“I’ll take your daughter away!” he shouted as he grabbed my hand when I tried to walk past. His fingers dug painfully into my skin—surely bruises will remain. But worse than the physical pain were his words—they hit below the belt, knocking the air out of my lungs. A moment of icy, paralyzing panic gave way to a fury I’d never known in myself.
“And what will you do with her?” I sneered, pulling my hand free. “You—who doesn’t even remember which group she’s in at the kindergarten? Who doesn’t know what medicines are allowed and what aren’t? Who has never once been to a parents’ meeting?”
I grabbed my suitcase, feeling every muscle tense from the weight—physical and emotional.
“Just try,” I hissed, burning him with a furious look. “Just try to take my daughter from me, and I’ll destroy you. I swear you’ll regret being born.”