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“Your mother’s such a pushover. She’ll agree to anything if it’s for Max.”
The walkie-talkie slipped from my trembling fingers and clattered onto the floor. I stared at the wall that separated our apartments—the very wall I’d helped pay for, brick by brick, sacrifice by sacrifice.
The same wall they were already planning to turn against me. My own son. The boy I had carried through every storm.
Fed. Clothed. Fought for.
Loved with everything in me. How could he? The static cut out, leaving behind a suffocating silence that felt louder than their voices.
