I come home at 1:03 a.m.

The house is completely dark. No lamp. No glass of water waiting. For a second I think he has gone to bed and I have won something. Then a hand closes around my wrist from behind and pulls me back against a solid chest.

“One hour and three minutes,” Daddy says against my ear. His voice is calm. Almost soft. “You really wanted to know what worse looks like.”

He doesn’t take me to the office this time.

He walks me straight upstairs to the master bedroom, the same room where he tied me the night before. Mom is still on her overnight shift....