The winter air was cold, crisp, and clean against my face.

Below me, the lights of Columbus stretched out in bright, steady rows toward the dark curve of the river.

Cars moved smoothly along the avenue, their red taillights fading into the quiet evening.

When David had asked me in Mark’s office if I wanted to file criminal assault charges for the bruise on my cheek, I had looked at my son’s pale, broken face and said no.

I took back every dollar that belonged to me, and I put a legal boundary between our lives that he can never cross again.