No one believed him. Not when he cried to his parents. Not when he screamed it at the police. They called him a liar. An attention-seeker. A child with too much imagination. So he stopped talking. But the truth didn't disappear - it just grew heavier in his small chest, a weight he carried alone. Years later, when the evidence finally surfaced, they all asked: "Why didn't you tell us?" He just smiled sadly, the boy who had told them a hundred times.