“I know what I need to do. I just can’t do it.” She’s holding her breath. “Which is?” The cloud fills every corner of my chest, constricting my veins, shrinking my lungs. “Find her a live-in facility.” Away from my father. “But my youngest sisters are eight and ten. They’d go from breakfast in her bed to weekend visiting hours.” Her hand wraps around mine. “Your father?” My father. The monster bangs on its cage inside me, desperate to get out. “The only comment my father has made on the matter for months is that she’s bad publicity. He used to love her. Not so much now.”
