“I tried to catch it, but she was too fast.”

“She’s lying,” Megan screamed, her voice cracking as she pointed a shaking finger at my mother.

“She heated it up on purpose.”

“She said if I tried to call you again, she’d put it against my stomach.”

“She put it on my arm to show me she meant it.”

The kitchen smelled of stale grease and the chemical lavender scent of the ointment.

I looked at the blistered skin on Megan’s arm, the shape of it perfectly matching the pointed tip of our rowenta iron.

“You did this to her,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

“I did what had to be done to keep my grandchild safe,” my mother said, her chin lifting slightly.

“She’s unstable, Jake.”

“She doesn’t deserve this family.”

“She was going to ruin everything.”

I took a step backward, pulling Megan with me, keeping my body between her and my mother.

The radiator in the corner hissed, a puff of steam rising into the cold air of the apartment.

My mother took another step forward, her fingers twitching against her side.