The trauma inflicted by my stepmother echoed through every corner of my childhood. I was nine when my mother died. Two years later, George and I met our stepmother, Dotti, and our two half-brothers, Rick and Ron.

Ron was born the day after our mother died—October 15, 1962.

That date would take on deeper meaning in the years to come.

From the very beginning, Dotti made her resentment of us clear. Her abuse was constant and unrelenting.

She struck out physically—yanking my hair, slapping my face, locking me in closets, and denying me meals.

Her true cruelty lay in her emotional warfare: calculated, relentless, and all-consuming.

There was no respite, no safe moment. Her […]