h over me apparently leaving a light on, my ma

me cookies when Mom wasn't looking. Grandpa Joe woul

– Mom' s version, of course, wher

gentle but firm, sitting at our kitchen table.

a teenager, Mother. They' re a

, his usual jovial tone gone. "She looks s

listening to every word, my heart pounding with

t. Then, she reached for her ph

?" she said, her voice suddenly cold, chillin

few times, then turned

een from where I sat,

h, a choked gasp escaping. Her kindly

ing, replaced by a look of utter horror and

he kitchen was t

eyes, when they met Mom' s, were filled wit

ered, her voice trembl

lowly, his gaze fixed on some dist

ice now sharp, urgent. "You need to take

, almost satisfied

Joe added, his voice a harsh ra

e care of the problem?"

mea

o terrible that even my kind, loving grandparents

efore shattered, leaving a c

g to help me. The

ts stiff. She didn't look at me as

them, and the silence they le

face. She looked at me, and for a second, I thought I saw a fl

er voice flat. "You br

and anything at all, except th