"Where else does it hurt? Tell Mommy. Don't be scared. Mommy won't let them get away with this."
I kept my voice soft, terrified she'd be too afraid to show me.
Carly stopped crying. She looked down at her feet.
I followed her gaze, and something inside me caught fire.
Her shoes were black, so I hadn't noticed before. But now I could see that one of them was darker than the other, the surface saturated with something wet.
My hands shook as I slipped the shoe off her foot. Cold flooded through me. Not fear. Rage.
The little toe on her right foot was a mangled mess of blood and flesh, crushed by something heavy.
How scared she must have been when it happened. I didn't need to imagine. I already knew.
My eyes burned red.
"Did your son do this, or did you tell him to?"
Maria showed no trace of guilt.
"Does it matter? Compared to the filthy things you've done, this is nothing. I could've had Owen beat her to death, and it would've been a mercy that I didn't."
I lost it. My foot slammed into her stomach.
Years of taekwondo behind that kick sent her flying back two or three yards. I heard something crack. A rib, at least one.
But even that was nothing compared to what Carly had suffered.