Mom never sleeps until we do. She sits in the hallway every night, silent and still, watching over us with tired, unblinking eyes. No matter how late it gets, she won’t close her eyes until we’re asleep—but it’s not to keep us in bed. It’s to keep something else out. Sometimes, in the dead of night, I catch her whispering under her breath, her gaze locked on the shadows at the end of the hall. I used to think it was just a habit… but now I know better.