If I lied now, I would lose him forever.
“This happens all the time,” I whispered.
The silence exploded.
Brenda laughed nervously. “She’s being dramatic—”
“Every time?” my dad asked.
I nodded.
And then it all came out.
The yelling.
The shoving.
The punishments.
The nights without dinner.
The threats whispered when he wasn’t home.
Everything.
With every word, my dad’s face changed.
Cracked.
Collapsed.
Brenda stopped smiling.
“This is ridiculous,” she snapped. “She’s lying for attention—”
But he wasn’t listening to her anymore.
He was remembering.
“Is that why your grades dropped?” he asked me quietly.
I nodded.
“Is that why you stopped inviting friends over?”
Another nod.
“…Is that why you stopped smiling?”
I couldn’t answer.
Brenda stepped forward. “David, you need to think carefully about what you—”
“I already have.”
Three words.
Devastating.
“I’m choosing my daughter.”
Something inside Brenda shattered.
“I’m your wife!” she shouted.
“And she’s my child.”
That was the difference.
That was everything.
What followed wasn’t an argument.
It was the end.
My dad pulled out his phone.
“I need someone at my house,” he said. “Now.”
Brenda went pale.
“You wouldn’t—”
“I would.”
Then he added:
“I’m also calling the police.”