I first sensed something was wrong when my sixteen-year-old daughter, Avery, grew unusually quiet. She withdrew into herself, avoiding conversations that once flowed easily. One afternoon, I overheard her whispering to her stepfather, Ryan, that I “couldn’t find out the truth.” When I asked, they brushed it off as talk about a school project, but their forced smiles lingered. The next day, they said they were heading out to buy supplies, yet an uneasy feeling followed them out the door. When Avery’s school later called about unexplained absences, worry outweighed doubt, and I decided to follow them.
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