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?”

hurdle.”

I didn’t bother packing the clothes I arrived with. I walked to the coat closet, retrieved my heavy winter parka, and walked out the front door. The biting Boston wind hit my face, but for the first time in months, I didn’t feel cold. I walked down the icy driveway, leaving the architecture of my nightmare behind in the snow.

Chapter Four: The continue reading …