That night Mia ate peacefully for the first time, and the others stayed quiet, whispering behind closed doors.
When Travis came home drunk and angry, he immediately started shouting and throwing things around the room.
“Where is my food,” he yelled, glaring at me.
“She is a child, so do not shout at her like that again,” I said calmly when he scared Mia.
He raised his hand to hit me, but I caught it easily and held it in place.
“Let go,” he demanded, confusion and fear starting to show in his eyes.
I twisted his wrist until he dropped to his knees, then dragged him to the bathroom and forced his face under running water.
“Does it feel cold,” I asked quietly. “That is how she felt when you locked her in here.”
I let him go, and he collapsed, coughing and shaking.
Later that night, I heard them trying to sneak into the room with rope and tape, planning to restrain me and send me back.
I waited until they got close enough, then I moved quickly and decisively.
Within minutes, Travis was tied to the bed, Paige was crying on the floor, and Martha was shaking in the corner.
I took Jenna’s phone and started recording.
“Tell me why you planned this,” I said firmly.