“ROBERT! OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!”
Something fell inside.
Emily called my name in fright.
Then the door opened.
I had prepared myself for the worst.
But what I saw was completely different.
Emily was sitting on a small chair, fully dressed, with a towel around her shoulders. Robert was holding a folder of medical documents.
“Tell me what’s happening!” I demanded.
My husband silently handed me the folder.
It contained medical test results.
They were in Emily’s name.
And they carried the hospital’s official stamp.
“Margaret, three months ago, Emily became sick at school. She was extremely dizzy and had unusual bleeding. She was frightened, so she asked me to take her to the doctor.”
I stared at my daughter.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”