Then I opened a twenty-seven-second video that destroyed me.
Olivia sat crying on the floor while my mother filmed her detergent-irritated hands.
“See what happens when you act lazy around here, so stop crying right now before your father gets home, or he will realize your mother doesn’t know how to raise you properly,” my mother warned coldly.
I slammed the laptop shut.
Then I rushed to the bathroom and became sick.
Not only because of what my mother had done.
But because I finally understood my own role.
I had left the two people who depended on me most with someone hurting them because confronting the truth would have made my life uncomfortable.
The next morning, I took Jessica for a complete medical evaluation and arranged for Olivia to meet with a child psychologist.
The medical report documented injuries from multiple dates, severe skin irritation from cleaning chemicals, cuts, burns, and chronic inflammation in Jessica’s wrists.
