Clara doesn’t move at first. She’s still gripping Jonah’s little shoulders as if I’m going to snatch him away. Her eyes dart toward the closed door, then back to me. For a heartbeat she looks like a cornered animal.“I can’t,” she whispers.“You can,” I tell her gently. “It’s just us now. He’s not here.”Her chin trembles. “You don’t understand. He…he promised he’d take Jonah if I ever told anyone.”“I do understand.” My voice comes out firmer than I expect. “I’ve seen the reports, Clara. The bruises. Natalie found everything. You don’t have to hide anymore.”Her breath comes in short, sharp bursts. Then, slowly, she rolls up the sleeve of her blouse. Angry purple bruises bloom along her upper arm, fingerprints dark against pale skin. “This was last week,” she says flatly. She turns her wrist, there’s a faint, healing cut. “And this.”The air in the small room feels too thin. Jonah shifts in his wheelchair, small hands tightening on his tablet. “Mommy…” he murmurs.“It’s okay, sweethe
Last Updated : 2025-10-01
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