When I told my mother that I had bought a house, after saving for ten years to achieve it, she grabbed my hair and held a lighter to me.

My father looked like a broken man who had finally realized that his silence had been a form of permission for years of abuse and manipulation. “Audrey, please tell me what you want from us so that we can find a way to end this nightmare and move on,” he said in a cracked voice.

“I want every dollar returned through a court-ordered payment plan, and I want a permanent restraining order against my mother,” I replied with a steady voice. My mother let out a sharp, mocking laugh and asked if I was really going to ask for a protection order against the woman who gave me life.

“I am asking for protection against a woman who held a flame to my head, because the title of mother does not give you a license to be a monster,” I countered. Celine began to sob loudly about how her wedding was being ruined, but I only looked at her with a sense of profound and ancient exhaustion.