A cop, a little girl, and institution. WIP. (tentative 2nd Chapter).
| Continued from "Everything will be okay. You'll see. " [18+]
That night as I was being taken away from our home in Los Angeles and then to El Monte, California seemed like a long one. It also allowed time for the officer to get to know me. He also wanted to prepare me for what was to come.
"You've done nothing wrong, but this place where we're going is just a holding center for you," he said.
Once we got there, I saw the sign in front of the huge building--MacLaren Hall. We entered the front doors together, his hand in mine. The ceiling was high. There was an echo in this brightly lit room. It seemed like a central location, with many doors leading away from it. Everything seemed to shine and there was a chill in the air.
The officer talked to the lady at the inside window, then she told me to remove my clothing and then put the ones she handed me on. I was also told to put the rest of my belongings into the bag. It was explained that they'd keep my things safe, and that I'd get my items back once I left there. It seemed like a fair request, so she lead me to what seemed like a closet but with bars on the front of it."
Behind me, I heard the officer explain, "Don't worry. You'll only be in there a few minutes. It's called a holding cell. Every time someone new comes here, they stay in it for a little while."
I entered and changed my clothes, and waited. While I waited, I wondered what he was doing. Maybe filling out forms. I sat there trying to entertain myself, looked around me and through those bars. There was a scent, clean, foreign, the lights reflected off the floor..
I could hear him but couldn't see him. "I'd like to talk to her for a few minutes before I leave." the officer said. I stood up as they drew near and she opened the cell door.
"That's perfectly fine. Just let me know when you're ready," she replied.
He knelt down to my eye level and said, "I know this must seem kind of scary, but we don't have a place to put you and here you will be safe. Before long you'll be with a nice family and have a nice home. Do you understand?"
"Can I have a hug?"
I rushed to him and put my arms around him. We hugged for several moments and then several more moments, but soon he gently guided me away. "I have to go now."
My face felt hot. I felt shaky. I tried not to whine. "Not yet. Please?"
"Only a few more minutes." He already said what he needed to and I knew he probably had other things to do. I almost felt guilty. I also didn't know what to say and so we stayed there, frozen in the moment.
"I'm sorry. I have other duties. I wish I could stay here longer and hang out with you, but I can't.
"You're going to be okay. Promise me that you'll hang in there. Can you do that for me?"
"Will you come back and see me?" I asked. I looked at his face, but his eyes is what held me. Something flashed across his features and then it was gone. I was unfamiliar with it and wasn't sure what it meant, but it seemed like he'd made a decision.
Seconds ticked by. "I can't promise. you might not see me. I'll be back to check on you. Before long you'll be in a nice home with some nice people. Just hang in there. I know you can do it." He moved slightly.
My heartbeat felt like it was in my throat. There was nothing I could do. I felt like one of those rabbits stepdad talked about who got caught in his traps and chewed off their own legs to get loose.
I had been concentrating on the designs on the floor. As much as I wanted to look at him, I couldn't. There was no place to hide my feelings. It was inevitable. I looked at him through the fringe of my eyelashes. Unwilling tears sprang to my eyes.. They fell silently down my cheeks, making it impossible for me to see, except for the blur of this man and his uniform. I stood there like a soldier. until the trembling started.
He made a slight sound--like one you'd make during a struggle of your own. He held me again in an even tighter squeeze. "Everything is going to be okay.You'll see."
And within seconds, he turned and practically ran out the door, his shoes squeaked against the floor, his police apparatus making clinking sounds as he went.
(There is a whole section about my experience there. What happened afterward is significant. I want to get this one part written first. And so this page will be rearranged as it is filled in)
5th Grade :
. I was in grade school, 5th grade when someone approached me on the school playground. I just stared, mostly because i recognized the person who was with her. I wondered if he felt bad for what he'd done.
"It's me I'm your mother. Don't you recognize your own mother?" she said.
She came over and hugged me and I hugged her back. Her familiar scent wafted by me. Something about it sickened me. My stepdad came forward, pulled me to t him and kissed me. His tongue slid against my lip. I was stunned.
Those ugly struggling moments of long ago flooded my mind. I thought of running away, but my mother would be left wondering what happened. I didn't want to make things worse. The bell rang. I turned my head and wiped my mouth, then returned to her and hugged her once more then ran back to the classroom area.
I don't remember what was said or if we went anywhere. I just didn't like being there.
I thought I heard his voice behind me say, "Where's my hug?"
That day when I went home I told my foster mother that they showed up. I don't remember if she was surprised, but I didn't care either way.
I never mentioned the kiss. I was too embarrassed, and knew i'd have to explain too much. I I had gotten my answer by that action. He thought he'd pick up where he left off. Obviously, he had an appreciation for young girls, especially those that haven't matured yet. He was wrong if he thought I'd ever go back and be his willing victim.
It's surprising what you will tolerate for the sake of love. I knew myself well enough to know I'd do something unthinkable, if it was to protect those I love. In this case, even the love of my mother wasn't enough for me to take that chance.. I instinctively knew that I could end up living off the streets, turn into a streetwalker, alcoholic, or a drug addict, and I would die a little each day or wish I had.
Later the county social worker asked me, "Would you like to go home and live with your mother?"
I looked at her, and tried not to think that she was either inept and didn't look at the records or was just ignorant. "Do I have to?"
"No, but I had to ask."
"Is he there?"
"Who is he?"
"I don't know. He might be."
"I don't want to go home, not if he's with her.No. I don't want to."
"Okay. That's all I want to know."
And so years went by and it wasn't until I was grown that I actually saw her again, and thankfully he wasn't with her for some reason, but he was still part of her life, and would be until his death.