“He was supposed to be looking after us,” I pictured two, dark-haired infants in a crib. “My mom was out with her boyfriend. The one she was planning on leaving my dad for. She didn’t come home till the next day. I only know that because of the police records. A neighbor called the cops when they heard babies who wouldn’t stop crying. Cops came. We got taken to the hospital for some malnutrition, nothing serious.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rowan muttered in horror.

“Yeah, the start to our life pretty much dictated where the rest went.” I shrugged. “I have no idea how we weren’t taken from my mother right then and there. But she has a way about her. A charisma that she turns on that will fool anyone. Charm anyone.”

I’d seen that charm in action many times. With cops. Bill collectors. Men. Anyone she could get something from.

It was impressive.

“All that charm went outward, though. She didn’t have any left over for us.” Memories rushed through my mind, but I pushed them down. “I honestly don’t know why she bothered to fight for us then. She didn’t like us. We were nothing but a burden. Except for the benefit checks we provided for her.” I shrugged, or at least tried to. In addition to my incision pain, my entire body felt weak and achy. “Anyway, I’m not gonna bore you with the details of our upbringing. Suffice it to say, she wasn’t around much.” I picked at the hospital sheets with my free hand. “We were left on our own most of the time. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t have something to worry about. If we were going to have food. If our clothes were clean, if they would fit us. If the heat was going to stay on. If our next stepdad was gonna hate us or like us a little too much.”

Rowan jolted upright in his seat, his expression thunderous. I could feel it, his fury, leaching into the air.

“It never went that far,” I rushed to assure him. “Not with me anyway.” My stomach roiled, and pain speared through my abdomen, pain that had nothing to do with my injuries and everything to do with the scars my brother lived with.

“The one thing my mother did to show she even cared about us a little was shoot that man in the dick when she found out what he was doing to my brother.” I remembered the gunshot, how loud it was. The sounds of his screaming. The smell of the blood.

“No charges were made against her, of course,” I told Rowan, looking at him but not really seeing him. “And maybe she was a little more careful about the men she got involved with after that. But there were always men. Because my mother did not want to live in squalor. Nor did she want to do the work required to get her out of squalor.” I shook my head in disgust, thinking about the woman who birthed me.