The front door clicked shut, leaving the quartet in a silence so thick it felt like they were underwater. Marcus was the first to move, methodically draining the sink, his movements sharp and precise. Kai slumped into a kitchen chair, exhaling a breath he seemed to have been holding since the mashed potatoes turned cerulean.
"Monthly check-ins," Callum rumbled, his voice vibrating through the floorboards. "She's efficient. I despise people who use efficiency as a weapon."
"I don't think it was a weapon," Samantha said, though her heart was still hammering against her ribs. "It was a map. She gave us a map to keep the kids."
"She gave us a list of our failures, Samantha," Marcus corrected, though his tone wasn't bitter, just clinical. "Unresolved trauma, flickering anxiety, identity formation. We've been so focused on keeping them here that we haven't been helping them be here."
