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For weeks, my 15-year-old daughter Kayla suffered from constant nausea and stomach pain, hiding inside her oversized hoodie and flinching at every touch. I knew something was horribly wrong, but the doctors kept brushing it off as teenage stress. Then, while washing her laundry, I found a hidden pocket inside her jacket , my blood boiling, and that night, I walked into the faculty dinner holding a baseball bat…

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She dragged her feet. She pushed her dinners around her plate, consuming nothing. She slept as if waking were a punishment. Most unsettling of all, she had developed a hollow, impenetrable silence. She hid beneath the oversized hood of a gray sweatshirt, her eyes continually anchored to the floorboards, avoiding my gaze like it burned her. Whenever continue reading …

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