Days passed, and the tension in our home grew palpable. My daughter asked if she could stay at a friend’s house for the weekend. I hesitated, then agreed, realizing I needed some space to think. The house felt empty without her, like the walls themselves were quieter, waiting and watching.
I spent a lot of time staring out the window, wondering if anyone else was watching, waiting to call me out for something I couldn’t quite figure out yet. One afternoon, I caught sight of Mrs. Ellis standing by her fence, glancing in our direction. Our eyes met, and she nodded, but said nothing.
The calls from the school continued, the counselor’s words were careful, asking if everything was alright, if my daughter was comfortable. Each conversation left me more unsettled, the knot in my stomach tightening with every word. I tried to focus on routine tasks, hoping clarity would come, but the unease lingered like a shadow, always there, just out of sight.
