Chapter 2 - The Porch of Cruelty
The tires of my sedan skidded across the slick asphalt as I swerved into the tree-lined driveway of my mother’s four-bedroom suburban estate.
The house stood illuminated like a holiday postcard, warm amber light spilling through the bay windows onto the manicured lawn.
Smoke drifted pleasantly from the brick chimney, carrying the rich, savory aroma of roasted pot roast and seasoned vegetables.
Inside that heated sanctuary, my family was enjoying a comfortable dinner while my eight-year-old daughter was out in the freezing dark, slowly dying of hypothermia.
I kicked open the front door with such ferocious velocity that the brass handle dented the drywall behind it.
The living room was quiet, save for the crackle of the gas fireplace and the sound of my nephew Hunter laughing at a video game on the eighty-inch flat screen.
My mother, Beatrice, sat at the head of the mahogany dining table, delicately cutting a slice of beef with silver cutlery.
Beside her, Lauren was sipping red wine, while ten-year-old Paige was scrolling through a tablet in her pajamas.
"Where is my daughter, Beatrice?" I roared, marching into the dining room with rainwater dripping from my hair and soaking my red scrubs.
Beatrice didn't even drop her fork; she merely dabbed her painted lips with a linen napkin and leveled her cold, judgmental gaze at me.
"Lower your voice in my home, Rachel," Beatrice commanded, her voice smooth, condescending, and utterly devoid of human remorse.
"Your daughter is an undisciplined, insolent little brat who needed to understand that respect is earned through labor."
"She is eight years old!" I screamed, slamming both palms onto the table until the crystal wine glasses rattled violently.
"It is thirty degrees outside, the rain is turning to sleet, and you pushed her into the woods with nothing but a thin cotton sweater!"
"She threw a temper tantrum over a simple household chore," Beatrice sneered, taking a slow sip of water.
"I told her that if she wanted to act like a wild animal, she could stay outside with the strays until she apologized."
"She probably walked down to the neighborhood convenience store to buy candy with stolen change," Lauren piped up from across the table, avoiding my eyes as she swirled her wine.
"You're being completely hysterical, Rachel, just like you always are when things don't go your way."
I looked at these two women—my own flesh and blood—and realized with horrifying clarity that there was no humanity left in their souls.
They had not forgotten Chloe in the yard; they had intentionally discarded her into the freezing storm to break her spirit.
Before Beatrice could utter another poisonous insult, the sound of multiple sirens echoed down the suburban street, red and blue strobe lights painting the dining room walls in brilliant flashes.
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"You think this is a minor family dispute, Mother?" I whispered, my voice shaking with a mother's lethal vengeance.
"Those are state search-and-rescue teams, and if my baby doesn't survive tonight, I will ensure you spend the rest of your pathetic life in a concrete cage."
