Tap. Tap. Tap.

CHARLOTTE

I was sixteen again.

The cover of the threadbare comforter barely kept out the cold as I held the blanket up to my neck. I was shivering. But it wasn’t because of the weather. It wasn’t the chill in the air that rattled me to my bones.

It was the sound of his footsteps.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

They were sluggish, drawn out, and loud.

My father was drunk, making his way towards me like he’d been doing almost every night since the day mom died.

I held my breath, keeping my eyes pressed shut as I heard him climb up the stairs. I counted the seconds in my head, praying to the goddess that he would pass by Da’ana’s room the same way he always did.

Come to me, I thought. Come to me, so you can never go to hurt her.

I would take all of the abuse. All the unwanted caresses and disgusting touches. I would take it all, without a blink of an eye. As long as it meant Da’ana would never have to live through it even once.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

His footsteps came closer as he passed by her ro