I Prayed for a Miracle—Now I Lock My Door at Night

I said.

Dave flinched.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know. And I hate myself for it. But I was drowning too.”

I wanted to scream at him.

Instead, I just nodded, because I understood drowning.

That night, Tyler stayed in his room, unusually quiet.

Around midnight, I heard a sound that didn’t fit the usual rhythms of my house.

Not pacing.

Not yelling.

Crying.

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