In the end I waited until she was in school, I dropped her off there myself and gave her one of my phones so she could call if she needed me. Barring that I would be back at one to pick her up.
I sped the rest of the way to her father's house, my anger once again at the forefront. Over breakfast, which she had insisted on making though I usually had just coffee in the mornings, she’d told me some of what had happened the night before.
He’d come into her room unannounced, a practice he seemed in the habit of doing on occasion. And when she'd tried to hide her new things he had gone into a rage, screaming profanities at her, along with calling her a w***e, my w***e.
I’d kept my peace while I listened but all the while I was imagining which bones I was going to break in his pathetic body.
