Marissa came home from work and set her keys on the counter. Four-thirty in the afternoon, she expected her children to come running to her from upstairs and be followed by the babysitter; however, not a sound was heard in the house.
“Jaeson? Mikaela? Grace?” She called at the bottom of the stair case.
Marissa walked up the stairs, worry growing in her heart with each step. She opened the bedroom door to find the kids and babysitter with Grace, whose face was tear-stained, looking at her bandaged finger. Marissa scooped Grace up, kissed the bandage, and held her baby girl tight.