Chapter 2

Bridget stepped out of the clinic doors, leaning heavily on Corda's arm. They climbed into a rusting, dented pickup truck. The engine sputtered and coughed the entire bumpy ride back to the house.

Bridget pushed open the groaning wooden front door. The air inside hit her instantly-a stale mix of rotting wood and cheap tobacco.

Her eyes scanned the living room. The corduroy sofa was worn bald in the center. The paint on the coffee table was chipped away to the bare wood. Every single object screamed poverty.

Corda guided Bridget to the sofa and helped her sit. Without a word, Corda turned and rushed into the cramped kitchen to heat up some soup.

Bridget leaned her head against the back of the sofa. She closed her eyes. Her brain acted like a radar, mapping out the sounds and layout of her new environment.

A very light sound came from the end of the hallway. It sounded like bare feet pressing against loose floorboards.

Bridget's eyes snapped open. Her gaze locked onto the corner of the hallway with the precision of a sniper.

A little girl, maybe five or six years old, peeked around the corner. She wore faded denim overalls. Her eyes were wide and terrified.

Bridget accessed her memory files. This was her older brother's daughter. Her niece, Mia.

Bridget instantly dropped the coldness from her eyes. She forced her facial muscles to relax into a warm, non-threatening smile. She raised her hand and gave a small wave.

Mia hesitated. She chewed on her bottom lip, then slowly shuffled her bare feet across the floorboards toward the sofa.

Bridget didn't reach out to grab her. She simply patted the empty cushion next to her, giving the child the choice.

Mia climbed up onto the sofa. She twisted her small fingers together. In a tiny whisper, she asked if Bridget really went to see God in the water.

Bridget let out a soft laugh. She kept her tone light and casual. "God thought I was too loud. He kicked me out."

The joke worked. Mia's tense shoulders dropped. A small dimple appeared on her left cheek as she smiled.

Bridget saw the opening. She shifted into a casual, conversational tone to extract information. She asked Mia who was the most angry while she was gone.

Mia, completely lacking any adult filter, spilled everything. She said her mom, Brenda, broke three plates in the kitchen and called Bridget a worthless waste of money.

Bridget's eyes darkened for a fraction of a second. She filed Brenda's name under 'immediate liabilities.' But her smile never wavered.

She rubbed her forehead, pretending to be confused. She asked Mia if she remembered what happened right before she went to the lake.

Mia's face scrunched up. She recalled seeing Bridget crying while holding a pink envelope. Then, Kurtis was standing on the dirt road, laughing at her really loud.

At the sound of Kurtis's name, Bridget's chest seized. A violent cramp of phantom heartbreak ripped through her ribs. Bridget ruthlessly crushed the emotion, forcing her breathing to remain steady.

She asked Mia what exactly Kurtis had said. Mia deepened her voice, mimicking a teenager. "A toad trying to eat swan meat."

The corner of Bridget's mouth twitched upward into a cold, mocking smirk. The puzzle was complete. She knew exactly what triggered the suicide.

The sound of boiling water hissed from the kitchen. Corda walked out, carrying a chipped porcelain bowl.

Mia jumped off the sofa like a startled rabbit and hid behind Bridget's legs.

Corda frowned when she saw the little girl. She opened her mouth, ready to yell at Mia for bothering her sick aunt.

Bridget reached down and wrapped her arm around Mia's small shoulders. She cut Corda off, her voice flat. "Mia is the best nurse I have."

Corda stopped. She let out a heavy sigh, the tension leaving her face. She set the hot soup down on the chipped coffee table.

Bridget picked up the bowl. The heat seeped into her freezing palms. She looked around the decaying room one more time.

She set her first hard deadline: Three months. Within three months, she was moving this family out of this slum.

She took a sip of the salty broth. Her eyes sharpened into blades. But first, she needed to take out the trash.