She took two steps back, opened her mouth, and began to scream.

My hands remained clasped behind my back throughout the entire clip, my posture unmoving as she yelled.

“Daniel,” I said.

He did not look at me.

His eyes remained glued to the digital loop of his daughter fabricating a crime.

“Ava,” Daniel said, his voice barely a whisper.

He looked up the stairs at her.

Ava’s fingers gripped the wooden banister so hard her knuckles turned white.

“Ava, look at me,” Daniel said, his voice rising, echoing off the high ceiling of the foyer.

She stayed silent, her chin pressed against her collarbone.

“Did you do that?” he asked.

“Did you knock it over yourself?”

She didn’t answer.

She pulled her oversized gray sweater tighter around her shoulders, trying to shrink into the shadows of the upper hallway.

“Answer me,” Daniel demanded, taking two steps up the stairs.

“Ava, the police were here.”

“They have a record of this now.”

“I… she was being mean to me,” Ava whispered, her voice cracking.

“Did she touch you?” Daniel asked, his voice shaking.