“Please, arrest me. I’d rather go to jail than go back to that house…”

hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I knew, with absolute, terrifying clarity, that if I turned the deadbolt and opened that heavy wooden door to let the freezing rain inside, I would be crossing a threshold from which I could never, ever return.

Chapter 2: The Backpack’s Secret

The biting, icy breath of the Seattle downpour immediately whipped continue reading …