Click

“That’s it. You’re doing great.”

Click.

“My pretty little girl. All mine.”

He drops the camera.

“Now uncover yourself.”

I make a whine, a keen of shame, and He levels me with a ferocious glare.

“Now you know you have to be quiet,” He says sternly, roughly. “You have to behave. Maybe…maybe your sister will listen better than you.”

She’s plucking through a song downstairs with our piano teacher. It’s not fair. All I want to do is play piano. But I don’t want her to have to do this.

My stomach drops, and shame and embarrassment rumble around in my chest. I feel like I’m sinking, drowning. I lower my arms.