“Then tell me!”
“I can’t. Not yet.”
Those words frightened me even more.
The following week, Emily stopped going to school.
When I returned home from work, I found her lying in bed.
Her face was unusually pale, and her lips had almost no color.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“I’m just tired, Mommy.”
I walked over to adjust her pillow.
And that’s when I noticed two small bloodstains on her white bedsheet.
My hands went cold.
“Emily, have you been bleeding?”
My daughter immediately pulled the blanket over the stains.
“Please, Mommy, don’t be angry with Daddy.”
I hadn’t even mentioned her father.
“Why would I be angry with Daddy?”
She closed her eyes.
“I promised I wouldn’t tell.”
Just then, Robert appeared in the doorway.
His eyes fell on the sheet.
His expression changed instantly.
“Emily, why didn’t you call me?” he asked nervously.
Then he turned toward me.
“Margaret, I’ll take care of this.”
“No! This time, you’re going to explain everything.”
He lowered his voice.
“Please. Not in front of her.”
I couldn’t sleep that night.
Terrible possibilities kept racing through my mind. I tried to remember whether Emily had ever said something important that I had failed to notice.
The next morning, I found an opportunity to speak to her alone.
“Emily, do you feel safe with Daddy?”
She looked at me in surprise.
“Yes, Mommy.”
“Has he ever made you do anything you didn’t want to do?”
“No! Why would you ask that?”
I hugged her tightly.
But my fear wouldn’t disappear.
The following evening, Robert once again accompanied Emily to the bathroom.
This time, I decided to listen secretly.
At first, I heard running water.
Then, suddenly, Emily let out a piercing scream.
“AAAHHH! DADDY! IT HURTS!”
