I was distraught when, at the age of seven, my kid vanished from the mall. When I started crying hysterically, a blonde woman approached me to offer consolation. After several hours, my son was located. I recalled the helpful stranger ten years later when I related the event to a friend.
Abruptly, my son became pale and turned to face me. “Dear?” he inquired. It didn’t happen that way, Mom. The person who abducted me was that woman. I was carried to the parking lot and held in their car for a while by her and a male. They argued, I recall. He added, “Her boyfriend changed his mind and let me go, but she came back to divert your attention.”
I was in utter disbelief. In an effort to spare me more suffering, my son had concealed the truth from me for all these years. My whole perception of that day—and the woman I believed had been helpful—was completely destroyed in that instant.