The Sound Behind the Door
Emmett carefully pushed his chair back.
The legs made a faint scraping sound against the floor, and he froze, waiting to see if anyone reacted.
Nothing.
He stepped into the hallway and looked toward his parents’ bedroom. The door was slightly open. A thin strip of warm light stretched across the floor.
Then he heard his mother’s voice.
It was soft, but it wasn’t calm.
It sounded afraid.
Emmett’s stomach tightened.
He wanted to run to the door. He wanted to call for his father. But something held him back.
A memory surfaced, clear and steady.
His father had once crouched beside him after a school fire drill and said, “Buddy, when something feels wrong, you don’t have to be the biggest person in the room. You just have to get help.”
Emmett took one slow step backward.
Then another.
He didn’t fully understand what was happening, but he understood enough.
Something was wrong.
And he couldn’t ignore it.
