Chapter 1 - He Was Doing It Again
My father had my mother's face pressed toward the running kitchen sink when I came home from school.
For one second, I couldn't understand what I was seeing. My backpack slid off my shoulder and hit the floor, scattering my math book, a pencil, and the permission slip for Friday's field trip across the tile.
"Daniel, stop!" Mom choked out.
Dad tightened his grip on her arm. "You should have learned to keep your mouth shut, Sarah."
I ran at him before I had time to be scared. I was fourteen, all elbows and school shoes, and he was a grown man who could lift me with one hand.
"Let her go!"
I wrapped both arms around his waist. He shoved me away so hard I landed beside the refrigerator. My cheek struck the cabinet, and white sparks filled my vision.
"Emily, run!" Mom shouted.
Dad caught her again. I saw her eyes find mine, and in them was a message she had taught me without ever saying it aloud: get away, stay alive, call the number.
I scrambled upstairs, locked my bedroom door, and dragged the old phone from beneath my mattress. Mom had hidden it inside a sock and made me memorize the only number saved in it. She had made me practice the number until I could say it half asleep, then told me never to use it unless she could not get to a phone herself.
A man answered after one ring.
"Emily?"
"He's doing it again," I whispered. "Dad is hurting Mom."
His voice changed. "Is your mother alive?"
"Yes, but he won't let her go."
"Stay in your room. Lock the door. I'm coming."
Downstairs, something crashed. Then everything went strangely quiet.
I crept to the window. Red and blue lights flashed across the wet street. Police cars blocked the driveway, and three black SUVs pulled in behind them. Men and women in dark jackets moved toward our front steps.
May you like
From below, Dad's voice rose, no longer angry but afraid.
"Sarah," he whispered, "did you tell my father where we live?"
