I was only gone for two hours—just enough time to run errands and grab my sister’s birthday gift. Our sitter, Kelsie, seemed perfect: a quiet college student studying early childhood education, CPR certified, highly recommended. I expected a peaceful afternoon.

But as soon as I walked through the door, something felt wrong. The TV was on, toys were everywhere, but the house was eerily silent. Then I saw Ellie—my four-year-old—locked inside our dog crate, cheeks red from crying. Her twin brother stood beside it, confused.

Kelsie, casually scrolling her phone, told me they were “playing zoo” and brushed it off when Ellie said she didn’t want to play anymore. The crate had been latched shut. I was stunned. When I confronted her, she shrugged: “She needed a time out.”

Trying to stay calm for my kids, I took a photo of Ellie, then told Kelsie to leave. She muttered something about parents being “too soft” on her way out.

That night, I reported her to the agency—who promptly removed her. But I couldn’t shake the feeling something deeper was wrong. The next morning, I called Ellie’s preschool teacher and asked if Ellie had ever mentioned being scared. The teacher paused. And that hesitation said everything.