“Being ‘bad’ in that house didn’t require much.” He shakes his head and scoffs. “If he was in a mood, anything could set him off. I was locked in the closet for two days once because I dropped a cracker on the floor. He didn’t even give me a chance to grab it before he snatched me up and shoved me in the closet. When that lock clicked, I thought I would die in there.”
“I thought you weren’t scared of anything.” It’s a low blow, but I don’t know how to respond to this vulnerable side of Timofey. I don’t want to fall for another trick.
“I’m not now. I was then.”
His words are heartbreakingly haunted. My job as a CPS agent is to protect children. It’s to give them the best shot at a childhood, at a safe, healthy life. But we don’t always get it right. The system has cracks, and sometimes,
