I didn’t want neighbors watching. I didn’t want to wake my mother. I didn’t want anyone to see me standing there, bleeding and shaking and unwanted, with a newborn in my arms.
So I did the only thing I could.
I ordered an Uber and went to my sister Marissa’s apartment.
That night, I didn’t sleep. I sat on her couch, watching my daughter’s tiny chest rise and fall, trying to understand how a man who had kissed my forehead in a delivery room could turn me away without opening a door.
By morning, the shock had faded—and something colder had taken its place.
I needed answers.
I just didn’t know yet how much they would cost.
Twenty hours after Ray locked me out, there was a loud pounding on Marissa’s door.
“Penelope!” he shouted. “Open up!”
Marissa was already on her feet. “Get out of here, Ray! You should be ashamed of yourself!”
