On the tenth floor, there was no answer from Tonya’s apartment either. So, I took the steps up five more flights to the fifteenth floor, hoping Stacia would talk to me, that I could make things right. I felt sorry for her and couldn’t imagine life with a mama in jail. As I approached her door, I noticed that it was off the hinges and lying flat on the ground, caution tape snaking around it like a guard, warning me to stay away.

At the door, I said, “Hello?” and my voice bounced all around, because I was in a vacant apartment. I looked at all the holes in the wall and the broken glass: the cocktail table reduced to thick shards on the floor, most of it covered in blood. Their bar counter was gone, and the couch had a different hue of red, like the little Buchanans had been playing in paint.

I thought about Sweat and prayed that he wasn’t a part of the bloody scene. I didn’t see him with the other Buchanans. Stacia was an option too. I knew that the blood belonged to one of the two. I walked out of there fast, thinking naive thoughts about how the Buchanans would come home later, and they’d clean up 1502, buy a new TV, microwave, and stereo. The blood wasn’t even dry, and already, hypes had taken their electronics. I walked home in shock, thinking trivial thoughts about replacing household items so that 1502 would look normal again. What I couldn’t fathom at the time was that after the events of that day, none of us would ever be normal again.

Only a few days after the raid, I watched a semitruck pull into the parking lot. The movers began carrying out big pieces, mummified in plastic. I’d witnessed this scene over and over that summer. But then, they pushed out a dolly carrying a white dresser that I recognized as a piece of furniture from Precious’s bedroom. It was odd to see it outdoors like that, out in the open and not in that small, private space where we’d whispered about boys and played Uno.

When Mr. Brown emerged from the building, his shoulders back, walking like a proud, confident man on a mission, a huge box in his arms, I could feel tingling in my fingertips, and I ran from the window toward the front door. I screamed, “Mama! Precious moving out!”