Sophie glanced down the corridor, her eyes wandering into the void beyond the room, her breath coming in short gasps.
“She got angry,” she finally said after a long silence. “I spilled the juice. She said I did it on purpose. She pushed me into the cupboard. My back hit the handle. I couldn’t breathe anymore. I thought I was going to disappear…”
Rage simmered beneath Aaron’s skin, but he forced himself to suppress it. If he exploded then, Sophie would close up like an oyster.
“Sophie, look at me,” he said gently. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Spilling juice is an accident. What happened in that closet wasn’t your fault. Not ever.”
He stood up, his gaze steely. His wife, Sarah, was supposed to be at her sister’s that night, but suddenly she heard the gravel crunching in the driveway.
