Chapter 19 Everywhere You Go, Trouble Follows

• By Friday evening, the house was quiet again. The kind of quiet that pressed against your skin, heavy and restless.
• Martha had fallen asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. I stood beside her bed, brushing a few stray curls from her forehead. Her breathing was soft and even, the rise and fall of her chest calm—untouched by the tension that had lived in the house all week.
• I lingered there longer than I needed to, just watching her. She was the only piece of peace I had left.