Class, please open your reading books to page twelve,” she instructed, her voice a mask of calm despite her racing heart. “Madison, you’re in charge until I return.”

She guided Emily to the quiet reading corner and pulled out a sheet of paper and some crayons. “Emily, can you draw what you’re talking about? What scared you?”

The little girl hesitated, then her small hand moved across the paper, creating crude, childish shapes that made Mrs. Henderson’s stomach tighten with each stroke. When Emily finished, she pushed the paper toward her teacher with trembling fingers. Mrs. Henderson stared at the drawing, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a gasp. The sketch showed something that no six-year-old should ever have to draw. Her mind raced through a horrifying Rolodex of possibilities.