Why Don't Kids Report Abuse?

When I was fourteen, I called animal control on my dad.

My mom helped me find the number. I sat in our dining room and explained that my dad had run over the cat.

“When did this happen?”

“Three years ago.”

She had not been taken to the vet, and sustained a limp. My stepmother sometimes kicked her out of the walkway.

“Your dad ran over the cat… three years ago?”

I had said something wrong. “Yes?”

“There’s nothing I can do about that.”

I hung up feeling stupid as fuck.

My family was fine.