The woman in the picture was so young she looked like a child. Her hair was loose, eyes wide, blue T-shirt stark against the pale lines of arching collarbones. I felt the air leave me in a quiet rush. Not because of the way the photo captured her fleeting youth, but because of the way it highlighted the bruise. It was a photo of me. Rachel Price has just one happy memory from her childhood: the moment her father took her hands while playing outside on a cold, snowy day and called her his angel. It was a rare and sacred moment in her young life, one in which she finally felt...
The woman in the picture was so young she looked like a child. Her hair was loose, eyes wide, blue T-shirt stark against the pale lines of arching ...
