One eye was badly bruised. Her lip was split. Marks covered her arms. Her elegant white dress was torn and stained.
My beautiful daughter. Daughterparent bonding
The same little girl who used to call me every evening to tell me about her day.
The same child who made drawings for soldiers whenever I returned from deployment.
Now she could barely lift her head.
“Mom…”
I wrapped my arms around her.
Her entire body shook.
Then I heard laughter behind me.
“How dramatic.”