Chapter 2

The drive to the emergency room was a blur of silence, broken only by Lily' s soft whimpers. Mark didn't come with us, he stayed behind to "console" his mother. I sat in the waiting room, holding Lily' s small hand, my mind replaying not just the horror by the pool, but a dozen other moments just like it.

Evelyn' s manipulations were a constant in our marriage, a slow-acting poison. I remembered the time she' d feigned a stroke because I' d bought a brand of coffee she didn't like, collapsing in the grocery aisle until a crowd gathered. I remembered her showing up at my office Christmas party in tears, claiming I' d forgotten her birthday, which was still three months away.

Her favorite weapon, her signature move, was kneeling. It wasn't an act of supplication, it was an act of aggression. She would do it in public, in front of friends or strangers, dropping to her knees and begging me to forgive some imaginary slight. It was a brilliant, wicked tactic that painted me as a cruel, unfeeling daughter-in-law and her as a long-suffering saint. People always rushed to her side, helping the 'poor old woman' up while glaring at me with contempt.

For years, I had tried to manage it, to smooth things over, to keep the peace for Mark' s sake, for Lily' s sake. Now I saw it for what it was: a calculated campaign of emotional abuse, and Mark was her willing accomplice.

I was the one who kept our family afloat. I worked as a senior accountant at a mid-sized firm, putting in sixty-hour weeks to make sure the mortgage was paid, the lights stayed on, and there was food on the table. Our comfortable suburban life was built entirely on my salary.

Mark hadn't held a steady job in five years, ever since he decided he was going to be a screenwriter. His "work" consisted of him sitting on the couch with his laptop, surrounded by empty bags of chips, while he played video games and occasionally typed a sentence or two. His dream was my financial burden. I paid for his laptop, his "research materials" which were mostly movie subscriptions, and his frequent boys' nights out.

On top of all that, I paid Evelyn a thousand dollars a month, a "caretaker fee" to watch Lily while I was at work. I did it because Mark insisted his mother was lonely and needed a purpose, and because a full-time daycare was slightly more expensive. I had sacrificed my time, my energy, and my money to maintain this fragile illusion of a happy family.

A doctor finally came out and told me Lily was going to be fine. They were keeping her for observation, but the initial check-up showed no lasting damage, just a profound scare. The relief was so overwhelming it made me dizzy.

Just as I was about to go in to see her, Mark finally showed up at the hospital. He didn't ask about Lily.

"Mom is still very shaken up," he said, his tone accusatory. "The doctor had to give her a sedative. I think you should give me some money to buy her those expensive ginseng supplements she likes, for her emotional distress."

For the first time, a clear, unequivocal "no" formed in my mind and came out of my mouth.

"No."

He looked stunned, as if I' d just spoken in a foreign language.

"What did you say?"

"I said no, Mark. I am not giving you money for your mother' s fake ailments."

His face darkened. He grabbed my arm, his grip surprisingly strong, and dragged me into an empty corridor.

"Who do you think you are?" he hissed, shoving me hard against the wall. The impact knocked the wind out of me. "You think because you make the money you can just disrespect my mother?"

The commotion was loud enough to travel. From the room down the hall, I heard Lily let out a frightened cry. She had heard her father' s angry voice. That sound, the sound of my daughter' s fear caused by her own father, was the final blow.

A surge of protective fury I didn't know I possessed rose up in me. I pushed him back with all my strength, catching him off balance.

"Don' t you dare," I said, my voice low and shaking with rage. "Don' t you ever dare hurt her or me again."

I turned my back on him, walked into Lily' s room, and gently scooped her into my arms. She clung to me, her little body trembling. I didn' t look back at Mark. I just walked, out of the room, down the hallway, and past the nurses' station.

I pushed open the heavy hospital doors and walked out into the night air, carrying my daughter away from the man who was supposed to protect us.

"Sarah!" he screamed from the hospital entrance behind me. "You walk out that door and you' ll be sorry! You' ll come crawling back to me, you hear me? You' ll be nothing without me!"

I didn' t stop. I just held Lily tighter and kept walking, each step taking me further away from the ruin of my marriage. He was wrong. I wouldn' t be crawling back. I was crawling out.