She didn’t tell a teacher. She didn’t tell a parent. She told the camera.
She recorded the bruises. She whispered the threats. She documented the silence.
She encrypted her testimony in a Google Doc, shared it with no one, titled it “If I disappear.”
In February 2022, a 13-year-old girl in Ohio used her school-issued Chromebook to document her own abuse. She created a folder labeled “Evidence.” Inside: screenshots, timestamps, voice memos, and a map of her house with danger zones marked in red.
She used TikTok drafts to record her face after each incident. She never posted them. She saved them as ritual proof.
She used emojis to encode her fear. 🔒 meant “he’s home.” 🧊 meant “hide.” 🕯️ meant “I survived.”
When child services finally intervened, they found the folder. It was more detailed than their intake forms. More precise than their case notes. More honest than their reports.
She had archived herself.
This dispatch is not a cry for help. It is a coded refusal.
This dispatch is not a case file. It is encrypted breath.