So I documented everything. The scraped scalp. The uneven stubble. The bald patches. The pile of hair I gathered from Judith’s carpet with shaking hands because some instinct inside me understood evidence mattered.
Then I packed.
Not everything. Just clothes, Meadow’s stuffed elephant, her school drawings, the tiny lock of hair from her first haircut preserved in her baby book, and the ziplock bag filled with the hair Judith had cut away.
Dustin stood in the doorway while I zipped the suitcase.
“You’re seriously leaving?”
I looked directly at him. “Meadow is afraid in this house.”
“Because you’re making her afraid.”
“No. Because her grandmother hurt her, and her father defended it.”
His jaw tightened hard. “Mom was trying to help.”
“Then go live with your help.”
Meadow appeared at the top of the stairs wearing her pink hat and clutching Professor Plum, her purple stuffed elephant.
