While grocery shopping, a little girl named Lia climbed into my cart, saying she couldn’t find her mom. After 20 minutes with no sign of her, I considered calling the police. Then Lia pleaded, “Please, don’t take me back. I’m scared.”
Although she didn’t explain, her fear was clear. I wanted to protect her, but my sister convinced me to call social services instead. Later, a detective friend revealed Lia had run away before, but investigations never found issues at home. I couldn’t ignore my instincts and decided to check on her myself.
At Lia’s house, the neat exterior didn’t match my unease. Social workers arrived but left without Lia. When I confronted the mother, she claimed Lia was “just going through a phase,” but muffled cries inside told a different story. Alarmed, I called my detective friend.
He arrived with police backup, and they found Lia inside, terrified. This time, her cries were taken seriously. Lia was placed in foster care, and I vowed to help her find the loving home she deserves.
