She grew up in a cold New England house warmed by wood and strict rules: be grateful, be quiet, be nice. That training left her frozen in a speeding car with her near-centenarian great-uncle at the wheel, too scared of seeming rude to demand he stop. It left her voiceless again when a neighbor molested her on her paper route, shame and confusion twisting into the belief that her safety was less important than someone else’s comfort.
