Chapter 34 Chapter Thirty Four

• The street was quiet—too quiet. Cynthia stood outside her childhood home, her eyes scanning the compound. Her heart pulled in different directions. A small part of her felt calm—being in a familiar place did that. But mostly, she felt uneasy. The memories tied to these walls weren't happy ones.
• The house looked the same. Cream walls are smooth and clean. A low black gate framed the manicured lawn. Lantern-style lights glowed softly on the porch. The front door still creaked when she pushed it open.
• It was quiet inside, but not empty. A light was on upstairs—her mother's room. Cynthia paused, then started up the stairs, hand on the railing, taking in every corner of the house that never truly felt like home.