The Secret About Tommy
Lauren’s parents were whisper-fighting now.
Her father hissed under his breath.
“Not again, Patricia. You said she was better.”
The word again hung in the air like poison.
But then my son spoke again.
“But that’s not why I hit her.”
The room froze.
“What do you mean?” I asked slowly.
His voice trembled.
“Last week… I saw her coming out of Tommy’s room at two in the morning.”
My blood turned to ice.
Tommy was nine.
