The slamming door made him feel better for less than half a second, so Connor sank down to sit against it, arms curled around his knees. He doubted Angie would come in to try and soothe him – she had to take care of him now because he was her responsibility, but it wasn’t like she cared about him – but if she tried, he could probably hold the door shut, if he kept all his weight pressed against it.

He could hear her moving around in one of the other rooms, shifting stuff about. This stupid new house wasn’t even big enough to get away from her properly. Azkaban would probably be nicer than this.

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