Chapter 85

• My fists began to beat him in no rhythm or rhyme, cascading onto his jaw, his neck, his forehead, his cheeks, and his temples like a waterfall of fury. The walls, floor, my face were slick with blood and yet, I was not able to cease. Bones cracking and blood splashing comprised the din in my ears. I was past being able to hear the voices begging me to desist. Wails of gravity. Sirens and police and wails of fear. My sole focus was him. Tucker. The crap father who'd shoved me towards an awareness of my own truth.
• That you could be a violent parent and never be present at all in your child's life.
• That, in fact, your absence was the greatest cruelty.