A shudder rips through me the second I open the front door. The house stinks. It’s stale, musty and unloved. Once upon a time, it used to be entirely different. But I’ve only seen evidence of that in photographs or heard my sisters talk about it. A time I don’t remember. A time I barely even experienced. A time that died right alongside the heart of this home. We might all meet here every two weeks and pretend to be a normal family, but we’re far from it.
