He looked toward his teacher before whispering:
“Grandpa takes me into the back room every afternoon.”
“What happens in there?”
“He closes the door. Then he ties my hands so I can’t move them.”
My stomach twisted.
“Does he hurt you?”
The continuation of this incredible story is in the first comment. 
Oliver lowered his head.
“Sometimes I cry. Grandpa cries too.”
The teacher covered her mouth.
I felt cold all over.
“Why does he do that?”
Oliver shook his head.
“He says I have to be brave. And that you’ll be really upset if you find out.”
I could barely recognize my own voice.
“How long has this been happening?”
“Since before my birthday.”
His birthday had been almost three months earlier.
Three months.
My father had been doing something behind my back for three months.
Mrs. Anderson had already contacted the police after hearing Oliver’s account.
