If I tell you the truth, would you believe me? If you could see past his blond thick curls and his perfect blue eyes, would you finally believe me? What was really hoping for when I told my friends? His mother? The police? Was it recognition? Was it pity? Or was I hoping someone would feel obliged to help me? Now, I know the truth. No one will listen. But still I'll tell my story. Except I won't whisper this time. I won't talk behind closed and locked doors. I want everyone to see him. So that me and my son can be free. So just answer my one question for you. If I tell you the truth, will you believe me?