The first time Lily came out of the bathroom blotchy, Daniel said she’d splashed lavender soap in the wrong place. The second time, he said she’d scratched herself. The third time, he smiled and told me I worried too much.
I let him turn my instincts into something embarrassing.
The detective asked whether Daniel had ever said anything about the birthmark before. I almost said no.
Then I remembered little comments I had dismissed because they were always dressed up like jokes. ‘We should ask a dermatologist to clean that up before kindergarten.’ ‘That thing is the first thing people notice in pictures.’ ‘A girl should get to start fresh.’
I had heard those words. I had just refused to hear the meaning.
Daniel was brought to the station that same night. He wasn’t arrested in front of me, but one of the officers later told me he kept insisting this was a misunderstanding. He said he was trying to help Lily before other kids made fun of her. He said I was emotional. He said people were acting like he had beaten her.
Then the police searched his phone.
Two days later, the detective called and asked me to come in.
They had found weeks of searches: remove birthmark at home, will peroxide lighten skin, how long to leave developer on skin, does abrasion help fade pigment. They also found photos. Not of Lily’s face. Just her shoulder, taken in our bathroom mirror every few days like he was tracking a project.
That made me sick in a way I still can’t describe.
