CHAPTER 19: SANDRA

I had checked my cell obsessively since Monday. It was Wednesday, and I hadn't heard a thing from Patrick. If he was telling the truth, a week from now I'll be looking into his pitiful eyes.

And that scared me.

I didn't want him here, and there was only so much longer I could pretend and not tell the girls exactly what was happening. I didn't want to keep it from them, but there wasn't much I could do. If he wasn't coming, then there was no need to tell them the gritty details of my life in New York. If he does come... Then it might be too late.

I hated not knowing. I hated the uncertainty that encompasses my brother in a thick cloud. Nothing with him was ever definite, except drugs. But then again, when was anything with anyone ever definite? It's not. Not ever.

I swallowed my sigh, tapping my pen against the table. I glanced at the clock for the thousandth time in ten minutes. The second hand was moving at a snail's pace, zero point zero miles per hour, it seemed.

For the first time