I still hear my own terrified whisper begging the 911 dispatcher to hurry, because I was certain the sudden silence downstairs meant I’d just lost my mom forever.

Clara told us about the plea deal two weeks later.

Vince had agreed to testify against David. In exchange, he’d plead guilty to misdemeanor assault and child endangerment, and serve five years in prison. No probation. No early release for good behavior.

“Five years isn’t enough,” Mom said, her jaw tight.

Clara nodded. “I know. But it’s something. And his testimony will make sure David gets way more. He’s already given the prosecutors a full statement. He admitted he was there that night. He admitted he watched David hit your mom, dozens of times. He even admitted he held her down once, last winter, when David was mad about her talking to a neighbor.”

My throat went tight. I remembered that night. Mom had a black eye the next day. She said she’d fallen down the stairs. I’d known she was lying.

Now I knew the truth.

The DA’s office called a few days later. They wanted me to give a recorded statement.

I froze when Mom told me.

“I don’t want to,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Mom knelt down in front of me, her good hand on my shoulder.

“You don’t have to,” she said. “No one can make you. But if you do, it’ll help make sure David never hurts anyone again. It’ll help keep us safe.”

I thought about that night. The rain. The closet. Mom begging them to stop. The silence after the last crash.

I thought about Ethan’s drawing, the four stick figures smiling in the sun.

“Okay,” I whispered.

The interview was at the DA’s office, in a small room with soft chairs and a box of tissues on the table.

A woman named Mara, who worked with kid witnesses, sat with me. She was nice, and she let me hold a stuffed bear while I talked.

Officer Hayes was there too, sitting in the corner, giving me a small nod when I looked at her.

Mara asked me simple questions first. What my favorite color was. What Ethan liked to play. Then she asked about that night.

I told her everything.

I told her about the rain, about hiding in the closet, about calling 911. I told her about Dad and Vince drinking, about the shouting, about the bruises on Mom’s arms. I told her about lying to Ethan, saying we were playing hide-and-seek, because I didn’t want him to be scared.

My voice shook the whole time. I cried more than once.

But I didn’t stop.

When I finished, Mara reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

“You’re so brave, Chloe,” she said. “That was the hardest thing you’ll ever have to do.”

I didn’t feel brave. I felt empty, like I’d poured all the fear and hurt out of myself and there was nothing left.

Officer Hayes drove us back to the shelter.

“You did good,” she said, looking at me in the rearview mirror. “That statement is gonna be huge at trial. David won’t be able to lie his way out of this.”

Mom squeezed my hand.

I looked out the window, at the cars passing by, at the kids playing in a park.

For a second, I felt light. Like a weight I’d been carrying for years had gotten a little smaller.

That night, Ethan drew another picture.

This one had a police officer, with a big blue hat, standing next to our stick figure family.

“Officer Hayes,” he said, pointing to the stick figure. “She keeps us safe.”

I taped the drawing to the wall next to my bed.

I still checked the lock every night. I still had nightmares sometimes.