Janet ground her teeth and dug her long nails into her palms, vowing to take revenge on Isabel for everything she'd done. "I swear to god she'll regret it," Janet muttered. "She'll pay for everything she's doing to us."
"What are you muttering about?" Melanie snapped. "Come help me with your dad."
Janet turned and looked at her dad. He was sitting in a foldable, hospital wheelchair. His face and clothing were wrinkled and rumpled, and his shirt hung strangely on his frame—in just three days, he'd lost a lot of weight. She took him by one arm, and her mom took him by the other. Together they helped him stand and walk to the car.
"Well, hurry up," Melanie snapped. "Get in the car, Janet."
She sighed and got into the backseat. Perched on the edge of the leather seats, she leaned for
