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

Fourth of July block party. It had been a vibrant, chaotic sea of red, white, and blue bunting, heavy with the rich scent of mesquite barbecue and the piercing, joyous shrieks of neighborhood children. I had observed from the safety of my shaded porch as Leo stood entirely paralyzed near the absolute edge of the Millers’ expansive driveway. He was continue reading …