Natalie Kitroeff

I didn't want her to see that I was upset, but she was a light.

I mean, she was a light that

There's something that's complicated, I can imagine, about this being a moment when in some ways you're seeing your child who's never felt happier, who's never looked happier.

And at the same time, you've never felt more scared for her.

Like the thing that makes her so happy is the same thing that might put her in danger.

Absolutely.

Yeah.

And it's the, I think it's the fear of not being able to protect her, which is honestly like, that fear has never abated.

How do you protect her?

How do you keep her safe?

And also, how do you let her live into her joy without scaring her, you know?

Over the next few years, Allie's parents tried to make home a safe place for her.

They encouraged her to open up, to be herself, to share how she was feeling.

At the same time, they noticed she was changing, growing quieter, spending a lot of time in her room alone.

I felt the most disconnected from her than I had ever felt in terms of like what I was talking about earlier, like just wishing I had known her more.

They put her in therapy, tried to be patient, but still she seemed to get more and more distant.

Then she started having issues at school.

Allie had always been a good student, the kind of kid who never really got in trouble.

But starting in junior high, there were a few incidents that began prompting calls to home about what Allie was typing on school computers.

And one of them was a poem.