Screenshots.
Exchange times.
The text Vanessa had sent minutes earlier.
He did not read every page in the hallway.
He looked at the first two, then at the social worker, and nodded once.
That nod did not fix anything.
But it opened a door I had been pushing against alone for too long.
Eli was treated that night.
The medical team documented everything they were required to document.
The social worker stayed until the initial report was completed.
The officer took my statement and told me what would happen next.
There would be a report.
There would be follow-up.
There would be people asking hard questions in rooms where Vanessa could not control the story with a soft sweater and a tired smile.
When I was finally allowed back beside Eli, he looked smaller than eight.
The hospital blanket covered him up to his chest.
His backpack sat on a chair in the corner.
