I nodded frantically, tears filling my eyes. As he boosted me up against the wall, my skull smacked against the jagged brick. I winced at the stabbing pain of him entering me. But the emptiness filling me felt worse. Falling into a black abyss, I prayed for death.

Chapter 16

Robin

TUESDAY NIGHT

Sticky with sweat, I bolted upright at the sound of my bedroom door squeaking open. When was Grant going to get around to oiling that? I’d only mentioned it a thousand times already.

The nightmare was still vivid in my head, though ripped around the edges. Early evening moonlight streamed through the blinds, casting jail bars on the wall. The glow hung on a silhouette by the door.

The bed was a disheveled mess, Collette snuggled in a nest of rumpled sheets hanging off the mattress and pillows strewn everywhere. I had only gotten halfway through straightening it this morning and never got back to it before falling asleep with the baby at my breast. How ironic that it seemed so important to make the bed every morning when the rest of my life was in shambles.

“Mom, are you okay?”

It was Ryan. Even in the darkness I sensed his apprehension. I caught it in the way his voice tilted. I knew my son so well. And yet maybe I didn’t know him at all.

“Yeah, sweetie, I’m okay,” I whispered, code for baby sleeping so don’t wake her.

“I heard you crying.”

“Oh. I fell asleep while nursing and had a bad dream.” I hadn’t realized anyone heard me crying. I wondered how many times my family had heard me suffer through that same nightmare over the years.

I admit, I was surprised. I hadn’t expected Ryan to come to me. We rarely interacted these days. By the time he turned fourteen he became a stranger in our house, always off at a friend’s, or at baseball practice, or out celebrating a game-winning play, or holing up in the game room with his latest video game.

I smiled grimly at the recollection of Ryan at age four, a little boy who would cling to my leg as if it was his life support. He was my little shadow. And when Willow came along, oh boy, watch out! The fits of covetous rage as he temper-tantrumed on the floor, legs flailing, fists pumping because I couldn’t hold him while I nursed his sister. Back then I had thought it was so sweet, his jealousy over me, but now I wondered . . . I wondered if it was a sign of something darker. A demon that lived in him, growing stronger over the years until it finally took full form in our basement two days ago.

I tossed a pillow aside and patted the empty space next to me on the bed. “Come sit, honey.”