Dear Emmy,

I have decided to write it all down for you, even though I do have my doubts. I wonder if you really need to know exactly what happened to us–me, you, Callie–at the hands of our unpredictable, vicious mother. How we lived back then, when I was fifteen and you only seven, all of us full of fear. And then full of hope when we met Murdoch, the man who seemed to be showing us an easier future. What Murdoch did and what he couldn’t do. What you and I did. Part of me hopes that you’ll go along happily your whole life and never want to know the details.

But I need to make sense of it. I need to try to turn the experience into something valuable for you, and for myself–not just something to be pushed away and forgotten. Emmy, the events we lived through taught me to be sure of nothing about other people. They taught me to expect danger around every corner. They taught me to understand that there are people in this world who mean you harm.

Matthew