Ryan was released that afternoon.
He showed up on Beverley's door with a social worker. Beverley ushered him in and as she did, Sharpay threw her chair back from the dinner table and ran into his arms, with Mickey and Winona watching with bemused interest.
Ryan groaned as she hugged him, putting pressure on every wound and bruise. Beverley carefully pulled her away, "Let's be gentle for a while."
Sharpay lay curled up on the bottom bunk of the bunkbed in her and Winona's room. Outside wind rustled branches against the window. In her mind, all she could hear were Ryan's whimpers and that horrid monster's footsteps.
She waited a while, before crawling out of bed and down the hall to where Ryan and Mickey slept. She passed Mickey's toddler bed on tiptoe before slowly sinking herself down onto Ryan's bed. He was awake, and without word he scooted over to make room for her.
"You can hear him?" he whispered, low, with his eyes on Mickey.
"Yes."
There was silence for a while, and Sharpay was almost asleep when he whispered drowsily, "I miss Mom. Do you?"
"Sometimes, but only sometimes," she replied and let her fingers intertwine with his like they had done at the funeral, like the time that he barely remembered, where he thought it would never happen again. Ryan reflected on their pale fingers, noting the basketweave pattern, and thinking on the fact that this was the most tender moment he'd had with his sister in a long time. He thought of all that had happened, and what they had still managed to salvage.
He was tired, so he closed his eyes and slept.