I frowned in confusion and said, “What do you mean, sweetheart?”
“The money you send to Dad,” she replied while gripping the sleeve of my jacket with surprising strength. “Please do not send it anymore.”
A cold pressure formed in my chest as I stared at her.
“Ava,” I said carefully, “that money is for you. It helps pay for your school, your clothes, and everything you need.”
Her eyes darted toward the parking lot as if she expected someone to appear.
“Just follow him,” she whispered quickly. “Just watch him for a little while and you will understand.”
The fear in her face did not look like the ordinary worries children carry about monsters or thunderstorms. It looked like the silent fear of someone who had learned to stay quiet.
I kept my voice calm even though my pulse had started to race.
“Ava, listen to me carefully,” I said. “Is your father hurting you?”
Her grip on my sleeve tightened.
“I cannot say,” she murmured. “He gets angry if I talk about things. Just watch him and you will see.”
Before I could ask anything else she suddenly jumped off the bench and wiped the nervous expression from her face as if it had never existed.