I raced toward the school, my pulse hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. The principal’s voice had been tight, urgent, and terrifying. Six strange men in work uniforms were at the school, demanding to see my twelve-year-old daughter, Letty. My mind spiraled into a dark, suffocating abyss. It had been only three months since my husband, Jonathan, passed away from cancer, and the sudden appearance of these men felt like a sick, twisted cosmic joke. Was grief coming back to steal the last piece of my heart? I slammed my car into park, terrified of what I would find.
