I’m clean. I’m sober. I’m taking my meds. I’m working the program. But good luck convincing the judge of that.

And this house … it was nothing at all like what I expected. Not where I would have wanted to leave my daughter… But in times of desperation, I couldn’t afford to be picky, could I? And, after all, it was my own fault she’d had to come here. I have to accept the blame for putting her in this position to begin with.

The driver popped the trunk and handed me the skinny yellow suitcase I’d had since I was a teenager. It contained extraordinarily little—five outfits, some panties and socks, a few toiletries, and my AA bible, also known as The Big Book.

“Thank you, sir.”

I’d paid the driver in advance online, but I knew I should offer a tip. I scrounged through my dress pockets for a five and two ones, guiltily handing over what little loose cash I had.

The driver, in a strange old-fashioned gesture, tipped his hat and took a bow before climbing back behind the wheel. Gravel dust tickled my nose and throat as he rumbled away, leaving me here alone in front of the crumbling house holding the few possessions I owned. The only thing I cared about was inside that house, my sweet daughter…

A tire swing moved back and forth, creaking in the wind. I waited for the screen door to pop open, my aunt and uncle, or (hopefully) Gemma, to emerge to greet me. But nobody came. The grumbling of tires disappeared in the distance, and suddenly, I felt very alone.

I looked left then right, taking in the vast open cornfields on either side of the house and the hulking shadow of trees beyond it… There wasn’t a neighbor around for miles, I realized.

The house looked even more dilapidated as I approached, the eyes of two ghastly stone creatures leering down at me from above. This was the first time I’d seen a gargoyle in real life. It reminded me of old vampire movies, and I shivered. The home was large and historic, Victorian according to Aunt Sara, but the gargoyles seemed over the top. I tried to recall what I knew about gargoyles… Aren’t they supposed to ward off evil or something? Maybe that’s not such a bad thing after all I’ve gone through this year, I considered.

Although I should have remembered the house from my childhood, nothing about this place felt familiar.

I’d been younger than Gemma when Mom and I had come to visit her sister Sara.