The next day Leslie snuck out of the house to go to a softball game.

She never came home.

The tears came in a burning torrent, as they always did. Lauren buried her face in her hands and tried not to make any noise.

It was one forty-five in the morning. Leah was asleep in her room down the hall.

The pain never lessened. Never. Every time the wound opened anew, it was just as hot and raw as when it had first happened.

People always tried to tell her that the pain would lessen over time, that time healed all wounds. People who said those things had never been in pain, not this pain. This pain was like an alien living in her chest. Only, when it burst out of her, she didn’t die from it. She only wished she could.

She cried and cried and cried. She tried to choke the sobs back down her throat, swallowing and gasping like she was drowning. She didn’t want Leah to hear her. She was supposed to be the rock her younger daughter could rely on. What kind of mother could she be like this?

Despondent, she grabbed a handful of Kleenex and blew her nose. She grabbed the glass off the desk and drank the vodka like it was water.

The thing with alcohol was that the effects were not immediate enough.

She drank the whole glass of vodka and still felt the guilt, the despair, the fear for Leslie, the fear for Leah, and the fear for herself. She still felt like some giant hand had broken through her ribs and torn out her heart.

All she could do was wait for the numbness to come.

Chapter 8

8

“You’re not supposed to go anywhere, Leslie,” Leah said. “Daddy grounded you. I heard him. The neighbors probably heard him. Everybody in town probably knows it by now.”

Leslie gave her a nasty look from the corner of her eye as she stood primping in front of the bathroom mirror.

“Daddy’s not here,” she said. “And Mom’s not here either. They won’t know.”

“I’m here,” Leah said. “I’ll know.”

Leslie rolled her eyes. “Why do you have to be such a little Goody Two-shoes? I’m just going to a softball game. What’s the big deal?”

“You’re grounded,” Leah said, not understanding why Leslie didn’t think that was a big deal.

Leah had never been grounded in her life—nor did she ever plan on being grounded. Getting grounded meant you broke the rules, and if you broke the rules, Mom and Daddy would be disappointed in you. Leah couldn’t stand the idea of disappointing her parents.

Leslie heaved a sigh. “You’re such a child, Leah. It’s not the end of the world if you break a stupid rule. So what if Daddy’s pissed off? He’ll get over it.”