Chapter 6 Caught Between

• The day had gotten darker—clouds hanging low like a warning, and the wind tapping gently against the windowpanes. I lit the kitchen light and glanced down at the steaming dishes on the table. Baked mac and cheese, fried chicken, buttery corn on the cob. Comfort food. The kind Martha loved. The kind I made when I needed the illusion of control.
• I plated everything with silent efficiency, my hands moving faster than my thoughts, trying to outrun the unease still lodged in my chest. The sound of soft giggles and footsteps echoed from upstairs.
• I wiped my hands on a towel, stepped into the hallway, and called up the stairs.