I swore I would never return to Brookside, swore my son wouldn’t grow up with the constant threat of violence hanging over his head, as I had. I swore left and right that I would protect him from that world and clawed my way up and out of it, swearing, swearing I would never come back.But when my mother called me in the middle of the night, her voice tremulous with fear and rage, how could I refuse her?“Mama, what happened?” I asked, propping myself up on my elbow, still hazy with sleep.“Your father was attacked,” she said, and I could hear her struggling to keep the tears at bay.“What?” I snapped to, immediately awake, and switched on the bedside lamp. “Where is he now?”“He’s in surgery,” she said, and took in three deep breaths before continuing. “I can’t get ahold of your brother, and I’m all alone here, and I can’t—” There was a crack in her voice, and I was already out of the bed and fishing my ratty old suitcase out of the closet.“Mama, I’m on my way, ok? I’m coming now. I
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