Your Children Are Not Luggage
I had to put one hand on the edge of the hospital chair.
The officer paused the recording. “Do you need a moment?”
“No.” My voice sounded older than it had an hour earlier. “Play it.”
The recording continued. Mason’s voice, small and angry, came from farther away.
“I’m telling Grandpa.”
Then movement. A chair scraping. Marissa saying, “Brian, don’t.” Brian saying, “Give me the tablet.” Mason shouting, “No!”