For years, my stepfather kept my twin sister and me living in constant fear, as though our suffering was the only thing that satisfied him. One night, after beating us until we both lost consciousness, he carried us into the emergency room while my mother quietly told the doctors, “They just fell down the stairs.”

The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow.

My mother was not a victim trying to survive Edric's abuse.

She had been his active partner the entire time.

If she destroyed the hidden smartphone, the police would have absolutely no audio evidence of his confessions.

Edric's expensive lawyers would easily claim Chloe and I fabricated the abuse to steal the trust fund early.

I knew I had to stop her, but the police officer stationed outside our door refused to let me leave the room.

I waited until a team of nurses rushed past with a critical patient, creating a chaotic distraction in the hallway.

I slipped out of the bed, grabbed a doctor's white coat hanging on the back of the door, and quietly blended into the crowd.

I successfully bypassed the security desk and walked out into the cool night air.

I flagged down a passing taxi and promised the driver a massive tip if he hurried to my address.

The ride felt agonizingly slow as streetlights blurred past the windows.

I arrived at my neighborhood and asked the driver to drop me off two blocks away from my house.

I crept through the dark alleyways, ignoring the sharp pain radiating from my bruised ribs.

The lights in my living room were completely turned off, but the front door was slightly ajar.

I quietly pushed the door open and stepped into the silent hallway.

I expected to find my mother frantically tearing the floorboards apart in my bedroom.

Instead, I heard the heavy, rhythmic sound of a hammer smashing into wood coming from the living room.

I peaked around the corner and saw the floorboard near the heating vent already ripped open.

However, the person standing in the shadows was not my mother.

It was a uniformed police officer, holding my father's shattered smartphone in his gloved hand.

He placed the phone on the hardwood floor and raised a heavy steel hammer directly above it.

Before I could stop myself, a small gasp escaped my lips.

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My father bet twenty dollars that I would walk through his front door al...

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The officer froze, slowly turned around, and pointed his service flashlight directly into my eyes.

"Your stepfather said you were a clever girl," the officer sneered, reaching for the firearm at his waist.

Chapter 3 - The Corrupt Badge