He had threatened her into silence afterward, warning that nobody would believe her and that she would destroy our family if she spoke.
I felt as though the floor had disappeared beneath my feet.
The man I had slept beside for nineteen years. The man who attended every school concert, every birthday celebration, every family holiday.
My daughter’s own father.
“Why didn’t you call me?” I whispered.
Emily lowered her eyes.
“Because he said you’d choose him.”
I wrapped my arms around her.
“Never, sweetheart. Never.”
That night, I told Daniel my mother needed me and that Emily would be coming with me.
He looked directly at our daughter.
“Why does she need to go?”
“Because she’s my daughter,” I answered.
For the first time in nineteen years, I wasn’t afraid to look him in the eyes.
We left with two suitcases.
Once we reached my mother’s house, I contacted a hospital and arranged for Emily to speak privately with a doctor and a specialist experienced in helping young victims of abuse.
