Seeing bruises on my daughter all week, I walked into her room and found her shaking. “If I tell you, they’ll hurt you real bad,” she cried. “Tell me everything,” I begged. As she exposed the horrific weekend beatings and dark closet punishments by my in-laws, my heart shattered into ice. I stood up, locked the door, and whispered…

apart. Children possess vivid imaginations, and I forgive you for the stories you invented that put me in this cage. The women here are violent. I live in fear. I hope one day you find the moral courage to recant your statements so your Aunt can come home. We still love you. Love always, Aunt Kristen.

It was a masterclass in psychological manipulation.continue reading …