On Saturday mornings, he would let himself in and call upstairs as though he already belonged there.
Looking back, there were signs.
Kayla became quieter.
She stopped talking constantly at dinner.
She began wearing long sleeves even as the weather grew warmer.
She canceled plans with her closest friends.
She always had an excuse.
She was tired.
She had homework.
She didn’t feel well.
I noticed.
But I explained everything away.
That is one of the hardest things for me to admit now.
For months, Kayla had also been excited about prom.
She talked about her dress constantly.
The pictures.
The corsage.
Going with Steven.
Her classmates were even saying she might win prom queen.
The date was circled in pink on our kitchen calendar.
And now, on the morning of the dance, she stumbled into the bathroom, saw herself in the mirror, and screamed.
