As my car refused to stop and slid across the rain-soaked driveway, I knew this wasn’t an accident.
For three years, my mother and younger sister had done everything they could to keep my daughter, Ava, and me trapped.
Money disappeared from my bank account.
Important mail never arrived.
My phone mysteriously broke the day before meetings with my attorney.
Anonymous complaints were filed with Child Protective Services.
Every time I got close to leaving, something happened.
People called it bad luck.
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