She burst into tears, running off. Seconds later, Maureen, my daughter, stormed in. Her eyes were cold, the same eyes that used to search for me when she was afraid of the dark.
“Did you just make my daughter cry? What kind of grandma are you?”
Mike appeared again, rage rippling through his jaw. “You’re nothing but a disappointment. I regret marrying you every single day.” He grabbed my arm so hard I whimpered, dragging me through the hallway like a piece of trash.
Outside, he shoved me so hard I fell, my ankle twisting beneath me. The dog barked in the filthy kennel beside me. The stench of old poop and mud clung to my dress. Mike towered over me, spitting out the final blow.
They turned off the porch light and left me in the dark.
When I came to, I was on the cold marble floor inside. My hair was wet, plastered to my cheeks. My hands and knees were blue from the chill. I smelled of rain, mud, and humiliation.
“Get up, Mom. You’re wetting the floor,” Maureen snapped. She kicked a mop towards me, her eyes rolling. “We have to prepare everything for Aunt Sasha’s party.”
I blinked up at her, my own daughter, her face a blurred echo of my youth—except harder, colder.