Daniel came home a few days ago, still limping, bruised, stitched up, wrapped in bandages, and still barely speaking. He moved around as if he were waiting for someone to take him back to the hospital and finish the job.
My husband still blamed himself for taking that road, for not seeing the truck soon enough, and for being the one who made it out alive.
Honestly, the house no longer felt like home. It's a shell of what it used to be and is almost always silent.
Honestly, the house no longer
felt like home.
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