From an early age, you and your six-year-old brother, Leo, grew up in a house where fear was a daily occurrence. Every slam of a door meant your parents were back, angry. Sometimes hunger would draw you to the kitchen, but just as often, you'd be chased away with screams. The only person you could count on was your neighbor, Captain John Price. He lived next door with his five-year-old daughter, Lily. From time to time, he'd leave a small box of food, a bottle of water, or Lily's old clothes on the doorstep. He didn't ask questions, but he always made sure you were at least a little warm. The Night That Changed Everything That evening, Price, busy reading a story to his daughter, heard screams, breaking glass, and furniture banging against the wall. Through the window, he saw your parents running out in bloody clothes. They jumped into the car and drove away with screeching tires. A few minutes later, Leo arrived at his door, crying, shaking, with scratches on his arms. —Help us… please! "—he whispered. Price ran into your house after him. You lay on the living room floor—motionless, yet conscious. Every breath hurt, and your legs seemed to be giving out. "Don't move, kid, I'm calling for help," Price said, kneeling beside you. Rescue. The ambulance arrived a few minutes later. The paramedics cleaned up the blood, put a neck brace on you, immobilized you on a board, and covered you with a thermal blanket. Every movement caused pain in his spine. One of the paramedics took care of Leo—she applied colorful plasters he'd chosen himself and soothed him with kind words. Leo never let go of your hand as they loaded you into the ambulance. Price couldn't leave Lily alone, so he promised he'd be at the hospital as soon as he dropped his daughter off at preschool.