“You don’t understand,” she sobbed, the dam finally breaking. “He sees everything.”

And then, as if summoned by her terror, the double doors of the cafeteria swung open.

The man standing there was gaunt, wearing a faded denim jacket that hung loosely on his frame. His eyes were sunken, dark pits that scanned the room with manic intensity. He didn’t look like a parent dropping off a forgotten lunchbox. He looked like a storm making landfall.

Lily stopped crying instantly. She went rigid.

“Daddy!” she cried out.

It wasn’t a cry of relief. It was a plea for mercy.

My heart sank into the pit of my stomach. I stepped in front of Lily, shielding her, but I knew, with a sickening certainty, that the battle had just begun.