From that point on, my relationship with Pops was nearly all hornets and garter snakes. It seemed to me that he was realizing that he was losing control of me. He’d text verses reminding me to “honor thy father and mother,” and every conversation we had just heaped more guilt on me, leaving fear gripping my throat even tighter. Often he would text me and apologize, but the messages were often followed up by more words condemning our actions or calling us out. His apologies felt insincere and invalid. Hardly a day would go by without some barbed message from him—either directly or from one of
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