Just like that, Reginald forgot about me and my blood-soaked arm. He jumped in his car and sped off.
The exhaust fumes hit me so hard I couldn't stop coughing.
I pulled my gaze back in silence, figuring I'd find a pharmacy for some burn cream and bandages.
My phone rang.
The teacher's voice on the other end was stern.
"Is this Moira Walker's parent?"
"Moira's been involved in an incident at school. We need you to come in."
I didn't even have time to treat my wound. I rushed straight to the school.
When I pushed open the office door, my daughter was standing alone in the corner.
Across from her, a little boy was being cradled like a treasure, shielded on all sides.
He poked his head out and spat at my daughter, pulling a face.
"Nyeh nyeh nyeh, you don't have a daddy! You're a bastard!"
"Your mom's a used-up tramp nobody wants, and when you grow up, you'll be a little tramp too!"
The air left my lungs. I pulled Moira into my arms and pressed my hands over her ears.
I was about to ask what kind of parents raised a child to talk like that.
Then I looked up and met Reginald's eyes.
The expression on his face was complicated.
That was when I saw clearly who was shielding that little boy.