“Dad! What are you doing?”
My voice came out louder than I expected.
My father, George, turned around so quickly that he nearly dropped the little plastic cup in his hand. Emily was sitting in the bathtub, her eyes wide with surprise, while the bathroom floor was covered with bubbles.
For one terrifying second, I couldn’t move.
My father looked at me, then at Emily, and finally at the small object he was holding.
“Sarah? What’s wrong with you?” he asked.
I barely heard him.
“Get away from her,” I said, stepping into the bathroom.
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