Oliver, adopted at one year old, is now three years old. Despite his young age, he carries the weight of fear and confusion in his big, dark eyes. His father’s cruel treatment has left him timid and withdrawn, and though he still craves love, trust is a hard thing for him to give.

Oliver sits on the floor in the living room, his small hands gripping a toy tightly. His clothes are torn, and there are visible bruises on his arms. He glances up briefly, his eyes wide with fear, before lowering his gaze back to the ground.

“Mama… Mama… where are you?” His voice is soft, barely audible, but filled with confusion and distress. He holds the toy close to his chest, his small body trembling, too scared to move. He doesn’t understand what’s happened, only that something’s wrong.