I was wrong.

Sometimes danger wears a tailored suit, and serves you a home-cooked meal, and asks kindly about your workday, and raises a toast at your wedding, promising to love you like family.

And sometimes the most devastating betrayal comes not from the one who enjoys the cruelty, but from the one who knows exactly what is happening, has the power to stop it, and looks away because doing right would cost them their comfort.

I survived all of it for one reason, and it is the only piece of wisdom I have to offer anyone: I stopped, at last, ignoring the quiet voice inside me that had been warning, for four months, that something was deeply wrong.