When I was a little girl, my mother taught me how to use a code word if I was in trouble and couldn’t speak up. As an adult, I decided to impart this brilliant method to my baby girl. I figured she could use it to get out of sleepovers or if she had awkward hangouts. But I never imagined her needing to use it so soon.
Dave opened the door with a forced smile, his eyes a little too wide, as if he was trying to mask something. “Hey, Claire. Everything okay?” he asked, his tone too casual, too rehearsed.
I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I looked past him, scanning the room for Amy. The air felt tense, thick with unspoken words.
“She’s in her room,” Dave added, as if he sensed my growing concern.
I walked past him without saying a word, my pulse quickening. My heart was pounding in my chest, each step feeling heavier than the last. As I reached Amy’s room, I knocked lightly, trying to stay calm, but inside, I was anything but.
“Mom?” Amy’s voice cracked as she opened the door. The moment I saw her, my heart broke. There was fear in her eyes. Something wasn’t right. “Can we go now?” she whispered.
I nodded, relieved to find her safe, but knew the conversation with Dave wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
