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Ethel sat on my bed that night.
She took my hand and squeezed it.
"Violet..." she started hesitantly.
I looked at her and saw sadness in her eyes. "I don't understand," I mumbled.
She looked at me, "I don't either. I... I don't know why Sara does these things to you. You don't deserve it." She looked at her hands. I noticed there was a new mark there.
"Do you," I started, "does she make you?"
She glanced at me, "Sometimes." She looked as if she was about to say something more but had decided against it.
"I don't understand," I repeated, trying to keep the memories out.
Carefully, she put her hand over mine and smiled sadly. "I'm sorry, Violet. I don't know how to make it better."
I stared at her as she patted my hand and walked towards the door.