Chapter 3
The hospital smelled like soap and medicine.
I sat beside Grandma's bed, swinging my feet because they didn't reach the floor.
Daddy stood near the window.
He'd been talking quietly with a social worker named Mrs. Brooks.
I couldn't hear everything.
But I heard the word safety.
Then I heard custody.
And suddenly, my stomach began hurting.
I knew what custody meant.
Mom and Daddy had talked about it after their divorce.
They tried not to argue in front of me.
But sometimes I heard things anyway.
Daddy wanted me to stay with him more often.
Mom said my school was closer to her house.
The judge had decided I would spend most school nights with Mom and visit Daddy on certain weekends and holidays.
I'd gotten used to it.
Sort of.
But I never stopped wishing I could have both my parents in the same room without everyone looking uncomfortable.
Now I was afraid someone would make me choose again.
Grandma noticed my face.
"What's wrong, baby?"
I looked at her bandaged arm.
"Am I going to have to pick?"
She frowned.
"Pick what?"
"Mommy or Daddy."
Her eyes filled.
"Oh, sweetheart."
I looked down.
"I love both of them."
Grandma reached toward me with her uninjured hand.
"I know."
I took it.
She squeezed my fingers.
"You're allowed to love both."
I swallowed.
"Even if Daddy's mad at Derek?"
She nodded.
"Even then."
I leaned against the bed.
For a while, we stayed quiet.
Then Grandma asked something unexpected.
"Maya, have you ever been afraid to come home from school?"
My stomach tightened.
I looked toward Daddy.
He was still speaking with Mrs. Brooks.
I lowered my voice.
"Sometimes."
Grandma's face changed.
"Why?"
I stared at the blanket.
"Because I never know if Derek's in a good mood."
She closed her eyes.
I continued.
"Sometimes he laughs when I tell jokes."
I swallowed.
"Other times he gets mad because my shoes are by the door."
Grandma's hand trembled.
"Did he ever frighten you on purpose?"
I thought about that.
Then nodded.
"Once he slammed the kitchen cabinet really hard."
Her eyes filled.
"And he said it would be my fault if Mommy got upset."
Grandma looked devastated.
I didn't understand why.
I thought I was telling her something ordinary.
Something that happened in our house.
But she looked like I'd told her the saddest thing in the world.
She gently touched my face.
"Maya, adults are responsible for their own anger."
I nodded.
She continued.
"Not you."
I looked down.
"I know."
But the truth was, I wasn't sure.
I'd spent so long trying not to make Derek angry that I'd started thinking everything was my responsibility.
If the house was messy, I cleaned.
If he was tired, I stayed quiet.
If Mom looked upset, I tried to make her laugh.
I thought that was how families stayed happy.
A few minutes later, Daddy returned.
He pulled a chair beside my bed.
"Princess, we need to talk."
My stomach tightened.
"Am I in trouble?"
His face softened.
"No."
I exhaled.
He took my hand.
"You're going to stay with me while the adults work out what's safest."
I nodded.
"Tonight?"
"Yes."
I looked toward Grandma.
"What about her?"
Daddy smiled gently.
"Grandma's going to stay with Uncle Raymond after the doctors say she can leave."
I frowned.
"Why can't she stay with us?"
Grandma smiled.
"Because your daddy's apartment has more stairs than I want to climb right now."
I almost laughed.
She had a point.
Daddy lived in a townhouse with three floors.
Grandma hated climbing stairs even when she wasn't hurt.
Still, I didn't want her out of my sight.
"What if Derek finds her?"
Daddy squeezed my hand.
"The police and the grown-ups are working on a safety plan."
I nodded.
Then I asked, "What about Mommy?"
Daddy took a slow breath.
"She's on her way."
My stomach dropped.
Mom was coming.
I loved her.
I missed her.
But I was afraid she'd be angry.
She'd told me many times that Derek worked hard.
That he was under pressure.
That I shouldn't complain every time he corrected me.
I didn't know what she'd say when she learned I'd called Daddy.
Twenty minutes later, the door opened.
Mom rushed inside.
Her hospital scrubs were wrinkled.
Her hair was pulled into a messy bun.
Her eyes were red.
"MAYA!"
She ran toward me.
I stood.
She hugged me so tightly that I almost lost my balance.
"Oh, baby!"
I started crying.
"Mommy!"
She kissed my forehead.
Then looked at Grandma.
"Mom, are you okay?"
Grandma nodded slowly.
"I will be."
Mom stared at the bandage.
Then covered her mouth.
"My God."
Daddy stood beside the window.
"Angela, we need to talk."
Mom turned toward him.
"Where's Derek?"
Daddy's jaw tightened.
"The police are looking for him."
She looked confused.
"Derek said there was a misunderstanding."
I froze.
He'd called her.
Of course he had.
Mom continued.
"He said Mom became upset and Maya panicked."
My stomach dropped.
I looked at her.
"Mommy, that's not what happened!"
She turned toward me.
Her expression softened.
"Maya, sweetheart—"
"HE HURT GRANDMA!"
My voice cracked.
Tears poured down my cheeks.
I pointed toward Grandma's arm.
"He grabbed her!"
Mom stared.
I continued.
"And he tried to get into my room!"
Her face went pale.
Daddy stepped closer.
"Angela, Maya called me while Derek was pounding on her door."
Mom slowly turned toward him.
"What?"
Daddy nodded.
"I heard it."
Grandma spoke quietly.
"It's true."
Mom looked between us.
Then sat down.
For several seconds, she didn't speak.
Finally, she whispered, "Derek told me Maya was exaggerating."
My heart broke.
I looked down.
There it was.
The word I'd heard so many times.
Exaggerating.
Derek used it whenever I told Mom he frightened me.
He said I was dramatic.
Too sensitive.
Always looking for attention.
I started crying harder.
Mom looked at me.
Then something changed in her face.
She reached for my hands.
"Maya."
I shook my head.
"I'm not lying."
Her eyes filled.
"I know."
I stared at her.
She continued.
"I'm listening now."
I wanted to believe her.
More than anything.
But I was afraid.
Daddy stepped beside me.
Mom looked up at him.
Then asked quietly, "What happens next?"
Daddy took a breath.
"We follow the safety plan. And we make sure Maya isn't put back in danger."
Mom nodded slowly.
She looked devastated.
Then her phone rang.
She glanced at the screen.
Her face changed instantly.
Derek.
I saw his name.
Mom stared at it.
Daddy noticed.
"Don't answer without speaking to the officer first."
But before she could put the phone away, a message appeared.
I saw it.
Only four words.
"Tell Maya to cooperate."
My stomach turned.
Mom looked at the message.
Then at me.
And suddenly, she seemed to understand something she'd been refusing to see.
Derek wasn't worried about Grandma.
He wasn't worried about me.
He was worried about what we would tell the police.
Mom began crying.
May you like
Then she whispered, "What has he been doing in my house?"
And for the first time, I realized my mother was finally starting to believe us.
