He wanted a scene.
I gave him a door, sliding shut, and the bright day on the other side of it.
Chapter 18 — My Life, Beginning
A black car was waiting at the curb.
The driver took my bags, and I sank into the cool leather seat, and I looked at my phone.
Forty-two missed calls.
A dozen frantic texts from Brynn.
Three long voicemails from my mother, the previews of which all circled the same phrase — family always forgives. I did not listen to them.
Instead I opened my contacts, and I found my father’s number, and I pressed Block.
Then my mother’s.