C177 I Can't Be Yours.

The house was eerily quiet. The walls that once echoed with laughter and whispered promises now felt like a mausoleum of all that had crumbled. The past weeks blurred into courtroom drama and hospital visits. Dontrell lay in a hospital bed, battered and broken. My father was also locked away for sins that had ensnared us all.

Now I stood in our room – his room