I slam a heavy wooden chair into his path. It topples over. He stumbles. The noise is loud enough to bring neighbors to their windows.
My father starts coughing hard, his whole body shaking.
My mother scrambles to hold him up, crying.
I kneel beside my father, my voice urgent. “Dad, look at me,” I say. “Stay awake. Please.”
His eyes meet mine, full of shame. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “We didn’t want you to worry.”
My throat burns. “You should’ve told me,” I whisper back. “I would’ve come.”
He shakes his head weakly. “He said… he’d hurt the girl.”
My eyes flick to Lucy.
And suddenly I understand why my parents stayed silent.
They weren’t just protecting themselves.
They were protecting her.
Sirens cut through the air a few minutes later.
Two sheriff’s deputies step inside, hands near their belts, eyes scanning the room fast.
Travis changes instantly. Hands up. Voice sweet.
“Officer, thank God,” he says. “This man broke in. He’s threatening us.”
I let him talk for two seconds, then I lift my phone.
“I have video,” I say. “And I have bank records.”
The deputies’ expressions change.
The older one turns to Travis. “Sir, step outside.”
Travis stiffens. “What? No. I live here.”