The afternoon my stepmother dragged me out of my father's black SUV by my braids, I was eight years old, wearing a white school polo and carrying a bright-pink backpack. I remember the pain in my scalp, the rough edge of the open car door against my arm, and the terrible feeling of realizing that the woman who was supposed to take care of me had stopped pretending to be kind. She was wearing a beautiful, fitted red dress, pearl earrings, and a silver necklace. Her long platinum-blonde curls fell over her shoulders as she leaned into the vehicle and shouted that I had embarrassed her for the last time.
"Get out of this car, you ungrateful little girl!"
I tried to climb out on my own, but she grabbed a handful of my braids before my feet reached the ground. My pink backpack slid from my shoulder, and I cried out as she pulled me toward the driveway. Behind her, my thirteen-year-old brother stood near the open rear door, wearing a dark denim jacket over a red shirt. He looked frightened, but he was holding something behind his back that my stepmother hadn't noticed.
His phone.
And on that phone, a video call that would eventually destroy every lie she'd been telling our father.
"Please!" I cried. "You're hurting me!"
My stepmother bent closer until I could smell her expensive perfume. Her perfectly manicured fingers tightened around my braids, and she looked toward the house to make sure nobody was watching.
"You're not going to ruin my plans," she hissed.
I didn't understand.
I only knew that she'd been angry since breakfast, that she'd taken my favorite stuffed rabbit out of my backpack, and that she'd warned me not to mention the papers I'd seen on her desk the previous night.
I tried to pull away.
"Please let me go. I want Daddy."
She laughed.
"Your father isn't coming to save you."
I began sobbing.
She glanced toward my brother, who was standing motionless beside the SUV.
Then she leaned close enough that her words were almost a whisper.
"I signed your father's name myself. Tonight, you're being sent away, and by the time he understands what's happened, it'll be too late."
My stomach seemed to drop.
I stared at her.
"Sent where?"
She smiled.
"Somewhere little girls like you learn not to cause trouble."
I shook my head.
"No. Daddy wouldn't do that."
Her expression hardened.