Their Sister, Not Their Mother
I felt the cold steel brush my left wrist. My vision tunneled. I was going to lose everything. The state would lock me up, pump me full of sedatives, and hand my brothers and sisters back to a monster.
And then a memory pierced the panic.
The flash of a camera in a dark bedroom.
“Wait,” I choked out, pulling my hands back an inch. “Wait. Check the emails.”
The officers paused. “Savannah, do not resist,” Davis warned.
“I’m not resisting!” I shouted, adrenaline finally overriding terror. I looked frantically at my aunt. “Aunt Helena — your iPad. Get your iPad right now.”