Another week passed, and Cammy's world continued to darken. The day Dylan left the country, without even a goodbye, something in her broke.
Her mind kept replaying that moment—the screaming, the flashing lights, the terrified look on her son's face as Duncan dragged him away.
Since then, she had refused to eat. Her already fragile body was withering, her cheeks hollowing, eyes dull.
When Grace returned to the detention center for another visit, she barely recognized her client.
Cammy was pale, her skin clinging tightly to bone. Her prison uniform hung on her like it belonged to someone else.
The petition Grace had filed in hopes of securing a temporary release had just been rejected that morning.
"I'll file another one," Grace had promised gently, trying to mask her concern. "This isn't over."
Cammy just stared past her, empty. "He didn't even let me say goodbye," she whispered, almost to herself. "He didn't let me say goodbye…"
