My dad saw me limping down the street with my baby and groceries and asked, “Where’s your car?” When I whispered, “His mom took it… said I’m lucky they let me stay,” Dad didn’t argue. He opened the door and said, “Get in. We’re fixing this tonight

scoffed. “Oh please. If she wanted a car, she could buy one. She’s the one who chose to stay.”

Dad looked at her. “She stayed because she was told she’d have support.”

Patricia’s eyes hardened. “Support doesn’t mean letting her do whatever she wants. This house has standards.”

“And do your standards include threatening CPS because of dishes?” Dad asked,continue reading …