“Stay there and think about what you’ve done,” my father said while Mom called it “a necessary lesson.” I was eight weeks pregnant, and instead of listening to me, they shut me away downstairs and left for a week-long trip to Hawaii.
“Stay in there until you understand what you’ve done.” My father’s voice came through the thick basement door, muffled by the soundproofing but unmistakable. Then I heard the lock turn from the outside. For several seconds, I just stood there. I was twenty-three years old, eight weeks pregnant, staring at the narrow line of light…
