Leon only ever had one response: "My brother died young. His widow has no one. Can't you just be a little more understanding?"
We'd fight. We'd argue. It always ended the same way.
His scales had never tipped in my favor. Not once.
I dragged my hollowed-out body to the front door and heard Hayden throwing a tantrum inside.
"I don't want that awful woman at my parent-teacher conference! She'll embarrass me!"
The moment he saw me, Hayden kicked a soccer ball straight at me.
I couldn't dodge in time. The ball slammed into my arm, and I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth.
"Idiot! Can't even catch a ball!"
I looked down at my hands, hanging limp and useless at my sides. A bitter ache spread through my chest.
These hands had once been called the Golden Hands. Inside the psychiatric facility, every finger had been broken. I would never hold a scalpel again.
Something strange flickered across Leon's face as he watched my expression crumble.
"Hayden! That's rude!" he snapped, though the reprimand barely had any teeth.
Hayden pouted and tugged at Pamela's arm, whining. "But I want Mama Pamela to go! If that awful woman shows up, I'll die of embarrassment!"