He poked his head in. She was sound asleep on her front, face squished on the mattress, hair stuck to her forehead. She’d thrown the comforter aside. She didn’t like the noise of the fan at night so when it was hot like this she’d sweat in her sleep.

He crossed to an antique chair in the corner. The chair gave the room a homeyness that made one think of family heirlooms and times gone by. Spencer cleared Abby’s stuff off it, moved it to her bedside, and sat down heavily. Abby stirred.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing, Abby. Don’t worry. Don’t wake up. Everything’s fine.”

“Bruce came home.”

“Who?”

“Sam’s cat.”

Spencer leaned in and moved the strands of hair from her face. “That’s good.”

Some people won’t be coming home tonight though, Spencer, will they?

“Yeah, Sam was crying. But after Bruce came home, he got really mad at me and said he never cried.”

“Well, sometimes people say things they don’t mean, Abby. Especially guys.”

Abby said something unintelligible. It sounded unimpressed. Her hand snaked out from under the pillow toward Spencer, got as far as the edge of the bed, and gave up. She breathed deeply, fast asleep again.

Spencer took her hand and held it gently as he looked at her. Kids were beautiful when they slept. Innocent and peaceful, serene even. He thought about the boys he’d seen die earlier. Had they looked like this when they slept? Had anyone ever noticed? He wondered if the Yo-Yo was right—that he was responsible for all the deaths that had taken place that night. One of them was scum, sure. But there were programs to bring kids back from the brink. Who was Spencer to write them off? And Milt. Spencer would’ve been long gone from that gas station if he hadn’t been drinking in his car. Then would Milt have just been inclined to hand over the money?

The thoughts were exhausting, without end. He closed his eyes to them and let his head fall back.

Chris found him asleep like that: sitting upright, covered in blood, and stinking of gasoline, holding Abby’s hand. He looked at peace and it was past four, so Chris left him be and went to try and get some sleep himself.

But Spencer’s sleep wasn’t peaceful. He dreamed the same dream all night. In it, he sat beside a burning car, holding the hand of a boy in the back. The flames flickered around Spencer, but they didn’t burn. The boy asked Spencer if it was hurting him too. Spencer shook his head. The boy asked him why he didn’t feel pain. Spencer didn’t have an answer. All he could say was that he was sorry. The boy started to scream.