The pain I endured that night was worse than what I had experienced at ten. The older Nash knew better than my stepfather how to make me suffer. In the end, he pinned me down, yanked my hair, and whispered in my ear, word by word, that I would never escape him in this lifetime.

Fortunately, the next day was a holiday, and I could compose myself before Bronx saw my disheveled state.

I guessed that my mother and Lydia must have known what I went through, but neither of them knocked on my door. After all, they shared the same blood.

Only I was the exception.

Looking at the...