My Daughter Came Home from School in Tears Every Day – So I Put a Recorder in Her Backpack, and What I Heard Made My Blood Run Cold

I’m just tired.”

I tucked her hair behind her ear. “You used to love school.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I just don’t anymore.”

At first, I thought maybe she’d gotten a bad grade or had a fight with her friends.

But she refused to talk.

When I picked her up that afternoon, she didn’t run into my arms like she usually did. She strolled, head down, clutching her backpack like it was the only thing holding her together. Her pink sweater had a thick black line across the front, like someone had drawn on it with a marker.

Her drawings, the ones she used to show me proudly every afternoon, were crumpled at the bottom corners.

That night at dinner, she barely touched her food. She just pushed peas around her plate quietly.

“Lily,” I said carefully, “you know you can tell me anything, right?”

She nodded without looking up. “Uh-huh.”

“Is someone being mean to you?”

“No,” she said again, but this time her voice cracked.

She still didn’t answer me and ran to her room. I wanted to believe her. I really did.

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