My 15-year-old daughter kept complaining about nausea and severe stomach pain. My husband brushed it off and said, “she’s just faking it. Don’t waste time or money.” So I secretly took her to the hospital myself. The doctor stared at the scan and whispered, “there’s something inside her…” All I could do was scream.

My legs finally gave out and I sank into the chair behind me as a terrifying thought took root in my mind. I wondered if the person who had hurt my daughter had been living under our roof the entire time.

Megan spoke again after a moment and suggested that it might be best if Maya and I stayed somewhere else for the night. “Why would we need to do that?” I asked weakly.

“It is just a precaution until we can understand the situation better,” she explained. The word precaution made my skin crawl with a sense of impending doom.

She asked if I had somewhere safe to go and I nodded slowly while thinking of my sister Rachel. “Good,” Megan said as she handed me a card with important contact numbers on it..…continue reading…