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
My hands were shaking, but my feet moved. I edged around Patricia and into the hallway. She tried to block me again, but Dad stepped forward—not touching her, just occupying space, making it clear that if she escalated, witnesses existed.
Upstairs, our room—Derek and mine, if you could call it ours—looked like a corner someone forgot to finish.continue reading …
