There’s quite a large age difference between me and my little sister Mia. When I was in high school she was only 3 years old. My parents both worked long shifts at the local hospital so every day when I got out of school around 3:00 p.m. it was my responsibility to pick her up from daycare and take her home. I would then just need to watch over her for a few hours before my parents would get home at around dinner time. I didn’t mind the extra responsibility, after all I knew my parents worked hard to provide for our family and Mia wasn’t difficult to take care of.

The daycare that Mia went to Monday through Friday was ran by a sweet older couple inside of their house. There were probably around ten other kids that went there regularly, all under the age of 4. Every day when I would pick up Mia the older couple would give me an update to pass on to my parents about how she did that day, what kids she played with, and any special projects or art work she worked on. It was clear they really cared about the kids and were passionate about their job.

One average day, I arrived at the daycare at around 3:15 p.m. and walked inside to greet Mia. She was playing with a dollhouse with a few other little girls when I arrived. As soon as she saw me she jumped up and raced to hug me. The older woman who owned the daycare got off a nearby rocking chair and came over to greet me, a big smile on her face. She told me that Mia had a great day and behaved very well as usual. She then handed me Mia’s backpack and a folder containing some pictures she had drawn that day... It was HORRIFYING.

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