Lydia was denied bail. The emails I’d meticulously sent to Helena, combined with the state of the house, painted a picture no defense attorney could erase.

She was sentenced to a psychiatric facility and a subsequent prison term.

Marcus, true to his nature, tried to fight for custody to avoid paying child support. But when my teachers testified that I’d been falling asleep in class for three years, and the grocery clerks testified they only ever saw me buying diapers at midnight, the judge saw straight through him.

His rights were severely restricted.

The state formally placed me in the custody of Aunt Helena.

The first night in her house, the silence was deafening. I lay in a bed with clean, lavender-scented sheets, staring at the ceiling, waiting for a phantom cry that never came.