Thankfully not a lot, but enough to make my throat burn.I was too blinded by pain to remember the vase for a moment, but as soon as I did, I shot a lo...k toward the sofa. Mom, streaming tears, had Amy in her arms, struggling to keep her there and whispering to her. Amy still clutched the vase in one hand, gulping air from her adrenaline, her eyes pleading with mine for some affirmation that I was okay.He didn't kick me again. He just glared down at me with his nostrils flaring, but didn't move. He was strict, and he had not hesitated to send her to the schoolwhen she had tried to run away, but he was fair and basically a gentle man.That and his self-assurance and determination were the qualities that madehim so attractive. He listened to her, asked her opinion, even encouraged herto speak up but once he decided the matter ended. No effort on her part couldpersuade him to change his mind. She expected no less from him. That was theiragreement; her life to be placed in his hands, his. More

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