I still remember the day Alicia came to us. My parents, who I had always remembered as loving and kind people, explained to me that they were bringing Alicia to us because it would be useful for us financially. They assured me that nothing would change.

And when she was standing in front of me, I could see how broken she was. I was 12, she was 7. Together with the social worker, she stood in our doorway, her gaze downcast, and I could tell that she was not doing well. While my parents were talking to the social worker, I approached Alicia. I smiled at her and welcomed her to our family. She raised her eyes and looked at me. She tried to smile, but I could see that it was difficult for her. I invited her to follow me. I assumed that we would share a room. After all, I had a double bed without a sibling.

I offered to follow her up to my room. At the same time, I overheard a sentence from the social worker. She told my parents that Alicia's mother died young and that her father left her shortly after. Alicia did not respond to my offer at first. When I offered again, she nodded slightly. I smiled again and took her up to my room. Once there, I showed her, among other things, my Lego knight's castle, my Star Wars posters and my PlayStation 5. I asked her if she wanted to play with me. She slowly began to smile and nodded.

We played on the PlayStation for a while until the social worker knocked on the door after about 20 minutes. She instructed Alicia to be friendly and to behave while she was there and that she would leave now. I could already see my parents behind her. Alicia nodded at her with a smile and after they had said goodbye and the social worker had left, a side of my parents that I had never seen before came out for the very first time.

My mother stormed into my room and asked:

"What on earth are you doing, Jonathan?"

I was confused and asked, "What do you mean? I just wanted to show Alicia the room and make friends with her."

"Oh no! You're not going to make friends with a street kid! This little brat is only here because we get paid good money for it. And she's not going to sleep in your loft bed and contaminate your good sheets."

I was shocked. I had never seen my mother like this. "But Mom, where else is she supposed to sleep? I have an empty bed here," I replied.

But Mom wouldn't hear of it. She shouted at Alicia to leave my room immediately. I was horrified and begged her to stop. Alicia started crying and ran out of the room. Over the next few weeks, Alicia was supposed to sleep on the couch. My parents expected her to recognize her place in the pecking order. She was nothing more than a domestic and financial help to my parents. She was not allowed to go to school and was harshly punished for minor mistakes. When my parents weren't beating or shouting at her, she was locked in a closet. She was only allowed to eat once a day, which made her malnourished and very thin. I often tried to secretly give her some of my food. I told my parents that I would like to eat in my room, but instead of going to my room, I snuck to the closet with my food, unlocked the door and gave Alicia my portion.

I often tried to convince my parents to send her to school with me, but they refused, and I took on many of the chores Alicia failed to do to keep her out of trouble. And especially at night when she had terrible nightmares, she would secretly come to my room and I would comfort her. On my birthday, I asked my parents to buy gifts that Alicia liked and claimed they were for me. And then I gave Alicia so she would have something to play with. I felt like a big brother who had to be there for his little sister. I didn't understand why my parents treated her so badly and I felt terrible. I had hoped that they would improve their behavior over time, but it only got worse and the punishments more intense. At a certain point, I had enough and decided to intervene.

With a small camera, which I also got for my birthday, I started to secretly take pictures of everything. Of all the abuse, of bruises on Alicia's skin, etc. I sent these hints anonymously to the police and asked them to help. I didn't tell Alicia what I was planning to do. She was a very sweet and intelligent person for her age and would probably have stopped me because she knew that I would lose my parents as a result. The fact that Alicia's face was visible in the pictures where the marks were visible came as a surprise, which I admit I hadn't reckoned with myself. On the day the police knocked on our door, Alicia was just back in the closet. My mother opened the door and was immediately overpowered by the police officers. She and my father were arrested for child abuse. And to my surprise, the police officers did not come alone. Alicia's father was there too. It turns out that he never wanted to leave her. He lost custody when he was no longer able to financially support Alicia, and she was placed in the foster system.

But after his business took off, he had only goal of finding her and taking her back. And when I sent the pictures of Alicia to the police, her father recognized her immediately. The officers took my parents away and released Alicia from the closet. It was hard to see my parents like that, and even though I did the right thing, I felt terrible for putting it off for so long. I tried to be strong but it was hard. Alicia asked a police officer what would happen to me now. The police officer led her and her father out of the house and explained that I would now be placed in the foster care system because both of my parents had been arrested. Alicia looked back at me one more time. I started to cry, but tried not to let it show. I put on the best smile I could as she looked at me and waved goodbye to her one last time.