I woke to the lingering phantom of a burn. My bottom throbbed with a dull, rhythmic heat, a reminder of the ginger and the paddle and the way Daddy had dismantled me piece by piece. The crib was quiet, the pink sheets tangled around my legs. For a moment, I just breathed, listening to the house settle. The air smelled of lavender powder and the faint, sweet scent of dried milk.
Then I heard the study door click open.













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