In child custody cases the welfare of the child was paramount.

At the end of a case the prize for the jubilant parent, was day to day care of the child.

A fucked up child, but still a child.

A perfect mould for their flesh and blood.

But far from a whole person.

The wounds and scars were easily observed by anyone who cared to look, except the applicant and respondent.

Each parent had their own special brand of poison invisible ink that splintered like glass and sliced red beneath the soft skin and trusting eyes.


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