When Home Becomes A Nightmare

hen downstairs. It sounded like someone was deliberately slamming every pot and pan they coul

nkins was at the stove, aggressively stirring a pot of oa

my voice down for Lily' s sake, whom I now held in my arms. "

ned, a defiant

per household is awake at this hour. I am making breakfast for

our job is to care for the baby, which includes not waking her up with your noise.

I' m making breakfast, you can start th

r audacity. She was trying to give

f this house. You are the hired help, and you are on very thin ice. You will do your job, which is to care for Lily, and noth

al, the clattering finally stopping. I went back upstairs, my he

as silent and sullen. But later that afternoon, I walked into t

other hand, she held a pair of sharp nail scissors. She was trying

she was muttering. "I' m just tr

rror and rage. I lunged forward and tore my daughter from he

y from her, shielding Lily with my body. "What were y

expression not one of guilt,

y village, we snip a lock of hair and bury it to ward off the evil eye. And shaking her helps the spiri

a cultural misunderstanding. This was dangerous, violent, and deranged. My daughter could have been