“Please, arrest me. I’d rather go to jail than go back to that house…”

a shivering, broken, hollowed-out ghost of a boy; he was a vibrant, healthy, loudly laughing, and deeply emotionally secure child. He turned to me, his bright eyes shining with unshed tears of pure, unadulterated joy, and threw his strong, growing arms tightly around my neck, burying his face in my shoulder just like he had on the kitchen floor two continue reading …