Caleb shrugged, as if bravery were just something that happened when there was no other choice.

“What’s your full name?” Reyes asked.

“Caleb Benson.”

“And your sister?”

“Eliana,” he answered, then added quickly, “But I call her Ellie.”

Reyes wrote it down, his pen slowing just a fraction. “Did anyone else see what happened tonight, Caleb?”

Caleb shook his head. “Just me.”

“Are you hurting anywhere else?”

Caleb paused. His fingers tightened at the hem of his shirt. Then, without a word, he lifted it.

The room went still.

Bruises bloomed across his ribs and stomach—some fading into yellow, others deep and recent. Evidence of pain layered over time, hidden beneath a child who had learned not to speak.

Dr. Patel turned her face away for a moment. Experience hadn’t made moments like this easier. It never did.

Reyes exhaled slowly, steadying himself.

“Caleb,” he said gently, “I need to ask you something difficult.”

And for the first time that night, the boy’s eyes finally left the door