Every day, Bridgette would look out the window, waiting for her dad to come home. But he never did. She refused to accept that he was gone. For years, she waited by the window.

Chipped, white paint framed two open windows, which wore lace curtains that blew with the wind. Copper eaves seemed to hold up an attic, the feel of it making Bonnie feel uncomfortable, but what bugged her the most was the wide open door, which seemed to entice her to enter.