Chapter 4
I ran to Dad's bedroom without knocking.
"Dad!"
He sat upright.
"Maya?"
I was shaking so badly I could barely hold my phone.
"Someone sent me this."
He took it.
I watched his expression change.
The photograph.
The threat.
The angle.
He stared toward the hallway.
Then immediately called Rebecca.
I stood beside the bed, trembling.
"Who took it?" I whispered.
Dad looked at me.
"I don't know."
My eyes filled.
"Was someone in my room?"
He swallowed.
"That's what we need to determine."
I started crying.
He pulled me close.
I let him.
For several minutes, I couldn't stop shaking.
Then Dad called the police.
He explained that I'd received a threatening message and that the photograph appeared to have been taken inside our home.
An officer arrived later that night.
Dad showed him the phone.
I explained when the message appeared.
The officer asked whether anyone else had access to my room.
I looked toward the hallway.
"Mom."
Dad's expression tightened.
The officer took notes.
He advised us to preserve the message and avoid deleting anything.
Then he asked whether there were security cameras in the house.
Dad nodded.
"Hallways and exterior entrances."
The officer requested that the relevant recordings be preserved.
I sat beside Lily while the adults spoke.
She looked terrified.
"Maya?"
I turned.
"Yeah?"
She whispered, "I'm scared."
I took her hand.
"Me too."
Her eyes filled.
"Do you think Mom did it?"
I hesitated.
"I don't know."
She looked down.
"But somebody wants us to stop talking."
I nodded slowly.
That was exactly what frightened me.
The next morning, Dad arranged for us to stay with Grandma Evelyn while the house was checked.
Grandma lived twenty minutes away in a beautiful brick home surrounded by oak trees.
I'd always loved visiting her.
She made cinnamon rolls every Sunday.
She kept family photographs in every room.
And she never made us feel like we were interrupting her life.
When we arrived, she opened her arms.
"My babies."
Lily started crying immediately.
I followed her inside.
Grandma hugged us both.
Dad explained what happened.
Her face changed.
She looked at him.
"Marcus, how long has this been going on?"
He lowered his eyes.
"Longer than I realized."
Grandma shook her head.
"I warned you Denise was too hard on Maya."
Dad looked devastated.
"I know."
She continued.
"You kept saying she was just trying to teach discipline."
His voice broke.
"I know, Mom."
I stood silently.
I'd heard Grandma defend me before.
But Dad always said Mom and Grandma simply had different parenting styles.
Now he was finally listening.
Grandma turned toward us.
"You girls are staying right here."
Lily looked relieved.
I felt tears rise.
For the first time in days, I could breathe.
That afternoon, Rebecca called Dad with an update.
The security system had recorded Mom entering my bedroom several times while I was away.
The footage didn't show what happened inside.
But the timing matched Lily's account.
There was also a recording of Mom carrying a small black device upstairs.
Dad asked what it was.
Rebecca said it needed further examination.
My stomach tightened.
Could it have been a camera?
That possibility made me feel sick.
The following day, investigators located a small concealed recording device near the bookshelf in my bedroom.
I stared at Dad when he told me.
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then I started crying.
Someone had secretly recorded me in my own room.
The place where I changed clothes.
Studied.
Cried.
Slept.
I felt violated.
Dad immediately reassured me that professionals were examining the device and that my privacy would be protected.
He promised the investigators would handle any recordings appropriately.
But I couldn't stop thinking about it.
How long had it been there?
Who installed it?
Who had watched?
And why?
That evening, Grandma sat beside me on the porch.
She handed me a warm mug of tea.
I stared at the garden.
"Grandma?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Why does Mom hate me?"
Her expression changed.
"Oh, Maya."
I looked down.
"I try so hard."
My voice broke.
"I get good grades. I help around the house. I don't go out without permission."
Tears filled my eyes.
"But nothing is ever enough."
Grandma took my hand.
"Sweetheart, your worth isn't determined by how well you satisfy someone else's expectations."
I swallowed.
"Then why does she always make me feel like I'm bad?"
Grandma looked sad.
"Sometimes adults have problems they refuse to face, and they take those problems out on people who depend on them."
I nodded slowly.
"That doesn't mean you're bad."
My tears began falling.
She hugged me.
I held on tightly.
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then Grandma whispered, "Your father is learning how to protect you."
I looked up.
"Do you think he'll keep doing it?"
She nodded.
"He has to prove that through his actions."
I appreciated that answer.
She didn't make promises for him.
She simply told me the truth.
The following morning, Dad arrived early.
He brought breakfast.
Pancakes.
Fruit.
And Lily's favorite orange juice.
He looked tired.
But he smiled when he saw us.
"Good morning, girls."
Lily ran toward him.
"Daddy!"
He hugged her.
Then looked at me.
"Morning, sweetheart."
I smiled weakly.
"Morning."
He sat beside us.
For a while, we ate together.
Then he told us something important.
"Denise is staying with Aunt Patricia for now."
My stomach tightened.
"She's not coming back?"
Dad took a breath.
"Not while we're determining how to keep everyone safe."
I nodded.
Lily looked down.
"Is she mad at us?"
Dad's face changed.
"No."
He reached for her hand.
"Whatever your mother feels, it's not your responsibility."
She nodded slowly.
Then whispered, "Does she still love us?"
Dad swallowed.
"I can't speak for what she feels right now."
His voice softened.
"But I can promise that my love for you isn't changing."
Lily began crying.
He hugged her.
I looked away.
For the first time, Dad wasn't trying to explain away Mom's behavior.
He was simply being honest.
Later that afternoon, Detective Angela Brooks called.
Dad answered in Grandma's study.
I was nearby when I heard his voice change.
"What?"
A pause.
"Are you sure?"
Then silence.
I stepped toward the doorway.
Dad looked up.
His face was pale.
He ended the call.
I swallowed.
"Dad?"
He stared at me.
Then whispered, "The camera wasn't installed recently."
My stomach dropped.
"How long?"
He closed his eyes.
"The investigators found recordings going back almost a year."
I felt cold all over.
May you like
And suddenly, I understood that the slap in the kitchen had not been the beginning of Mom's cruelty.
It had simply been the moment someone finally saw it.
