It was never an accident. It was never an argument that got out of hand. They had sat down together and planned it. My mother, my father, and my sister had discussed my face like a problem a brick could solve.

A nurse came in holding a phone. “Miss Davis, there’s a call for you from the detention center. But it isn’t from your parents.”

I took it with a shaking hand. “Hello?”

Heavy breathing. Crying.

“Sadie, you don’t know me. I’m Janice Foster. Your father’s younger sister.”

I froze in the bed. “I didn’t know I had an aunt.”