When my shaking ten-year-old begged me to hurry home, I had no idea a nightmare was waiting. I raced inside to find my husband and child cold and motionless on the living room rug. Paramedics rushed in, but the lead officer grabbed my arm, shaking his head. “Ma’am, this wasn’t an accident…”

on the precipice of the abyss. Every tendon in my body felt forged from pig iron, and my retinas burned, permanently scarred by the sterile, unforgiving glare of the emergency room halogens.

Idling at a red light at the intersection of 4th and Main, I drummed my fingers against the leather grain of the steering wheel. I was operating on pure, unadulterated continue reading …