“Emma… honey, what happened?” My voice sounded thin and shaky, like it belonged to someone else.
She didn’t meet my eyes right away. Her eyelids were swollen and red, like she had cried for hours and simply run out of tears.
“I fell,” she murmured quietly.
I hurried over and knelt in front of her so we were eye level. Dirt covered her leggings, and one knee was scraped raw. Her small hands trembled slightly.
“Where did you fall?” I asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek.
She flinched.
Not from surprise.
From fear.
The tiny movement felt like a slap to my chest.
“At Grandma Linda’s,” she whispered.
She had spent the afternoon at my mother’s house with my older sister, Rachel. They insisted on taking her every week. They said it gave me a break. They always told me Emma loved visiting them.
Carefully, I lifted a curl away from her scalp.
The cut on her head looked jagged, crusted with dried blood. The skin around it was swollen.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Did they clean this? Put ice on it? Do anything?”
Emma stared down at the floor.
“Aunt Rachel said I was being dramatic.”
A cold weight settled in my chest.