The home they sent me to felt like a prison.

The rehabilitation home I was sent to after the “rescue” was worse than a prison. Timetables, locked gates, lectures about shame. I asked when I could leave. They said counselling was not finished.

I am a consensual adult making a living to support my children. I had a room I paid for. I had a school run. None of that counted once someone decided I needed saving.

Taking away the right to work under the guise of rescue is an injustice. If I had been in danger, I would have said so. I said the opposite, again and again, and it was written down as denial.

When I got out, I had to rebuild from nothing. That is the part the raid photographs never show.