Chapter 1: The Open Door
The day I came home from burying my daughter, I found her friends inside my house.
For one terrible second, I thought they had come to take one more thing from me.
I was wrong.
They had come to give me back the last piece of my child I had never understood while she was alive.
I hated myself most at night.
That was when the blame got loud. Not just for moving us to a new town or trusting a new school, but for every time I told myself Angelica was simply growing up and I needed to loosen my grip.
Angie was only sixteen.
The call came while I was reheating soup. At first, all I understood was a flat voice, an officer, and an address.
I left with the soup still simmering on the stove. Continue Reading ⬇️
