“She was resting,” my mother said, taking a step closer, her hand reaching out toward my shoulder.

“I was protecting her.”

“She’s not strong enough to carry this baby, Jake.”

“If I didn’t keep her quiet, she would have lost it by now.”

Megan shook her head violently, her greasy hair whipping against her cheeks.

“She dragged me by my arms, Jake,” Megan whispered, her voice raw.

“I tried to get to the front door when you were at work on Tuesday.”

“She caught me by the jacket.”

“She threw me down on the floor and dragged me back to the spare room.”

I looked down at the linoleum, noticing for the first time the faint, dark scuff marks near the baseboard.

They matched the angle of the drag in the photo.

“The iron,” I said, my chest tightening so hard I could barely breathe. “What about the iron, Ma?”

My mother’s face didn’t change, her eyes remaining cold and steady.

“An accident,” my mother said simply.

“She was trying to use it in her state, and she dropped it.”