Chapter 3 - The Broken Frame
Ethan’s chest heaved up and down, his heavy breathing filling the narrow space between the walls.
His right hand stayed cupped behind Maya’s head, pressing her cheek firmly against his heart so she couldn't see the glass on the floor.
"If you ever touch her again," Ethan rasped, his voice dropping an octave into a dark, ragged register, "I will ruin you."
On the floor, Clara pushed herself up onto her palms, her nails scraping against the hardwood.
She spat a strand of hair out of her mouth, her eyes wild and bloodshot as she stared at the broken vase.
"She’s a terror, Ethan!" Clara choked out, her hands shaking violently as she wiped her forehead.
"She was hiding things! She threw my keys! I was only trying to discipline her—"
"You don't discipline a baby," Ethan cut her off, his eyes cold, narrow, and dark as coal.
"You don't touch my blood."
At his waist, Maya’s small hand crept out from the folds of his shirt.
She didn't point at Clara.
She pointed her tiny, chubby index finger toward the base of the massive oak linen cabinet standing at the end of the hall.
Her stuffed rabbit swung uselessly from her wrist, its loose ear dangling by two threads now.
Maya’s breath hitched in her throat, a little hiccup shaking her small shoulders.
"Daddy..." she whispered, her voice tiny, clear, and wet.
Ethan leaned down slightly, his jaw set like iron.
"What is it, baby?"
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"She hid mom's papers," Maya said.
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