The Battle for Truth
"You weren't supposed to be home for another two hours," Sarah said, her voice devoid of its usual warmth. It was flat, cold, and calculated.
"Is that right?" David stood up slowly, positioning himself between his daughter and his wife. He didn't look at the champagne in Sarah's hand. He looked at the glass on the counter—the one she had specifically prepared.
"David, don't," Sarah warned, taking a step forward. The gold gown shimmered under the lights, making her look like a phantom. "You don't understand the pressure. You don't understand what they'll do if I don't follow their rules."
May you like
"Who?" David demanded, his voice rising, raw and angry. "Who are 'they,' Sarah? And why is my daughter hiding on the floor like a stray animal?"
"Because," Sarah hissed, her composure finally shattering, "they're watching us. Always watching. And they told me if I wanted to keep our family together, I had to ensure you 'didn't interfere' with the plans for tonight."
