“She’s going back,” Lydia hissed, looking directly at Officer Davis. “Because if my daughter wants to stand here and tell lies about my parenting… I think you officers need to see what I found hidden under her mattress this morning.”

She pulled out a small spiral-bound notebook. Blue, its cover bent and fraying at the edges.

My heart stopped dead.

It was my journal. The one place in the world where I had written down the truth.

Lydia held it up by the wire binding, dangling it like a weapon. “You need to read this,” she told the officers, a triumphant smile stretching across her face.

“You need to see how sick and dangerous my daughter really is.”