My family locked me in the basement to give birth. Days later, they returned to find a dark red liquid seeping from the door. As my mother screamed, a voice whispered behind her, “Looking for me?”

chronicle of my destruction.

My parents stared at the glossy prints as if they were venomous snakes.

“So,” I began, my voice cutting through the silence like a scalpel. “Who wants to deliver the opening statement?”

Samantha pushed off the wall, her corporate aggression flaring up to mask her guilt. “Because you were an anchor, Rebecca. David and I have continue reading …