To steal my unborn baby, my mother-in-law cornered me with a forged notice of my husband’s death. “You have no one left to protect you,” she sneered, forcing custody papers into my hand. But as I backed away, the front door burst open, and a voice she never expected to hear shouted…

that ash turns into gunpowder.

The fog began to lift when I realized the pattern. The sedative they were giving me in my water always tasted faintly bitter. I began pouring the water into the potted ferns by the window, forcing myself to swallow my agonizing thirst, drinking only from the bathroom tap when Martha wasn’t looking.

As my mind cleared, continue reading …