She took a shaky breath, her hands clenched into fists so tight her knuckles turned white.
“My dad… he’s yelling. He’s hurting my mom,” she said. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added the words that made Carter’s stomach drop. “He has a knife.”
That was all it took.
Within seconds, the station snapped into motion. Radios crackled. Boots hit the floor. Officer Lopez grabbed the keys, and Carter scooped Lily into his arms, wrapping her in a dry jacket as they moved.
“Address?” the dispatcher asked.
“Birch Street. Number 214,” Lily answered before anyone else could.
The patrol car tore through the wet streets, sirens slicing through the rain. Lily sat in the backseat, hugging her knees, eyes fixed on nothing. Carter glanced at her through the rearview mirror and saw something no child should ever carry — the weight of responsibility.
She hadn’t come to the station to be brave.
She’d come because she had no other choice.
A House Full of Fear
The Anderson house sat at the end of Birch Street, its porch light flickering like it might give up at any moment. The front door was ajar. Even from outside, raised voices spilled into the night.
