Cherish clung to me, whispering, “There’s a room… it was open a little. I saw pictures—of other kids. Lots of kids. And they looked scared, Daddy.”
I froze.
“She had names under the pictures,” she added, trembling. “And… and one of them looked like me.”
I didn’t wait. I scooped her into my arms, stormed back into the kitchen, and told Lumine we had to leave—immediately. Her smile faltered. “Is everything okay?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But my daughter says it’s not.”
She tried to protest, but I didn’t stop. We were gone in seconds.
That night, I called the police. The next day, they raided Lumine’s home.
What they found still haunts me—photos, files, and a digital archive of children she had “studied” for years under the guise of “behavioral research.”
Lesson: Always listen when a child senses danger. Their intuition may be the only warning you get before it’s too late.
