But I already knew, the way you know a dog is about to bite before it moves, that whatever had happened in my kitchen that afternoon, my children had not been the victims of bad luck.

They had been the victims of a choice.

And a choice is a thing a person can be held to account for, in a way that misfortune never can.

That distinction was about to become the entire foundation of everything I did next.

Chapter 4 — On the Floor

I will not spend long on what I found when I threw open my own front door, shouting both my children’s names, because it is a thing no parent should have to see, and because dwelling on it serves no one.

I will tell you the fact of it and move on.