His Mother's Son, My Ruin

isoner in

structions. Community members would stop by in shifts, bringing food I didn't eat and offering prayers I didn't want.

reminder of my humiliation. But my mind was a fortress. The grief for Lily was a stone in my gut, a permanent weight

ir gardens, all under the benevolent gaze of the great Deborah Hayes. They were all complicit, every single one of t

or. She was a devout follower, one who always bought Deborah's most expensive "respiratory support"

faith that was starting to crack. "She said the negative energy there would make it wor

not an elixir. It's probably just herbs and hon

st saying that because you've lost your faith. Deborah's heal

. I watched them go, a wave of helplessness washing over me. I was trapped he

mall chest heaving. Deborah was performing another one of her rituals, waving a

I went to the door,

my voice soft, broken. "Please. I just want to help. I'll do

ybe it was the memory of the man I married, the man who ex

devotion. "Mom knows what's best, Sarah. You're not wel

s condition was obvious, undeniable. Her usual tricks weren't working. I saw her face, just for a second,

gestures more dramatic. She announced that a particularly stubborn spirit

ttle Leo. He was too weak to struggle. Clara watc

boy's chest, chanting loudly. "Leave

prison. "Stop it! You're going

red me. They were all lost in the drama of the ex

hitting the glass again and agai

ah! You're ma

listening to the faint sound of the chanting outside, and to the sound of my own heart breaking, not just for my daughter, but for the lit