I was nine when Thomas moved in next door. The first thing my stepdad, Jeff, said to me was, “That man there is a creep.” His hand grazed my lower back as he spoke, a touch that was supposed to feel protective but instead felt like a spider crawling on my skin. “I’ll have to start doing things to protect you, sweetheart.” He gave me a strange, tight smile, as if the arrival of a supposed predator was a gift.
