09/11/2025
I got a call from the school nurse about my son. I hurried over. He was trembling, with a mark near his eye. “Dad, I went home for lunch… mom was with Uncle Steve. When I tried to leave, he blocked me, shut me in my room, and I escaped through the window. They’re still there.” My protective instincts immediately took over. The nurse's voice on the phone was too steady. It was a practiced, professional calm that was more chilling than any panic. "Mr. Jensen," she said, "your son, Leo, is here in the school office. He needs you now." I drove to the school and found him huddled in a chair, his small eight-year-old frame shaking, one eye already beginning to swell into a grotesque shade of purple. I knelt in front of him, my voice level. "What happened, Leo?" 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. My wife. My brother. Together. The betrayal should have shattered me. Instead, it sharpened every sense, focusing my entire being into a single, cold point of purpose. He had touched my son. That was his first mistake. His second was assuming I was still the mild-mannered software salesman I pretended to be...👉 READ MORE IN C0MMENTS 👇👇
