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

and blood.

Miles away, in the sun-drenched, chaotic warmth of my home’s kitchen, a vastly different kind of reality was painstakingly taking shape.

Leo, now officially legally placed in my care as an emergency foster-to-adopt placement, was currently covered head-to-toe in a fine dusting of white all-purpose flour. He was standing precariously on a sturdy continue reading …