But Naomi's eyes were red with fury. She kicked me to the ground and shoved the phone in my face.
“Still trying to lie your way out of this? The evidence is right here!”
Her voice was shaking. She looked like she wanted to tear me apart.
I stared at the screen.
There were dozens of photos and videos that hadn’t been there before.
Each one showed my daughter dressed in different cutesy outfits, making sad, timid poses. Her eyes were wide and filled with fear.
In one video, she pleaded tearfully at the camera, “Uncles, please send Zelene some gifts, or Daddy will hit me again.”
Her voice trembled, and her eyes brimmed with tears.
The comments on the screen made my skin crawl.
[Don’t be scared, Zelene. I'll send you gifts right now.]
[Where do you live, sweetheart? I'll bring you candy.]
On and on they went.
I started shaking.
This couldn’t be real.
I just checked my phone minutes ago. None of this was on it!
“This isn’t me! I didn’t take these! I don’t even know where these photos and videos came from!”
I was trying to hold it together, but my voice cracked as I spoke.
My mind was spinning, scrambling for any memory, any explanation.
How the hell had this happened?
Garth's POV
But my phone had been in my pocket the whole day—there’s no way anyone could’ve touched it.
Suddenly, Naomi slapped me hard across the face.
“Garth! I can’t believe you’d stoop so low—forcing your own daughter to do something this disgusting!” she screamed. You don’t deserve to be a father. You’re vile!”
My ears rang, and my vision blurred due to the impact of the slap. My head also jerked to the side, and that’s when I caught my daughter’s eyes.
She was pale from the pain, but there was something else in her gaze. Something fleeting. A flicker of guilt she tried to hide.
It was her.
I lunged toward her and gripped her shoulders as panic bubbled up in my chest.
“Zelene, why?” I pleaded. “Why are you lying about me? What did I do to deserve this? I’ve always treated you well. Why are you doing this to me?!”
She burst into loud, frightened sobs and shrank back in fear.
Naomi didn’t hesitate. She kicked me several times, yelling, “How dare you still play the victim?! You better pray she’s okay. Otherwise, I swear I’ll kill you!”
If her parents hadn’t stepped in to hold her back, I genuinely think she might’ve killed me.
“Let’s get Zelene to the hospital first!” her mother urged.