“I was wrong!” he cried, voice fast and flat like he had memorized it. “I deserve punishment. I will go to the cold storage now. Three hours. I will not cry. I promise.”
I felt my soul crack.
Slowly, I lifted my head and looked at David.
I did not say a word.
I demanded an answer with my eyes.
Before he could open his mouth, Roxanne rushed in and pulled Ryle into her arms, hugging him tight like a saint in a painting.
“You misunderstood everything, sister,” she said softly. “Ryle and I play house all the time. Sometimes I am the servant. Sometimes he is. Today was just his turn. He is very imaginative.”
I stared at her.
Then I lifted my hand and pointed at my son’s neck. My finger would not stop shaking.
“This!” I said hoarsely. “This is not imagination. These are marks! These are injuries. You call this a game? Is this how you treat my son?”
Roxanne’s eyes filled with tears.
David’s face darkened. He shoved me back hard enough that I stumbled.
“That's enough!” he snapped. “Do you enjoy humiliating people in public this much? You always loved making scenes! Roxanne is nothing like you. She has no schemes, no poison in her heart.” He pointed at Ryle like he was an object.