We had nowhere to go. Mom called her sister, who lived across town, and we spent the first few nights on her couch. I remember pretending it was an adventure, like camping indoors, because I didn’t want Mom to see how terrified I was. She tried to smile for me, but I could hear her muffled sobs through the bathroom door when she thought I was asleep.

The weeks that followed were filled with h.u..m.iliation and struggle. Mom worked long hours at a diner, taking double shifts whenever possible. She saved every penny, determined to give us some stability. We rented a tiny apartment with peeling wallpaper and a leaky faucet, but it was ours. It smelled faintly of mildew, yet it became a place where we rebuilt a life from the ashes.