“Call someone, Madison.”
He stepped aside just enough to make the invitation feel like a cruel joke.
“Let’s see who believes you.”
My father’s laughter followed those words, and suddenly I remembered every time I had remained silent because I expected the same reaction.
I remembered teachers asking about my injuries, relatives noticing my anxiety, and friends wondering why I never invited anyone into our home.
I remembered how Dad could transform himself into a patient, reasonable parent whenever someone outside the family questioned what happened behind closed doors.
His calmness had always frightened me more than Aaron’s temper because it made the truth seem impossible to prove.
But three weeks earlier, I had finally decided that I could no longer depend on someone believing my word alone.
Aaron had entered my bedroom while I was away, searched through my belongings, and accused me of stealing money that I had never touched.
