He told me I didn’t have to answer right away, but he made it clear that I could. My lips trembled as I whispered that I was scared to go back home. He didn’t look shocked; he looked like a man who had heard this story many times before.
He asked me to tell him why. The truth came out in broken pieces as I told him about the math class, the ignored texts, and the stop at TechPoint. I told him about the locked doors and the laughter I saw through the glass.
I expected him to tell me I was exaggerating, but he didn’t. He listened with a stillness that felt like respect. When I finished, he told me that he was going to request a visit from social services.
He typed the request into his tablet right then and there. The next morning, a woman named Paige arrived in my room with a folder in her hand. She told me that Jordan had asked her to speak with me.
She pulled a chair close and asked me to walk her through the events in order. I told her the story again, and she asked very precise questions about the timeline. She asked if I had asked to go to the hospital and if I had been able to get out of the car.