“Take a picture before she cleans herself up.”
Rachel pulled out her phone.
She photographed me lying there bleeding.
Michael crouched beside me.
For one foolish second, I thought my son was finally going to help me.
Instead, he whispered:
“You really need help, Mom.”
Then he looked at Rachel.
“Write down that she fell again.”
Judge Bennett stopped the video.
Gregory slowly removed his glasses.
Michael looked sick.
Rachel was crying now.
But those tears were not for me.
The judge called a ten-minute recess and ordered Michael and Rachel to remain inside the courthouse.
Michael leaned across the aisle.
“Mom.”
I ignored him.
“Mom, listen. This has gotten completely out of control.”
As if bruises had simply appeared.
As if financial documents had walked out of locked drawers by themselves.
As if guardianship petitions filed themselves.
“You can stop this,” he whispered. “You’ve made your point.”
“My point?”
