As my eyelids grew heavier, I heard the whispers from the backyard fill my head: familiar, close, the voices I’d sometimes hear down the hall from my bedroom in the Juniper. Conniving, strategizing, working together to implement a plan or to configure a new one. The guests were like birds, flying in the same direction, turning, landing, and spooking at the same time. They were one, working toward a common goal. Now they were outside, waiting, just like they had always done at the Juniper. I would never be free. Mama would never let me go.
