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

the car. “Okay,” he said, and the calmness in his voice scared me more than yelling would’ve. “We’re going to do three things. One: get your car back or get you a car. Two: get your documents. Three: get you out.”

My pulse jumped. “Out?”

Dad looked at me like it was obvious. “Lauren, you can’t heal in a place that’s injuring you.”

I started shaking my continue reading …