My dad slapped me on his birthday. “what kind of w…

touched my forehead. The scar Patricia had made me hide for eight years. I don’t remember, I whispered. You were nine, Ryan said gently. You were trying to do a wheelie. You fell. Cried the whole way to the ER. Not because it hurt, because you were mad you didn’t land the trick. A flash. Memory. Blue bike. A man’s voice. It’s okay, Rosie. You’re tough,continue reading …