Chapter 5
A text from Vanessa’s husband, Robert.
If your wife is unstable and violent enough to destroy your mother’s home, maybe Child Protective Services needs to evaluate where Lily sleeps. Don’t make us make that call, Daniel.
The motel room smelled of industrial bleach and stale cinnamon. I sat on the edge of the sunken mattress, watching the neon vacancy sign blink through the thin curtains.
Emily was finally asleep, her arm wrapped around Lily, a butterfly bandage securing the cut on her temple.
May you like
My phone had been vibrating on the nightstand for three hours.
I’d expected apologies. What I got was a synchronized psychological execution. I opened Facebook. My Aunt Carol had already posted a lengthy, vague status about “the tragedy of unstable outsiders tearing loving families apart,” complete with a prayer-hands emoji.
