I instinctively reached for her hand, but a nurse gently stopped me.
“Please don’t touch the bandages.”
My throat tightened painfully.
“What happened?” I asked. “Who did this to her?”
The doctor looked at me carefully.
“She wants to explain it herself.”
I leaned closer to my daughter.
Emily was breathing slowly, as if every breath took effort.
“Dad…”
“Yes, baby.”
Her lips trembled.
“My stepmom… Rachel…”
A cold shiver ran through my body.
“What did Rachel do to you?”
Emily closed her eyes for a moment, as though the memory itself hurt.
“She burned my hands…”
The words knocked the air from my lungs.
“What?”
Her voice cracked as tears rolled down her face.
“She said… thieves deserve punishment…”
The room went silent.
“Thieves?” I repeated in disbelief.
Emily began to cry harder.
“I only took a little bread…”
The words came out between sobs.
“I was really hungry…”
No one in the room spoke.
The doctor looked down.
The nurse wiped at her eyes.
I stood there, frozen.
“Rachel said I stole food,” Emily whispered. “She said I needed to learn a lesson.”
More tears slid down her face.
“She pushed my hands onto the stove.”
My vision blurred with rage.
“How long?” I asked, my voice barely controlled.