The hospital door opened, pulling me from the memory. A woman with kind eyes and a badge reading Karen Holloway, Child Protective Services walked in. Trailing right behind her was a woman in a sharp blazer, her expression unreadable and hard. Detective Erin Walsh.
“Hello, Ava,” Karen said softly, pulling up a chair. “We need to talk about what happens in the dark at your house.”
I looked at the detective, terrified. “They’re downstairs,” I whimpered. “They’re going to find out I talked.”
Detective Walsh crouched down, her eyes locking onto mine with a fierce, terrifying intensity. “They aren’t coming up here, Ava. But to keep them down there, I need you to tell me exactly where to look.”
