She can’t explain that in these past three days, even with a blind, frantic, grief-stricken mother, Oliver was in better hands with Rebecca than with her. She can’t tell her that she’s literally held Oliver maybe twice since he was left on her doorstep. She can’t tell her how, in her darkest moments, she’s thought about shaking him to make him stop crying, how every time she looks into his innocent face, she thinks of how Evelyn ruined their family. She has to let go of these thoughts. Even Dr. Gibbons doesn’t know. No one does.

Until today.

She can’t tell her that the more she didn’t mention having a baby, the more in control she really felt. Pam had the baby. Pam took care of the baby. Savi was like a big sister when Pam and Oliver were around, but with Crystal, it was just mother and biological daughter, as it should be. But she was even failing at that. Savi was acting out, vying for her attention. Nothing seemed to work.

Crystal had done everything she could about the colic. She’d taken him to a specialist. She’d called over a sleep guru, but nothing. And then, after only a few days with Rebecca, he was happy as a clam. Because she was a better mother than Crystal.

She watches Rebecca dismantle all of this across the table and waits for questions. When she doesn’t ask any, Crystal finally speaks up. “Are you going to press charges?” They are the only words she can think of, and they are cowardly.

Rebecca drums her fingers on the table, those long, tapered hands that care for babies, play the cello, and hold the keys to her fate. Her glazed, jade eyes slide toward hers, and a chill slithers down her spine. Sometimes she swears Rebecca can see her. She could never admit it, but there have been so many moments in the last few months where Crystal has been envious of her friend’s lack of vision. Crystal is so good at pretending things are invisible; sometimes she wishes they really were.

Suddenly, Rebecca stands, startling Jackson, who is nearly sound asleep against his mother’s chest. His eyes jolt open and then settle as he sucks rhythmically on his pacifier.

“Bec?” She stands too and takes a step forward, then stops. “Are you going to…?” She can’t finish the sentence but she needs to know. She needs to know what’s going to happen to her.

Rebecca knocks on the door and someone comes to get her—probably Jake. The moment Rebecca walks out that door, Crystal is on her own. Pam can’t help. DCFS can’t help. She has no real friends. All of this is her fault, but she can’t do anything to change it. She can’t go back. She can’t undo her choices, as much as she wants to.