something slides across Fen’s face, an expression of disappointment, even of pity, that this is an insane way to think of an injured woman in need of help, and maybe she’s right but what the look tells me more than anything is that my daughter no longer trusts me. If I worried she was slipping away before, now I’m sure of it. She doesn’t feel safe with me, or maybe it’s that she has no expectation of me keeping her safe, of my ability to recognize danger, which is my only job as her father. I am filled with panic: I must keep hold of her, and I don’t know how to.
