"Once upon a time, I disappeared." So begins Karen Palmer's harrowing and redemptive memoir, She's Under Here.

In 1989, shortly after her second marriage, Palmer and her new husband quit their jobs without notice. They pulled her two young daughters out of school and buckled them into the rear seat of a used car purchased with cash. The trunk was packed with clothing and toys, pillows and blankets, four place settings, one pot, one pan, and a sack that contained every penny they had. Living with the fear of Palmer's dangerous ex-husband had become untenable: This was DIY witness protection.

In this searingly honest and heartwrenching account, Palmer examines why she ended up trapped, how she escaped, and the ongoing perils of life constructed around a false identity. She ruthlessly explores the lines between desire and fear, victim and perpetrator, captivity and freedom, and exposes myriad aspects of what it means to make difficult choices as a woman, when none of the options are good. She's Under Here is a haunting meditation on themes of disappearance, betrayal, and private violence, and it is utterly unforgettable.