Molly
The moment he reaches me, he pulls me into his arms, holding me tightly.
I break down completely, sobbing against his chest and clutching his shirt.
“She looked so bad,” I cried. “Her face was awful.”
He rubs my back gently. “It’s going to be okay. She’s strong. She’ll be fine.”
I let myself cry until I finally calmed down a little. He helps me sit back on the bench and sits beside me, keeping his arm around me.
“It was Mike,” I whisper. “He did this.”
His jaw tightens. “I know.”
“When I lived in that house,” I continue, “sometimes she’d limp. Sometimes she’d wear heavy makeup at night. I thought it was strange, but I never pushed her.”
My voice shakes. “She was hiding bruises.”
“That coward,” Charles mutters.
“I begged her to leave him,” I say. “So many times. She never
