Returning early after three months, the millionaire choked back tears, expecting his daughter to run into his arms. Instead, she whispered, “Daddy, you’re back early.” Stepping inside, he saw her shivering in rags, while his wife lived in luxury. He froze, knelt down, and asked softly, “Who did this to you?”

to hammer the grotesque image into a familiar, comforting frame.

Isabella is in the garden. That was a logical fact. She is moving with a sluggish, staggering gait. Children become fatigued; they get stubborn. Her pale dress is smeared with filth. Children play in the mud. The bags she is wrestling with are disproportionately massive. Perhaps she had continue reading …