Maeve
I’m woken up by the sound of something dripping and feel a small hand curled up in my sleeve. Another is pushing hair out of my face and patting my cheek. Trying to focus on the sounds around me, I do my best to open my eyes. Only one opens enough for me to see something, and when the hand on my face moves higher, I hiss in pain.
He hit me. Right.
“Sorry, Maeve.”, I hear Emma sniff.
“Oh, no, honey, I…”, I rasp. I try to sit up, and my hand slips on the wet floor. Tiles. Ok. Emma helps me to sit up. At least he didn’t take her with him. And he laid me down on my ‘good’ arm. How generous.
“This is all my fault.” My heart breaks when I hear my sister's small voice.
“No.” I say firmly. “That is a sick man. And WHATEVER he does or has done has nothing to do with you.”
“He hit yo
