My eyeballs stung with unshed tears, but I didn’t let them loose. I was going to be brave, just like Row had been. Brave when my dad beat him whenever he was drunk, which was every day. Brave when, after nights of taking abuse from Dad, he smiled at me across the breakfast table in the mornings, passed me the cereal box, gave me lunch money, and pretended he wasn’t dead inside. Row didn’t know I was aware of the abuse Dad inflicted on him and Mama. I didn’t know why I was lucky enough to escape his wrath. But it didn’t matter. It was my turn to watch over our parents, make sure Dad didn’t kill
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