Whenever I knocked on the bathroom door, Scott always answered in the same calm tone that never changed. He would say, “Almost done,” as if repeating those words could make everything seem normal and harmless.
When they finally emerged, Emily seemed different in some way that was hard to explain but impossible to ignore. She remained silent, withdrawn, and wrapped the towel around her body, as if she wanted to disappear from the room completely.
One night, when I reached out to gently comb her hair after one of those long baths, she flinched for just a second, but enough for me to notice. That little reaction stayed with me, because it planted a seed of doubt that refused to go away, no matter how hard I tried to push it away.
That night, after another long bath that seemed endless, I sat next to her on the bed as she held her stuffed bunny close to her chest. I asked her softly, “What are you doing there for so long?” hoping she would feel safe enough to answer me.
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