Every night, when I was preparing to bathe Emily, Robert would show up near the bathroom and say,
“You’re tired. Let me take a bath.
I refused the first time.
The next night he offered again. When I told him I didn’t need help, a strange tension appeared on his face.
“It would be better if I did,” he whispered. Please.
That “please” didn’t stop going around in my head all night.
The next day, Emily’s teacher called me and told me that my daughter had been unusually quiet during classes. He had asked to go to the school infirmary, but he refused to explain the reason.
I felt my heart shrink.
When I got home, I opened the closet of bedroom Emily’s. In the lower drawer I discovered a bag containing the clothes that Robert had taken from him for the last few days. Some garments had dark spots that were barely distinguished.
