And then I hear a thud above us. My eyes shoot to the ceiling. “Is she up there?” I ask, and when no one answers, I can’t help myself—I can’t stay stationary—I run. I bolt out of the kitchen and back towards the staircase. “Paul!” they yell and chase after my breakneck speed. I’ve run away from that name most of my life, and I don’t turn back. I never turn back.
