Savannah

"Mom!"

My scream tore through the kitchen as I burst through the back door, the hinges rattling from the force. My throat burned from crying, but I couldn't stop calling her name. "Mom! Where are you? Mommy!"

Every step was a struggle, my legs trembling beneath me as a cold, hollow ache settled deep into my bones. My chest heaved, lungs dragging in air that felt like broken glass. My eyes were bloodshot and swollen, the world blurring behind a fresh veil of tears. I felt shattered, as if my very soul had been discarded in the dark.

"Mom! Dad!" My voice cracked as I stumbled further inside, clutching the counter to keep from collapsing. "Where is everybody?!”

"Shhh! Savannah, keep your voice down."

The sound startled me. I whipped around, my heart thudding painfully. It was Alyssa. Her brows were pinched together, her lips pressed into a thin, nervous line.

"Why are you screaming? What happened?"

Relief slammed into me, so heavy I nearly fell. "Where's Mom? I need her—I need her now."

Alyssa held up a finger, her eyes flicking toward the hallway. "She’s in a meeting with Dad. Important people. If you keep yelling, Dad will flip. You know how he is about his reputation."

"But this is more important!" I cried, my voice breaking. "Please, Alyssa. I have to see her."

Finally, her gaze landed on me fully. She froze. "Oh my God, Savannah. You look... you're a mess. Your clothes are torn. What happened?"

The tears came harder. I clutched her hand with all the strength I had left. "You have to believe me. Please."

Her eyes darted over my face, panic rising in her own expression. "Of course I'll believe you. You're my sister. Just tell me."

I forced the words out, each one feeling like a jagged stone. "Professor Kingston. He... he took everything from me. He wouldn't stop, Alyssa. No matter how much I begged."

Her breath hitched. She went rigid, her hand slipping from mine as if I were made of ice.

"You don't believe me?" I whispered, the desperation clawing at my throat. "You promised."

She grabbed my wrist and tugged me toward the pantry, shutting us inside the dark, suffocating space. "Savannah... are you sure? Do you know what you're saying? He’s Dad’s friend. He’s family. Why would he risk his career, his status, for... for this?"

"I don't know why!" I sobbed. "I told him no. I fought him. But he didn't care."

Alyssa paced the tiny space, her breathing ragged. "This is going to destroy everything. Dad will lose his mind. What if they don't believe us?"

Before I could answer, the door swung open. Mom stood there, her eyes narrowing as she scanned our disheveled forms.

"What is going on in here?"

"Savannah has something to tell you," Alyssa blurted out, her voice trembling.

Mom’s gaze snapped to me, pinning me in place. I shook, my hands slick against my skirt. I tried to speak, but the words died in my throat.

"She was attacked," Alyssa said, the word cutting through the air like a blade. "By Professor Kingston."

The world went silent.

Mom’s expression hardened instantly. Her hand shot out, clamping over Alyssa’s mouth. "Quiet!" she hissed, her eyes darting down the hall. "Do you have any idea what that kind of accusation does to a family like ours?"

"Mom!" I cried, clutching the fabric of my torn skirt. "Look at me! Please, just look at what he did."

She looked. For a fleeting second, I saw a flicker of something in her eyes, but it wasn't pity. It was terror. Cold, calculating fear. Then, she looked away.

"You keep quiet, Savannah!" her voice was sharp, a warning. "Go to your room. Now. Don't say another word about this to anyone."

Alyssa gave me one last, haunted look before slipping away. Then the door clicked shut, and it was just me and the woman who was supposed to protect me.

"Mom, I'm not lying. We can go to a doctor. They can prove it."

Her eyes bore into mine, cold as marble. "Listen carefully. You are coming with me to your father’s office. You will repeat exactly what you told me. And then, your father will decide our next move."

My heart stuttered. That wasn't a promise of help. It was a sentence of silence.

I followed her down the hall, the house feeling like a vast, empty tomb. We stopped at the heavy oak door of Dad’s office. Mom knocked once, and the door swung wide.

And there he was.

Professor Kingston.

He was laughing, standing shoulder to shoulder with my father as if the world were perfect. The same man who had silenced my screams hours ago was now sharing a drink with my father. He looked safe. He looked protected.

In that moment, the truth settled into my bones like lead: no one was coming to save me.