They came into my life carrying invisible scars and more than a dozen cavities—evidence of neglect, abuse, and a childhood no one should endure. My brother and sister, only 13, had seen too much. That first night, I tucked them into bed, fighting back tears as I said, “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”
It was overwhelming. One moment, I was just managing life with a puppy—and the next, I was a stand-in parent to two traumatized teenagers I had only recently reunited with. Ready or not, I became their protector, their provider, and their home.
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