I watched my father throw my clothes, my books, and the last photo of my mother into the fire like my life meant nothing. Then he looked at me and said, “This is what happens when you disobey me.”
But that moment didn’t begin with that phone call. It started in the quiet promise I made to myself while I stood there watching everything I owned turn to ash—that if I ever had power again, I would never use it the way he did.
Nate drove me to Columbus that night with forty-three dollars and a backpack.
For a while, survival was the only plan continue reading …
