Our nephew, Ethan, had been living with Marcus and his wife, Diane, since my younger sister, Laura, died in a car accident two years earlier.
Laura had been a single mother.
After her death, Marcus offered to take Ethan into his home, insisting that the boy needed a stable family rather than temporary foster arrangements.
I had been grateful.
Now, looking at Ethan’s frightened face, I felt sick.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
Marcus lowered the rubber band.
“Teaching him responsibility.”
I stared at him.
“By hurting his eyes?”
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