Chapter 13

More of the shouts that woke him echoed through the basement. Without thinking, Ronnie pushed back the sleeping bag and stood, ignoring the twinges in his leg as he headed for the stairs. The shroud of his dreams fell away. His single-minded focus now was on finding out what was going on.

He opened the door to a storm of another making. Mom stood with her back to the sink, her knuckles bone-white where she gripped the edge of the counter. Her skin was pale, except for the red splotch mottling the left side of her trembling jaw. Scattered on the floor next to her were glass shards, the curve of a handle telling him it had once been a coffee cup. The splatters on her skirt were still wet.

“What’s going on?” Ronnie asked.