bitter, unstable, dramatic, greedy, and every other word used to make blood sound inconvenient.
I had watched guilty men straighten their ties and smile toward cameras.
I had buried my husband.
But I had never held my own child as evidence.
At 5:47, I called 911.
My voice remained steady.
I need Advanced Life Support at the downtown bus terminal, Bay 6, I said. Adult female, severe blunt-force injuries, possible internal bleeding, loss of consciousness, exposure to freezing temperatures.
The dispatcher asked whether I was safe.
I looked at
