His lips trembled. The words spilled out in jagged, broken pieces. “Dad… I went home for lunch. Mom was with… with Uncle Steve. I tried to leave. He… he slammed my face into the door. Locked me in my room. I jumped from the window. They’re still there.”

The air in the small, quiet office thickened. My pulse, contrary to what you might expect, slowed. Military training doesn’t make you fearless; it makes you deliberate.