"Dylan..." I croak, but my little boy doesn't even look at me. "Dylan," I say again, my voice breaking now, and the social worker gives me a reproving look. I'm not helping, but I don't care. "Dylan " My voice is louder now, and my gaze stays locked with my son's as she pulls away from the curb and drives away, taking my very life with her.
Single mother Beth loves her seven-year-old son Dylan...