Chapter 1 — She’s Just Being Punished

“If she passed out, she can learn not to defy me again.”

Those were the first words my ex-husband said to me when I found our fifteen-year-old daughter lying motionless on the pavement outside his front door, soaked through by the cold rain.

It was ten past seven in the evening.

I had driven straight back from an out-of-town work training, and I wanted nothing in the world except to collect Maya, take her home, and make the two of us some dinner.

I had texted Richard that afternoon: I’ll be there to pick her up between 7:00 and 7:15. He had answered, as he always did, with a single letter. K.

For four years, ever since the divorce, I had done everything within my power to avoid conflict with him.

It had been my one governing priority — that Maya should grow up feeling she still had two parents who supported her, that she should never be caught in the crossfire between us, that whatever else I failed at, I would not fail at keeping the peace.

When I pulled into his driveway, it was dark, and the porch light was on, and then I saw her.

My daughter, curled on her side on the wet concrete.

Her backpack lay a few feet away.

One of her sneakers was missing.

I do not remember getting out of the car.

I only remember that I was suddenly on my knees beside her, in the rain, saying her name, and that she did not answer me.

Chapter 2 — Don’t Be Dramatic

Richard stepped out onto the porch.

Behind him stood his wife, Patricia, her arms folded across her chest.

“What happened?” I cried, my hands going to my daughter’s face, her cold cheek.