My mother had wrecked her own family over a spilled cup of syrup.

She’d arranged for her four-year-old granddaughter to get hurt, just to make a point about house rules.

I lost my mother for good in that parking lot.

The woman who raised me was gone.

The woman who sent huge flower arrangements and baked pies had never really existed.

She was only a person who demanded complete control and punished anyone who stepped out of line.

I reached across the console and took the paper.