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Abby is a beautiful woman in her twenties, and she seems to have it all: a wealthy husband, a killer wardrobe, trips around the world, and a beautiful home. What her jealous friends don't know is that her reality is far from the pretty picture they see.
"If you like stories about rebirth and taking your life back, mixed with suspense and even a bit of humor, this book is for you!!"
-- Amazon review
When her nails were dry enough, Abby put the spinning tower and manicure accessories away and then returned to the living room where a mid-afternoon talk show was playing. She sat down, nudging the mute button, so if Randall watched the playback of her he would see the program unfolding in the background. As far as she knew, the room wasn't bugged. Not yet, anyhow.
Sometimes all the noise became too much for her to bear. She liked to go into her own head. It was the last safe place. But acts like pausing a show to daydream made Randall nervous.
"What's this about?" he'd ask as he fast-forwarded through moments of Abby's day, pausing at incriminating moments like her staring thoughtfully without distractions, or eating junk food, or disappearing for hours and arriving home empty-handed.
Only Krissa had an accurate idea of Abby's life. But even Krissa didn't know Abby's secret name for Randall: He was Papa Rottzy. Because he watched every move she made. And because he was old. And because he was rotten. It was the name she would have called him if she still had a sister, and if this were her sister's problem instead of her own.
She'd take her sister out for coffee and ask her, "How's Papa Rottzy? Are you ready to escape from his prison?" She'd be kidding, but she'd be serious.
In Abby's fantasies it was always her trying to help one of her little sisters out of this mess, because there was a big part of her that still couldn't believe this was her life.
