Act I: The Architecture of a New Beginning
My name is Caroline “Carrie” Mitchell. I am thirty-two years old, and for as long as I can remember, my life has been defined by the desperate, clawing need to keep the people I love safe from the wreckage of the past.
We live in Portland, Oregon, in a craftsman-style home with peeling sage paint and warped window sills that let in the endless, weeping Pacific Northwest drizzle. It is a house of shadows and creaking floorboards, a place where the light always feels filtered through a thick layer of grey gauze.
Three years ago, my world was a very different place. My first marriage had dissolved into a bitter, acrimonious mess of empty rooms, shattered porcelain,
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