Dad stopped struggling. He stared blankly
ahead, like a fish out of water. He
remembered. My right leg, unbroken after the fall, shattered by Mom’s kicks while he
watched.
He shook his head, tears streaming down his face. ““That doesn’t prove anything! It could be anyone! It’s not her! It can’t be…
L
Miller put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll run a
DNA test, just to be sure.”
Dad insisted on processing the samples
himself. He stood outside the lab for hours,
rigid, waiting.
When the results came back, he’d tried to
sound confident ““See? I told you it wasn’t
her.“”
He opened the report. 99.99% match.
Paternity confirmed. His face crumpled. The
pieces he’d so carefully reassembled…they
were his daughter.
He walked into the morgue, clutching the
report, and stared at my mangled remains. He
knew, better than anyone, what had been
done to me. He reached out a trembling hand, but couldn’t bring himself to touch my flayed
skin.
““My Ashley…how much you must have
suffered…“” His voice was a broken whisper,
then a choked sob, escalating into a gut-
wrenching wail that echoed through the room.
Miller’s eyes were red, too. ““David…I told
you. Don’t do this to yourself. Crying won’t
bring her back. We’ll catch him, David. We’ll
get justice for Ashley.“”
