Jillian came home from high school band practice to a shouting house. The decibels vibrating from her parents’ voices shrieked painfully in her ears. The double-wide mobile home wasn’t well insulated, so Jillian figured their neighbors in the trailer park could hear every word as well.

Jillian tip-toed to her bedroom and placed her flute on top of her twin bed. She heard her step-dad stomp to the den, slam the door, and lock it.

At 4:00 a.m., Jillian wobbled awake to the sounds of screaming and pounding. Her mother, out of her mind, had a pair of large kitchen shears in her fist, slamming it on the door of the den, yelling at her husband to come out.

Jillian’s 10-year old brother Jason had drowned in the master bath’s bathtub earlier that evening while her step-dad and mom argued yet again, not paying attention to Jason.
Jillian shouted at her step-dad to not leave the den because her mom had scissors in her hands. Jillian called 911 and reported a domestic dispute but didn’t mention her brother’s drowning.

Jillian hurriedly packed up her large backpack and left before the police arrived, never looking back. Her little brother, who gave her a reason to stay, was forever gone.

“Jason’s gone!” she sobbed as she walked out of the mobile home park, staying in the shadows as best she could.

“Where you think you’re going?” said a gruff, angry voice that made Jillian jump.

“Sam!” she said with relief. “Sam, I need your help. Mom and J.T. got into it again, and poor Jason couldn’t take any more. I was at band practice, and he…he….”

“He what, Jillian?”