I spent my days holed up in the house, sorting through my daughter’s belongings and planning my departure.

Ken hadn’t come home for a long time. I was a wreck, often losing my grip on reality.

In those moments, I would shatter a glass in my hand and walk barefoot over the shards until I snapped back to consciousness, blood pooling at my feet.

I would sit by the potted plants, tearing off every blooming petal or drowning the pots with water. I pressed my hands into cactus spines until they were bloody and raw.

Candice said nothing, simply staying by my side. She quietly cleaned up the glass, moved...