Her blue eyes widened. Her cheeks went red. She shoved her hands into her pockets and rushed up to stand beside her mother. She trembled there, looking up at me. Her chest rose and fell.“Hi, Chantelle,” I said, holding out my hand. “You don't have anything to be afraid of. We're going to give you the confidence to love your father.”She swallowed and then took my hand with her trembling fingers. Her warm digits held me lightly. I smiled and gently pulled her into the house. Tonya was beaming as I did. The girl stared up into my eyes, her cheeks going redder and redder.“See,” Tonya said, grabbing Barbara's hand and pulling the married woman in after her daughter. “This is going to be perfect. The bedroom is this way.”“And I just wait down here?” Barbara asked, staring at the living room. “Of course not,” said Tonya, this wicked gleam in her blue eyes. “You need to be up there to support your daughter. Help her out.”What was my daughter up to?“Oh, okay,” Barbara said. “Anything to help. Instinctively I knew it was her. I slowed, and came to a stop on the shoulder, before slowly reversing. Before I could even put the car in park, there was a knock on the passenger side window, it was her. She was wearing big dark sunglasses, and a coat with long jeans, even though it was out of character for her at this time of year. I unlocked the doors, and she climbed in. Her mascara was already running down her face from behind her glasses. And her whole body shook with the force she was exerting to keep herself from crying still. I could feel my heart rate quicken, and I asked her, ‘Alice, I want you to tell me the truth. Are all the bruises you have all the time from your husband?’ I knew the answer. I kept my hand on my wheel, and my eye straight forward, and tried to brace myself from the rage that was building inside of me, as she said, ‘Yes. Frank beats me.’ My blood began to boil, my fists tightened on the steering wheel till my knuckles were white. My shoulders tightened.
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