Let The Dying Baby Sleep

Summary

From the first afternoon the Bradfords dragged me back to their gated suburban estate, I became the family’s pet freak—the walking, babbling joke of their high-society circle because of my so-called "infantile syndrome."

I had to be coaxed and spoon-fed by three rotating housekeepers just to swallow a meal.

I couldn’t step down a single flight of stairs on my own, whimpering until my father lifted me.

I even threw myself onto Sabrina’s prized golden retriever, dragging my limp weight over the poor dog’s back to use him like a pony.

My family loathed every breath I took.