I sat on the edge of Cindy’s bed, my heart heavy with concern. My daughter’s tear-streaked face mirrored my own worry, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply troubling her.
“Honey, can you tell me why you cry when grandma comes over?” I asked gently, hoping to coax the truth out of her.
Cindy sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before speaking in a small voice. “Because of her friend,” she murmured.
Confusion clouded my thoughts. “What friend? Grandma always comes alone,” I replied, trying to make sense of Cindy’s words.
Cindy shook her head, her eyes wide with fear. “No, Mommy, she’s not alone. She always brings her friend with her,” she insisted.
I frowned, unable to comprehend what Cindy was trying to tell me. “Sweetheart, Grandma doesn’t have any friends who come over with her,” I said gently, hoping to reassure her.
But Cindy’s expression remained troubled, and she reached for her favorite stuffed toy, clutching it tightly to her chest. “But Mommy, her friend… he’s always there. He watches me when you’re not looking,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
A chill ran down my spine as Cindy’s words sank in. Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place, and I felt a surge of panic grip my heart. Could it be possible? Was Cindy implying that my mother’s visits were not as innocent as they seemed?
I hugged Cindy tightly, my mind racing with fear and uncertainty. It was time to confront my mother and unravel the truth behind Cindy’s cryptic words. Little did I know that the conversation with my daughter was just the beginning of a harrowing journey to uncover the dark secrets hidden within our family.
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