Chapter 1
I walked into the dining room with Rosie pressed against my chest.
She was four years old, and her small body felt heavier than it should.
Her face was buried in my sweatshirt, but I could still see it.
A purple bruise bloomed on her cheek.
Red finger marks wrapped around both of her arms.
The laughter around the table died instantly.
Every relative turned to look.
I didn't care about any of them.
My eyes locked on Bethany.
My sister.
She was sitting at the head of the table, legs crossed, swirling wine in her glass.
She looked bored.
"Who did this to my daughter?"
My voice was low.
Dangerous.
Bethany smiled.
A dismissive, cruel smile.
She raised her wineglass toward me.
"It was just a joke," she said. "She needed toughening up."
Something inside me snapped.
I shifted Rosie securely onto one hip.
I stepped forward.
I struck Bethany once across the cheek.
Hard.
"You touched my child."
Her wineglass slipped from her fingers.
It crashed onto the carpet, red wine spreading like blood.
Every relative recoiled.
Gasps filled the room.
I didn't stay to watch.
I turned away immediately.
I checked Rosie's face, her arms, searching for more injuries I might have missed.
She whimpered and clung tighter.
I carried her toward the open front door.
My mother rushed after us.
"Come back here, you bastard!" she screamed.
I reached the threshold.
I glanced back one final time.
Rosie held tightly to my sweatshirt, her small fists knotted in the fabric.
"She is my family," I said. "You are not."
My father stood from the table.
He seized a clear glass from beside his plate.
He hurled it toward the doorway with all his strength.
I turned my back.
I covered Rosie's head with my arm.
May you like
The glass shattered behind us.
I kept walking.
