I was a Mistake

Questions

I was told Mr. and Mrs. Winters had taken the position of my foster parents. They told me that meant I would be living with them for the time being and they would take care of me. I couldn't imagine feeling happier to hear that I could stay with the Winters family, if only for a limited time, without having to have any permission from my momma.

Around nine in the morning, I was taken to an X-ray to see if there was evidence of broken bones, just to be safe. The X-ray showed that the ribs I had broken when I was younger had not healed properly due to improper care and could be the cause of pain in the future. Another potential problem was a bruised ankle I could have received from falling during my trek to the Winters while delirious with pain. However, both would not be long-term problems and could be healed with time.

The Winters spent the rest of the morning telling me how the interview would go. They warned me that the police officer would ask hard questions that might make me upset. I was told they wouldn't force me to talk, but I at least needed to use a notepad to write some answers. I worried I wouldn't be strong enough to answer.

Two men came into the room around lunchtime. One man, a tall and muscular police officer, wore a dark blue uniform with an intimidating gun in a holster on his hip. He had a scowl on his round face and he looked tense.

The other man was almost his opposite. He wore a brown suit and wore glasses on his skinny face. His body was small and short and he had a large smile.

Both walked to Mr. and Mrs. Winters and they introduced themselves before talking in a hushed whisper. Mr. and Mrs. Winters brought a chair on either side of the bed, holding on to my hands. The two strangers sat in two chairs at the foot of the bed.

When they turned to me, I had trouble getting a breath to my lungs. I wanted to get out of the bed and run. I didn't want to talk about my momma, I didn't want to hear what they had to say.

Mr. Winters smoothed my hair and whispered that I had nothing to worry about. Mrs. Winters held the back of my hand to her lips, shushing me. The nicer looking man smiled at me. "There nothing to worry about, Eden. I'm Charles and I will be your CPS investigator. This is Jerry and he is in charge of your mother's case. We need to ask some questions so you can get back to healing."

He looked at me kindly. I nodded slowly, trying to calm myself. "Alright, let's get started." He took out a pad of paper and a pen and looked to me. "Eden, does your mother drink?" I nodded my head. He wrote down a note. "Does she get angry when she drinks?" I nodded quickly.

"Very good." He handed me my own notepad and a pen. "If you can't talk to us, I must ask that you write down your answers. These answers will help you get to a safer place, sweetheart. I need you to answer honestly, it's very important. Take your time. We can wait if writing takes a while."

I nodded again. I readied myself for the questions he had to ask. "Eden, when your mother drinks, does she hit you?" I sucked in a breath, trying to keep calm. I wanted to answer. I needed to answer, but I felt as if Momma was in the room with us, staring me down. I was on the verge of hyperventilating, scared of messing up.

"Eden," Mrs. Winters called to me, snapping me out of my panicked state. I looked into her beautiful, blue eyes so much like her youngest son's and I calmed almost instantly. "If you don't tell us, we can't help you. Please, baby, we'll keep you safe. Nobody will hurt you now."

I finally nodded my head yes. He nodded back and wrote another note on his notepad.

"Can you tell us, show us, or write what she does to hurt you, Eden?" His eyes were earnest, kind. I knew he was only trying to help, but still, tears flooded my eyes and spilled onto my blue hospital gown.