She glared at me. “You talk too much.” “Get fucking bent,” I spat back, panic and anger a familiar beast inside my chest. It was my go-to defense. To fight. To argue. There were days I could feel the tension building in the house, feel my father’s temper like an oncoming storm. All it took was one annoyed sigh in Lori’s direction for me to “accidentally” drop a plate, or slam my door, or talk back. Anything to draw his attention to me instead. The more I fought back, the less anger got sent Lori’s way.
