Chapter 1 - HE'S FOUR YEARS OLD
Noah Miller was already curled into a ball on the backyard grass when Sarah Collins pushed through the garden gate.
His small arms covered his head and shoulders.
Robert Miller stood over him holding a thin wooden switch.
“Stop crying!”
The switch came down once against Noah’s guarded upper arm.
Then again against the opposite shoulder.
Noah cried harder.
“Daddy… please!”
Robert stepped in front of him when he tried to crawl away.
That was when Sarah ran.
She grabbed Noah under the arms, pulled him behind her, and spread herself between father and son.
“Get away from that child!”
Noah clung to the back of her cream cardigan.
Robert moved toward them.
Sarah blocked him.
He shoved her shoulder.
She stumbled one step, recovered immediately, and moved back in front of Noah.
“He’s four years old!”
Robert’s face hardened.
He threw the switch onto the grass.
“He’s my son!”
Sarah did not move.
Robert jabbed a finger toward her.
“I hit my own son—what’s that got to do with you?!”
Sarah’s expression changed.
Not louder.
Colder.
“Everything.”
Robert laughed.
“You think you know what it’s like raising him?”
Noah flinched at the word him.
Sarah felt it through the little hand gripping her cardigan.
She looked down.
Several bruises were already visible on Noah’s upper arms.
Older.
Different colors.
Not from what she had just seen.
Sarah looked back at Robert.
“How many times?”
Robert’s face went still.
Then he said:
May you like
“You have no idea what he’s like.”
And Sarah realized the argument was not going to be about one switch.
