Never trust a survivor until you know what they did to survive. Maggie learned that lesson when she met Rodd all those years ago. She was looking at old pictures on a calm Friday night when it all came back to her, images of the past that she had tried to bury deep.

Their first date had been amazing. They met at the grocery store where she worked, and he handed her flowers as he checked out. When he asked her on a date, she not only felt obliged to say yes, but she found herself wanting to know more about the handsome man. It didn’t hurt that she wasn’t treated that well otherwise, at home or in her friend group. Recieving those flowers was an act of kindness that she felt would usher in a new era of her life - and it did.

Over many dinners, she got to know Rodd better. Dinners turned into movie nights at each other’s apartments. Movie nights turned into nights of a more playful nature, and she found herself pregnant within the first year of their relationship.

Rodd looked over the positive pregnancy test and shook his head. “I hope he doesn’t turn out to be like my brother. Or my father for that matter.”

Maggie grimaced. “Your brother? You told me you were an only child. And your father is dead.”

Rodd nodded. “I did, didn’t I? And he is dead, but he was still a terible person.” Maggie’s heart leapt in her throat. She could feel that this was the beginning of the end. “My brother was even worse. Just very abuse. I’ve told you about the abuse.”

“You said your mom abused you, yes,” she said, taking the pregnancy test from his hand and setting it down on the table.

“It’s just hard to relive. I’m sorry. But they all abused me, all three. Some did worse things. Different types of abuse, you know. Verbal, mental, physical. Each had their role.”

“But you were taken away when you were five, you said. Put into a home and then adopted by your new parents, who I’ve met. They’re you’re adoptive parents, right, Rodd?”

He nodded. “They are. And that’s all true. I just hope our baby carries their kindness and no genetic traits from myself.”

Maggie played dumb. “Well, let’s celebrate!” But that night she sat the computer, office door locked, and searched “Rodd + Alberta”, the name of their town. She got a few hits, but one sparked her interest.

LOCAL BOY KILLS FAMILY; CLAIMS SELF DEFENSE

Her heart was thumping so loudly she thought she would faint. She clicked the article and found a family picture with a young boy, no older than five, smiling into the camera with his mother, father, and brother. He had Rodd’s features and trademark dimples. He had murdered them all.

Maggie cursed herself for not getting to know him better, for not taking her time with her research. She glanced down at the pregnancy test and prayed that genes don’t always transfer to kin.