Before I cut my birthday cake, my father kissed me and whispered, “Come sleep next to me tonight…” There was something in his voice that made the knife in my hand tremble.

“Beds
—You’ll sleep here, on the sofa, and I’ll sleep in the bed,” he said. “We’ll lock the door from the inside.”

I asked her if we were in danger. She sat on the edge of the bed and covered her face with her hands.

“I made a bad decision, Emily. I thought I could handle everything myself. But I’m afraid something might happen tonight.”

A chill ran through my body. I remembered the phone call, the closed curtains, and the fact that Dad hadn’t let me walk home from school alone for several days. At 11:30, we heard a noise downstairs. Someone slowly opened the kitchen door.