Mark’s shitty truck is out front and I’m relieved and stressed at the same time. He’ll distract mom, that’s for sure. But he hears better than mom, too, he might hear me coming in. The door to the basement in back is unlocked, this might just work after all.

I climb the stairs, stopping when I get too dizzy, skipping number 4 and number 11, the big squeakers. At one point I start to lose my balance there in the dark and flail out, instinct taking over logic. The remains of my right hand bump the wall before I can think to collapse my arm and catch myself with my elbow instead, and the pain is a bass beat through my body, waves of blackness sweep over my vision and I kneel down and grasp both sides of the stair riser, swaying but somehow not falling down the stairs.

Voices filter through the basement door. Mom and Mark are in the dining room, I should be able to sneak through. I open the door silently and ease it shut, leaving my shoes at the top of the stairs I pad to the bathroom off of the living room.