My voice echoed off the high, plaster ceiling.

“Dad!”

Her voice was muffled, coming from behind a heavy oak door at the very end of the hall.

I walked quickly down the carpeted runner, my boots sinking into the plush pile.

There was a heavy brass deadbolt on the outside of the door.

They had locked her in like a prisoner in her own home.

I selected the largest brass key on the ring.

I slid it into the lock.

It turned with a heavy, metallic click.

I pushed the door open.

Emily was sitting on the edge of a massive king-sized bed.

Her left eye was swollen shut, a deep purple bruise spreading down her cheekbone.

Her bottom lip was split and caked with dry blood.

She looked up at me, tears welling in her good eye.

“Dad,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

I dropped the baseball bat onto the carpet and walked to her.

I knelt down on the floor and took her hands in mine.

They were cold, shaking like dry leaves in the wind.