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I don’t often cry. Its not who I am. But I held back tears as I watched Child C break the other day. I watched what was once a naive little lost girl lashing out and angry. Shouting “Fam” this and “Fam” that. Darkness in her eyes. I held back tears as she was led away, knowing that she will be passed around somewhere else now. And it’s not her fault. Its our fault. The adults. The professionals.
By Kendra HousemanI don’t often cry. Its not who I am. But I held back tears as I watched Child C break the other day. I watched what was once a naive little lost girl lashing out and angry. Shouting “Fam” this and “Fam” that. Darkness in her eyes. I held back tears as she was led away, knowing that she will be passed around somewhere else now. And it’s not her fault. Its our fault. The adults. The professionals.