My sister April had always been the person I called when everything went wrong.

"Nell! Run to the bathroom! Now!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

The line went dead with a sickening click.

"Nell! Nell!"

Nothing. Just the flat, emotionless tone of a disconnected call.

I threw the phone onto the seat and swung the steering wheel hard to the left, my car tires skidding across the wet leaves at the entrance of April’s subdivision. The street was quiet, lined with sleepy split-level houses and dark driveways.

I rounded the final bend and saw April’s house at the end of the cul-de-sac.

A massive black pickup truck was idling in the driveway, its exhaust pipe billowing white plumes of smoke into the frosty night air. The passenger door was open.

I didn't bother using the brakes properly; I slammed the sedan into the curb right behind the truck, cutting off its escape, the undercarriage scraping violently against the concrete. I threw the door open, left the engine running, and charged toward the front porch.

The front door was cracked open.

Before I could reach the steps, a woman stumbled out onto the porch, laughing loudly.

It was April.

She was wearing a tight leather jacket, tall black boots, and heavy makeup. Her hair was curled, and she held a half-eaten takeaway container in one hand. Leaning out of the driver's side of the pickup truck was a man with a thick beard and a baseball cap, grinning at her.

"Thanks for the ride, babe!" April slurred, blowing him a kiss. "Text me when you get—"

"APRIL!"

April froze. The laugh died in her throat. She spun around, her eyes widening in drunken shock as she saw me storming up the front walk in my hospital scrubs, my face twisted with fury.

"Jasmine?" April blinked, swaying slightly on her heels. "What... what are you doing here? Your shift doesn't end until—"

I didn't answer. I shoved past her with so much force that she stumbled sideways into the vinyl siding of the porch, dropping her food container onto the floorboards.

I threw the front door wide open and stepped inside.

The smell hit me first. It wasn't the smell of a warm, loving home. It was the stench of sour vomit, dirty diapers, and burnt dairy.

The living room was an absolute disaster zone. Toys, dirty clothes, and crusty plates covered the coffee table. But there were no children in sight. The house was deathly quiet except for the ragged, hollow sobs coming from down the hall.

"Nell!" I screamed, tearing down the corridor. "Nell!"

The door to the back bedroom was pushed open. Inside, huddled on the floor between a twin bed and the wall, was my daughter.

Nell was sitting on the carpet, clutching three-year-old Max tightly to her chest. Max was wrapped in a bath towel, his face blotchy, his little body shaking with feverish shivers. Sitting beside them on the floor was six-year-old Henry, holding an ice pack against his own forehead, his cheeks flushed bright crimson. Eight-year-old Abby was standing in the corner, clutching a broom like a weapon, tears streaming silently down her pale cheeks.

When Nell saw me, she didn't move. She couldn't. She looked like a survivor pulled from a collapsed building—pale, hollow-eyed, her t-shirt stained with vomit and gray dishwater.

"Mom?" she whispered.

I dropped to my knees on the dirty carpet, wrapping my arms around Nell, Max, and Henry all at once. The sheer heat radiating off Henry’s skin was terrifying; he was burning with a fever of at least 103 degrees.

"I'm here," I choked out, burying my face in Nell’s hair. "I’m here, baby. You're safe. You're okay."

"I tried to clean it, Mom," Nell sobbed, burying her face into my scrub top, her whole body convulsing with tears. "I gave Max the medicine, but the bottle was empty. I washed the sheets, but the dryer broke. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry."

"Stop," I cried, tears blinding me. "Don't you ever apologize for this. None of this was your job. None of it."

Behind me, the heavy thud of high heels echoed down the hallway.

April appeared in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe for balance. The smell of cheap tequila and stale cigarettes rolled off her in waves. Her initial shock had already morphed into defensive irritation.

"What the hell is going on here?" April demanded, crossing her arms. "Jasmine, why are you screaming like a lunatic? You’re scaring the kids!"

I slowly stood up.

I turned around to face my older sister. In that moment, thirty-two years of sisterhood, of shared childhood memories, of trusting her as my protector, completely vanished. Looking at her standing there in her night-out clothes while four children shivered in their own filth, I didn't see my sister.

I saw a monster.

"You left them," I said, my voice dropping to a low, lethal whisper. "You left a twelve-year-old alone with three children for five hours."

April scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Oh, please! Don't be so dramatic! I ran out to grab dinner with a friend. I was gone for a couple of hours!"

"It’s almost eleven o'clock!" I screamed, taking a menacing step toward her. "Nell told me you walked out at five-thirty! Max is vomiting! Henry has a dangerously high fever! And you locked the deadbolt from the outside!"

April’s eyes flickered with a brief flash of guilt, but her narcissistic pride snapped right back into place.

"Nell is twelve!" April snapped back, her voice shrill. "When I was twelve, I babysat the entire neighborhood! She’s plenty old enough to watch her cousins for an evening! You think I don't deserve a life? You think I don't deserve a break after dealing with four kids all week?!"

"She is not your babysitter!" I roared, the sound tearing from my throat. "She is a child! And I paid you! I paid you every single month to protect her!"

"You paid me peanuts!" April yelled, pointing a manicured finger directly in my face. "Three hundred and fifty dollars? That doesn't even cover the groceries your brat eats! She lives in my house, she eats my food, she earns her keep!"

Before April could finish her sentence, Abby—her own eight-year-old daughter—stepped out from behind me.

In Abby’s trembling little hands was a piece of yellow lined notebook paper.