Adopted by Madison • Madison Beer + J&J

10

Finally, we get home. My mind is in millions of places and I can't focus clearly on one thing.

I walk around the side of the car to get Dakota, she seems uneasy about everything. I unbuckle her seatbelt with my trembling hands and reach for her tiny body. My hands wrap around her torso and lift up slowly. Just now I realize her long, dark brown hair is greasy and cut at an awkward angle.

"Momma it hurts," Dakota whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut.

"I know, baby, I'm sorry," I respond, trying to get her inside the house as quickly as possible.

"What about the groceries?" She asks as I unlock the front door.

"I'll get those later."

I guide her to the couch, and gently set her in a sitting position.

"I'm hungry," Dakota whispers.

"Okay." I watch her with every step I take to the kitchen, and grab an applesauce from the very back of the cupboard.

I feel for my phone in my back pocket, this has to be one of the last times I call 911. I grab a small spoon and go back into the living room with Dakota.

"Here you go," I say, popping open the small container and handing it over. She eats slowly, her hand balancing the plastic spoon between her fingers.

My hands type in the three little numbers, and I press my phone to my ear, listening to the first few rings.

"Momma, no!" Dakota suddenly shouts, jumping up and ripping the phone from my ear to hang up.

"Dakota-"

"Mommy, I'm going to get hurt if you tell people I'm with you," her anxious eyes stare up into mine.

"Why? Who was hurting you?" I ask, my tone changing a little as I feel my anger forming.

Dakota shakes her head. "I can't..."

"Those people can't hurt you anymore, as long as you're with me."

"No mommy, it doesn't work that way."

I'm so confused. What could she be talking about?

"I'm calling Grammy," I say.

Dakota nods and stares forward, eating her applesauce.

I walk to the kitchen as the phone rings and rings.

"Hey, hun," mom says as she picks up.

"Mom, get over here now," I demand.

"Honey, I'm at work I can't just leave."

"Mom, Dakota showed up in my car when I was at the grocery store and she's all bruised up. I-I don't know what to do," I ramble, tears forming in my eyes.

"Oh shit. I'll be right over," she responds, hanging up immediately.

I collect myself and go back to Dakota.

"You okay, baby?" I ask, plopping down next to her on the couch.

She shrugs, "I feel better now that I'm with you, but I don't feel good."

"I'm sorry, baby," I say, reaching up to smooth my thumb over her cheek.

She's so precious, I don't know how I lived without Dakota.

"Can I take a bath?" She asks.

"Of course, lets do that now so we can be ready for Grammy Trace."

The two of us get up and go to the bathroom down the hall from the living room.

As soon as Dakota steps into the bath the water turns brown with filth. This bath will take a while.

My phone buzzes, signaling a call coming in. I ignore it, focusing on the gentle strokes put on Dakota's fragile scalp and body.

"Mommy answer it," she says.

"It's okay, I'll call back," I respond.

"Momma," she instructs, looking at me seriously.

I stare at her for a second, then set the washcloth on the side of the tub and reach for my phone in the back pocket of my pants.

I'm already too late to answer the call, but the screen reads: miscall from jack.