I dialed 911.
“My name is Victoria Gallagher,” I told the dispatcher. “I’m thirty-four weeks pregnant. My father assaulted me, and my water broke. I’m outside my house, and I think I’m going into labor.”
The woman on the other end immediately began asking questions.
I answered as best I could.
Then my father appeared in the doorway.
His face was twisted with rage.
“What did you do?”
I looked up at him.
For thirty years, those four words had been enough to make me apologize for things that weren’t my fault.
Not anymore.
“I protected my daughter.”
He stepped toward me.
“Whatever Samantha told you, she’s lying.”
I didn’t answer.
He took another step.
Then a voice thundered from the driveway.
“Sir! Step away from her!”
Two police officers were running toward the porch.
Behind them, an ambulance turned into the driveway.
My father froze.
