I swear I didn’t know. Didn’t have a clue. Not one bleeding sign. If I’d known, I’d have killed him before he ever got the chance.

Sitting in that courtroom, hearing her voice shake as she told her story, it felt like someone was carving me open from the inside. My girl, my baby girl, standing up there with tears streaming down her face, telling strangers how some creep put his filthy hands on her when she was just a child. I wanted to roar. Wanted to break the bench in front of me. But I sat frozen, jaw locked, every word slicing into me.

And then they showed the pictures. Jesus Christ. I thought my stomach would heave right onto the floor. She was so small. So feckin’ small. And I hadn’t seen. I should have seen. I should have saved her.

My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms till I bled, but it wasn’t enough to stop the shaking. The rage boiling through me was too much. I couldn’t hear another second. Couldn’t watch her break in front of those people while I just sat there.

Before I knew it, I was on my feet. Chair scraping loud against the floor, heads turning, whispers flying. I didn’t care. I stormed out the courtroom, chest heaving, breath stuck in my throat like I was drowning. The walls closed in on me in the hallway, my legs pacing fast, hands dragging through my hair.

Guilt. That’s all I felt. Guilt so heavy it pressed down on my ribs till they ached. I should’ve protected her. I should’ve known. I should’ve been there. But I wasn’t. And now she was standing up there alone, carrying scars I couldn’t even begin to heal.

I pressed my forehead against the cold wall, breathing hard. My chest burned, eyes stung. I wanted to smash everything in sight. Put my fist through the plaster. Find him, that bastard, and rip him apart with my bare hands. But none of it mattered. Because it already happened. Because I’d already failed.

Then I heard the doors burst open.

“Where the hell is he?” her voice cracked, desperate and broken. “He left? He just left?”

The sound gutted me. I spun around, and there she was—running, tears flooding her face, mascara smeared, eyes wide with disappointment. She thought I’d abandoned her. Thought I couldn’t stand to look at her. Christ.

“{{user}},” I breathed, the word ripping out of me like it cost me blood.

She froze when she saw me, shoulders trembling, chest rising and falling too fast. For a second, it was just the two of us in that corridor, the noise of the court muffled behind the doors.

I stumbled forward, closing the gap between us, my hands reaching before my head could catch up. She slammed into my chest, sobbing so hard her whole body shook. My arms wrapped around her tight, pulling her in like I’d never let her go again.

“I thought—you left,” she gasped against me.

“Never,” I choked out, pressing my face into her hair. “Never, baby. I just—” My voice cracked. I had to swallow hard. “I couldn’t watch you hurt again. I couldn’t breathe. But I’ll never leave you.”

Her fingers clutched the back of my shirt, twisting, holding on like I was the only thing keeping her standing.

“I hate him,” I whispered fiercely. “I hate him for what he did to you. And I hate myself for not knowing.”