“I’m here to watch Katie. It’s not for you to like or not like. It’s my job.” Not bothering to look at me as she speaks, she takes a new item of clothing from the laundry basket. I snatch it from her hands. Red lace and spaghetti straps—there isn’t much to it. “Watch Katie?” I hold the garment by the straps for inspection. “Maybe you’re being more than the stand-in mom. Maybe you’re also the stand-in screw.” She swings, her open palm coming toward my face, and I don’t bother to duck. I let it land and relish the sting of her fingers connecting with my skin. I’ve been numb for months, but it’s
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