“What do you mean you took her out of the vehicle, Mom?” I asked, my voice trembling.
On the other end of the line, my mother, Theresa, sighed heavily as if I were being completely unreasonable.
“Oh, Catherine, please do not start with the dramatics. Little Abigail felt dizzy, threw up a bit, and your nephews were absolutely terrified of the mess. We were running late for our flight, so we left her in a safe spot near a small roadside market. I have already sent you the exact location.”
— Theresa
My father, Robert, was shouting in the background. “Tell her not to make a fuss. The girl is perfectly fine and we had no other choice.”
“Did you really leave my eight-year-old daughter standing all by herself on a dangerous highway?” I asked.
“She was not entirely alone. There were plenty of people nearby if she needed anything.”
— Theresa
That was a complete lie. They sent me a digital location pin and hung up before I could process the horror of what they had done. I grabbed my purse, snatched my car keys, and ran out of the office building without saying a single word to my colleagues.
