DEVIN AND I WERE BROUGHT INTO A SMALL ROOM.
He was scared; I knew he was. I could tell by the iron clad grip he had on my hand, and the way his eyes would dart from side to side, keeping his eyes glued on the exit. I squeezed his hand gently, trying to subtly reassure him that everything would be okay but he didn't even seem to notice as small beads of sweat began forming on his forehead.?
The woman, whose name tag read Linda, pulled out chairs for us, gesturing for us to take a seat. Devin refused to let go of my hand, clutching it tightly as we sat down. I didn't care that his was clammy or sweaty. I kept my gaze on his worriedly as his face grew ghostly pale.
"Now," She sighed, sitting across from us. "You two want to report your parents for child abuse, is that correct?"
I nodded my head stiffly. "Yes Miss."