Emily shifted her shoulders on the thin mattress, and her eyelids fluttered open as the monitor on the wall gave a single beep.

Richard sat in the gray metal chair right next to her bed, sitting stiffly and rubbing the faded scar on his thumb as he watched her face.

“Dad,” Emily whispered, her soft voice fading into a faint, hoarse sigh.

“What time is it?”

“Ten after three, Emmy,” Richard said, keeping his voice calm and even.

Emily tugged her sweater sleeves down hard over her wrists, pulling the dark fabric until her hands and fingers were hidden inside the cuffs.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her eyes wandering off toward the quiet corner of the room.