When I finally left, part of me knew how ugly and wrong that place was. I had seen too many things. I was also unable to fully cut ties. I never spoke up against Doc. I even went back there a decade or so ago. I smiled and was friendly, and swallowed bile, because I wanted so badly to see the animals, and his children. I had run away, saved myself, and left them all to fend for themselves. I knew it was a horrible, damaging, dangerous place, but I also missed it terribly. My memories of that time are full of intense cognitive dissonance.