The door never opened. Eventually, I left the porch and started walking toward the county road. My best friend Nadia lived almost seven miles away, but I had no phone and could not remember her family’s number. Within minutes, rain soaked through my sweatshirt and jeans. My shoes filled with water, and every passing vehicle made me hope Dad had changed his mind.

After two miles, I was shaking uncontrollably. The road stretched between empty fields and dark woods, with nowhere to find shelter. Then something frightening happened: I stopped shivering, and a strange sleepy warmth spread through my exhausted body. I knew something was wrong, but I could barely think. My legs finally gave way beside a drainage ditch. I tried standing, fell again, and attempted to call for help as a vehicle passed. No sound came out. I curled around my backpack, remembering the porch light and the sound of Dad locking the door. Then everything went dark.