Sarah spent months convincing herself that accidents happened.
Toddlers fell.
Children bumped into furniture.
Bruises appeared.
That was what every exhausted parent told themselves when life became too chaotic to inspect every mark.
But deep down, she knew something wasn’t right.
Emma was only two.
She still mispronounced words.
Still carried stuffed animals everywhere.
Still reached for her mother whenever a room felt unfamiliar.
The first bruise showed up on a Monday evening.
Sarah noticed it while helping her into pajamas.
Michael explained it immediately.
The second bruise appeared days later.
Another explanation followed.
Then another.
And another.
Each story sounded reasonable on its own.
Together, they started sounding rehearsed.
Sarah documented everything.
Photos.
Dates.
Times.
Patterns.