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

mask of terror and righteous rage. He pointed a trembling, accusatory finger directly at my chest. Flanking him was a frantic, loudly weeping Tiffany, and towering behind them both was a heavy-set, thoroughly grim-looking uniformed police officer.

“Arrest that bitch! She kidnapped my son!” Brad roared, his baritone voice booming with absolute, unquestionable continue reading …