Love Isn’t Rent
“Who gave you permission to lay a hand on that girl?”
My father cleared his throat, his voice raspy and broken.
“Whitney.
This is your Aunt Renee.”
And that was the moment I felt something warm dampening the carpet beneath my knees, and realized with a sickening jolt that I was bleeding.
The next six hours I know by heart, because they’re charted in a hospital database.