Today, Lila was the only child in a courtroom full of adults, declaring in a custody discussion that had taken a dark and bitter turn.
Her mother, seated to one side with a sharp-eyed lawyer, looked both weak and angry, clutching a tissue.
Across the room, Lila’s father stared absently, visibly shaking.
But none of that mattered to Lila.
She was looking at the dog sitting loyally in the aisle just outside the wooden barrier of the courtroom.
His name was Charlie, a golden retriever with soft, wise eyes and a red vest that said Service Dog, Do Not Pet.
Lila had only connected to three people in the last two years.
The bruises healed. But something inside her voice didn’t. No therapist could break through.
No medication helped. Only Charlie could. The court had allowed the dog to go with her because, as her psychologist had shared, Charlie wasn’t just a normal animal, he was a bridge.
A bridge to the world that Lila no longer trusted. Judge Holloway, a stern woman in her 60s with a history of ruling by the book, looked down at the girl, Lila, she said gently.
I need to ask you a question. You don’t have to answer with words if you’re not ready. You can nod, or shake your head.
Okay. Lila didn’t move. Her fingers anchored around the stuffed animal.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page. Tap READ MORE to discover the rest 🔎👇
