The worst part was how little Danielle could do.
She was right there in front of me.
I could see her hands.
I could see the tears moving down her face.
But she couldn't come to me.
Evan was too close.
The gun was too close.
I watched him carefully.
His eyes moved toward the door again.
Then toward the kitchen window.
It was a quick look, but I noticed it.
He seemed less certain of himself than he had a moment earlier.
That uncertainty did not make me feel safe.
It made me watch him more closely.
I was afraid he might act suddenly.
Danielle stood just behind him.
Her arms hung at her sides.
Her fingers were trembling.
She looked as though she wanted to make herself smaller.
I knew that feeling.
I wanted the whole room to become larger.
I wanted there to be enough space for her to move away from him.
But there wasn't.
He had positioned the weapon against her side.
The dress concealed it.
If I had not noticed what was happening, I might have looked at the two of them and seen something ordinary.
That thought disturbed me.
How easily danger could remain hidden.
How close I had been to missing it.
I looked again at Danielle's face.
Her lips were almost without color.
There were tears beneath her eyes.
She wasn't wiping them away.
That told me how frightened she was.
She didn't even want to lift her hand.
I kept thinking about the fact that she was my daughter.
Not because I had forgotten.
Because I couldn't believe I was seeing this happen to her.
There are moments when being a parent means knowing exactly what your child needs.
This was not one of them.
I knew she needed safety.
I knew she needed to get away from Evan.
But I couldn't see a way to make that happen without putting her in greater danger.
My fear made me want to act.
My fear also kept me from acting.
Both feelings were strong.
I didn't know which one to trust.
Then Evan spoke.
"Stay where you are."
His voice was low.
He did not need to raise it.
I heard him clearly.
Danielle stopped even the small movement she had begun to make.
I stopped too.
It was a terrible thing to feel controlled by a few quiet words.
But the gun made those words matter.
I looked at him.
His expression was different now.
I remembered the brief loss of confidence I had seen.
He knew something had changed.
I believed he understood that I had noticed the weapon.
I couldn't prove what he was thinking.
I could only judge what I saw.
He kept checking the room.
He kept his hand near Danielle's side.
And he kept watching me.
I wished I could tell Danielle not to be afraid.
But that would have been a lie.
I was afraid myself.
I had never seen her look like this.
Not once.
She had tears on both cheeks now.
Her mouth was closed.
Her shoulders were held stiffly.
I knew she was trying to follow his instructions.
I couldn't bear it.
I couldn't bear that she had to obey him just to avoid whatever might happen next.
I was angry.
That surprised me.
The fear was so strong that I had hardly expected to feel anything else.
But underneath it was anger at the sight of my daughter being threatened.
I wanted Evan to see that anger.
Then I realized how dangerous that might be.
I lowered my eyes slightly.
Not enough to lose sight of him.
Just enough to avoid challenging him with my expression.
It was a small decision.
The only one I felt able to make.
The room remained quiet.
Danielle was crying without a sound.
Evan still had the weapon against her.
I waited.
Not because I had accepted what he was doing.
Not because I believed everything would turn out well.
I waited because I didn't know how to help her safely.
That was the truth.
And admitting it, even to myself, hurt.
Click here to continue reading: PART 3: Every Time Evan Looked Toward the Door, I Wondered Whether My Daughter Would Have a Chance to Escape
My Daughter Was Standing Beside Her Boyfriend When I Realized Something Was Terribly Wrong Beneath the Dinner Table
Part 2 of 20
