“Where is she?”
Luke swallowed.
“She was adopted.”
Her name was Emma.
She was nine now.
He made her breakfast. Got her ready for school. Helped with homework.
Luke told me they had entered care together years earlier, when Emma was still little.
“I basically raised her,” he said.
He made her breakfast. Got her ready for school. Helped with homework. When she woke up scared, she went looking for him.
Then a family offered Emma a permanent home.
“They didn’t have room for me,” Luke said.
“I was fourteen. They kept asking what I thought was best for her.”
“Who told you that?”
“Everybody. They said Emma deserved stability.”
I felt anger rising.
“And you agreed?”
“I was fourteen. They kept asking what I thought was best for her.”
After the separation, Luke began sabotaging his placements.
He laughed bitterly.
“So I said yes.”
After the separation, Luke began sabotaging his placements.
