“I was good mouse.”
The innocence in her voice — the effort to obey even while terror surrounded her — cut deeper than any bullet ever could.
My grip tightened.
“Where’s Mommy?”
Daphne swallowed.
Her lower lip trembled.
“Mommy put me here. She said if the bad men came... I shouldn’t open the door unless I heard your voice.”
My chest tightened painfully.
“What happened?”
Her small fingers dug into my shirt as if reliving it.
“The bad men broke the big door. They came inside shouting. They asked her questions about...”
She paused — as if trying to pull the memory from somewhere deep.
“About you...”
Her voice didn’t sound sure. Maybe she had only heard muffled voices through walls.
It shrank into something smaller.
“Mommy said you were far away.”
My jaw hardened.
“They got angry.”
Daphne’s eyes filled with tears now — spilling over.
“They grabbed Mommy.”
My pulse spiked.
“They punched her tummy.”
The words hit like a physical blow.
“Because she wouldn’t tell them where you were.”
Her breath hitched.
“They hit her so hard... she made a funny sound.”
My stomach twisted violently.
“Then blood came.”
Her small hands moved slightly as she tried to describe it.
“Under her skirt. It was red. Like when I scrape my knee... but they didn’t stop.”
