Dad rubbed his jaw, still frowning. "Nor me. Freddie Cooper, in my living room, apologising. Never thought I'd see the day."
Teddy let out a sharp laugh, though there was no humour in it. "Apology or not, if I see Harry again, I'll finish what I started. I'll rip his head off!"
"Teddy —" Mum began, half-warning, half-scolding.
But I cut in, surprising even myself with the steadiness of my tone. "No. Let him feel that way. Because I… I don't feel scared anymore. Not now. Not with all of you here." My eyes swept over them — Dad's fierce protection, Mum's quiet strength, Teddy's loyalty burning like fire. "I think I'm ready. Ready for us to call the police. I don't want Harry to do this to anyone else."
Dad looked at me for a long moment, something proud and pained glinting in his eyes. "That's my girl," he said quietly, his voice breaking just slightly.
Mum pressed a kiss to my hair. Teddy reached over, resting his hand on mine, his grip firm and grounding.
And for the first time since the alley, I felt strong. Not because the fear had disappeared, but because I knew I wasn't alone.
The knock came sooner than I expected, firm and deliberate against the front door. Dad was the one to answer it, his voice low but controlled as he let the two police constables in. The sight of their dark uniforms against the warmth of our living room made my stomach twist. I wanted to disappear upstairs, into my bed and pretend it wasn't happening, but there was no escaping it now.
"Emma, this is PC Hughes, and WPC Turner," Dad said, his tone clipped, as though introducing them made it more bearable.
The woman officer, Turner, stepped forward first. She had sharp eyes that missed nothing, but her voice was steady and kind. "Emma, I know this is difficult. But it's important we get your statement tonight while everything is fresh in your mind. We'll take it slow. You can stop at any time."
I nodded, though my throat was so tight I could barely swallow. Teddy was next to me, his hand gripping mine, grounding me. Mum on my other side, practically shielding me completely. Dad didn't sit. He stood by the window opposite us, jaw clenched, arms folded, a storm in his eyes.
WPC Turner opened her notebook. "Can you tell me, in your own words, what happened this evening?"
The words caught in my chest like thorns. I wrapped both hands around Teddy's, drawing strength from him. I began haltingly — walking home, Harry appearing, the way his voice had dripped arrogance, then anger. His hand clamping on my arm. The alley. The slap. Hitting me against the wall. My voice faltered and wavered, but Teddy's grip tightened each time, and I kept going.
The more I said, the worse it became. I was reliving it with each word. Speaking the truth out loud made it real again, as if I was back in that dark alley, pressed against the wall with Harry's sneer inches from my face. I fought to keep breathing evenly, to stay anchored in the room, in the warmth of my family.
When I reached the part where Teddy had pulled Harry off me, my brother's fingers twitched in mine. I risked a glance at him and saw his jaw tight, eyes fixed on the floor. He hadn't let go of my hand once.
PC Hughes wrote quickly, head bent. He didn't interrupt, didn't look up, I could sense the fury simmering under Dad's silence as I spoke. I wasn't used to this side of him — my dad rarely lost his temper or raised his voice. But now, the quiet fury rolling off him was more terrifying than shouting ever could be.
Finally, Turner closed her notebook. "Emma, I know this isn't easy, but you've done so well. There are a couple more things we'll need tonight. For the record, we'll need to photograph any bruises or marks Harry left. Would that be alright?"
I froze. The thought of it made my stomach lurch. Photographs meant stripping away the last of my privacy, letting strangers catalogue what he'd done.
Mum touched my shoulder quickly, sensing the panic. "Love, it's just to prove what happened. I'll be with you the whole time. You've nothing to be ashamed of." Her voice was fierce, protective, the sharpness I'd grown up with softened now by a raw maternal tenderness.
Dad's voice was grimmer. "It needs to be done. He doesn't get to walk away from this."
I swallowed and nodded once. "Okay."
They didn't take the photographs in the living room. WPC Turner suggested the kitchen, where the light was brighter. Mum guided me in, one hand steadying me as if I might break. The male constable followed, but turned discreetly away, focusing on his notes. Dad and Teddy stayed in the hallway. Close enough for me to feel their presence, but distant enough to give me privacy.
"Let's start with your arms," Turner said gently.
With trembling hands, I pushed up my sleeves, exposing the red imprints along my arm. She lifted the camera, the sharp click breaking the silence.
My skin crawled. I stared fixedly at the kitchen floor, counting the lines between each square to keep from crying.
"Your cheek as well, love," Mum said softly, brushing my hair back so the faint mark from Harry's slap was visible. The camera clicked again. Then my back, I pulled my shirt up and Mum held it in place while Turner took the photographs.
"That's enough for tonight," Turner murmured, lowering the camera. Her voice was firm, but her eyes were sympathetic. "We'll also need you to see a doctor, just to record the bruises properly in a medical report. It can wait until the morning. You won't have to do that alone either."
I nodded again, numb.
When we returned to the living room, Mum tucked a blanket around my shoulders as if I were a child again. Dad moved to the fireplace, leaning heavily against the mantel, staring into the dark grate as if he could burn a hole through it.
"Will he be arrested?" Teddy asked suddenly, his voice sharp.
"We'll be speaking with him," Hughes said carefully. "But Emma's statement, the photographs, and the medical report, will all strengthen the case."
"He doesn't deserve to be at home," Teddy muttered, eyes still blazing. "If I see him again —"
"That's enough," Dad cut in sharply, though his voice shook. "We'll let the law handle him."
For the first time that night, I saw how rattled Dad was. He didn't shout, but his eyes glistened with fury and fear. I realised he wasn't just angry at Harry — he was terrified of what could have happened.
After the constables finally left, promising to follow up in the morning, silence settled heavy over the house. I clutched the blanket tighter, still feeling the echo of Harry's hands on me, even though he was long gone.
"You're safe now," Mum murmured, kneeling beside me. "You're home. And we won't let anything happen to you again."
I nodded, though my throat burned with tears. For the first time in hours, I felt it — truly felt it. Loved. Protected. Not just by Teddy, who had fought for me, but by all of them.
It didn't erase the fear. It didn't erase the memory. But it built something stronger around me, something Harry Cooper could never break.