Upstairs, Emily and Michael huddled together in the corner of Emily’s room. The familiar comfort of her pink walls and stuffed animals did little to ease their anxiety. They listened intently, straining to catch any hint of the conversation below. The distant murmur of voices only added to their unease, the tone of their father’s voice a mere shadow of reassurance against the looming dread of Vanessa’s presence.
Emily’s mind raced. She had always been the braver one, standing up to Vanessa when things got tough. But bravery had its limits. Her memories were a jumble of incidents — the time Vanessa grabbed her too tightly, the sharp words that cut deeper than any slap. Emily worried for Michael, who had always been more sensitive, his tears too readily available when Vanessa’s anger flared.
