As I sat at the dining table, staring blankly at the files sprawled in front of me, my mind struggled to comprehend the situation unfolding with my daughter, Sophie. The clinical environment of my job as a police officer often desensitizes one to the horrors of the outside world. Yet, nothing prepared me for the shock of discovering such harsh realities within my own family.
Sophie was now asleep in her room, the gentle rise and fall of her small body a temporary balm to my racing thoughts. The marks on her back were more than physical scars to me; they were a testament to the emotional turmoil and the loss of innocence she was being subjected to under Nathan’s so-called ‘training.’
My mind began to navigate through the procedural steps, a methodical approach ingrained in me after years on the force. I knew my next steps legally, but emotionally, I found myself grappling with a storm of emotions. How could Laura not see what was happening? Had our differences in parenting philosophies blinded her to the reality of her husband’s actions?
