like she promised she would when I was being torn from her arms.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’ll explain someday.”
We take a corner too fast and something slides and hits my bare foot. I look down. It’s a gun.
Up until now I’ve only seen guns on TV, when Mr. Evans sits me on the couch at night before bed time. He falls asleep first—and I continue to watch TV well into the night. There are shows on there that aren’t made for little girls, I know. They’re scary, but I don’t move because I don’t want him to wake up and yell at me. He always yells at me.
“What’s that for, Mom?” I ask.
“It’s to keep us safe, sweetheart. It’s so that no one can hurt us ever again, or take you away from me,” she explains. That makes sense, I guess.
I don’t know where we are, but I can’t see anything I recognize. I only see fields and grass and we’re still driving fast.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“You need to stop asking questions, sweetheart, okay? Can you do that for me? Mommy has it all figured out, okay.”
“Okay, but—”
“I SAID STOP TALKING!”
I slouch down into my seat and I keep quiet.
I’m in the passenger seat, and this is the first time I’ve been in a car without a booster seat. Am I a grown up now?
We are still driving, and Mom is rocking back and forth in the seat. I look behind us—there are police cars. Lots of them. Probably like four of them, at least.
“Are they here because of us?” I ask.
“Don’t look at them, Lauren. Just don’t look at them. They’re bad,” she replies.
“But I thought policemen were the good people?”
“No, sweetheart. They think that you and me are bad people, and we’re not. We’re not bad people, are we, sweetie? So that makes them bad people. Do you understand?” she explains.
Yes, I do. That makes sense. I stare at them—their lights are flashing, and I cannot look away. They’re driving really fast, too. They’re close to us.
I see buildings now. It’s not just grass anymore. We are taking corners so fast that I get pushed to the side each time the car turns. I hit my head on the window and I cry out.
“It’s okay, sweetheart, we’re almost there,” Mom says. Suddenly, she slams on the brakes. “I need you to run now, okay? You have to run with Mommy, as fast as you can, do you understand?”
I nod.
We are running towards a house that I’ve never seen before. It’s big and it’s old. It has brown siding, and a big white door. Mom is holding my hand and we hurry inside.
She locks the door behind us, and pulls me up the stairs. There’s lots of stairs. We run all the way to the top of the house and into a room. She locks the door there, too.
I look around. The room is lit up with candles. There’s a crib and two beds. There’s stuffed animals and pink sheets on one of the beds. Mom sees me looking at it and tells me that one is mine.
“This is where we’re going to live and be safe, okay? We’re going to be a family. Mommy has a little brother for you in her tummy,” she explains. “He’s going to be here soon, and he’s going to sleep in the crib.”
I look down, and she’s pointing to her stomach. It’s big. I’m excited to have a brother—a real brother, not like the brother I have at the Evans’ house, who is really mean to me all the time, just like everyone else there. He has only been living with us for a couple weeks but he colored on my doll’s face and put her in the microwave.
I look down. There’s colorful foam letters on the floor, and toys. I ask if I can play with the toys, and Mom says yes.
I can hear noises from outside. It sounds like lots of people, and they’re all talking really loud.
“What do they want, Mom?”
“Those are the bad policemen. They want us not to be together, but we’re going to show them that it’s okay if we’re a family.”
I agree. It sounds like a really good plan.
Mom is walking around in the room, back and forth. There are other people
“Oh, sweetheart, I’ll explain someday.”
We take a corner too fast and something slides and hits my bare foot. I look down. It’s a gun.
Up until now I’ve only seen guns on TV, when Mr. Evans sits me on the couch at night before bed time. He falls asleep first—and I continue to watch TV well into the night. There are shows on there that aren’t made for little girls, I know. They’re scary, but I don’t move because I don’t want him to wake up and yell at me. He always yells at me.
“What’s that for, Mom?” I ask.
“It’s to keep us safe, sweetheart. It’s so that no one can hurt us ever again, or take you away from me,” she explains. That makes sense, I guess.
I don’t know where we are, but I can’t see anything I recognize. I only see fields and grass and we’re still driving fast.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“You need to stop asking questions, sweetheart, okay? Can you do that for me? Mommy has it all figured out, okay.”
“Okay, but—”
“I SAID STOP TALKING!”
I slouch down into my seat and I keep quiet.
I’m in the passenger seat, and this is the first time I’ve been in a car without a booster seat. Am I a grown up now?
We are still driving, and Mom is rocking back and forth in the seat. I look behind us—there are police cars. Lots of them. Probably like four of them, at least.
“Are they here because of us?” I ask.
“Don’t look at them, Lauren. Just don’t look at them. They’re bad,” she replies.
“But I thought policemen were the good people?”
“No, sweetheart. They think that you and me are bad people, and we’re not. We’re not bad people, are we, sweetie? So that makes them bad people. Do you understand?” she explains.
Yes, I do. That makes sense. I stare at them—their lights are flashing, and I cannot look away. They’re driving really fast, too. They’re close to us.
I see buildings now. It’s not just grass anymore. We are taking corners so fast that I get pushed to the side each time the car turns. I hit my head on the window and I cry out.
“It’s okay, sweetheart, we’re almost there,” Mom says. Suddenly, she slams on the brakes. “I need you to run now, okay? You have to run with Mommy, as fast as you can, do you understand?”
I nod.
We are running towards a house that I’ve never seen before. It’s big and it’s old. It has brown siding, and a big white door. Mom is holding my hand and we hurry inside.
She locks the door behind us, and pulls me up the stairs. There’s lots of stairs. We run all the way to the top of the house and into a room. She locks the door there, too.
I look around. The room is lit up with candles. There’s a crib and two beds. There’s stuffed animals and pink sheets on one of the beds. Mom sees me looking at it and tells me that one is mine.
“This is where we’re going to live and be safe, okay? We’re going to be a family. Mommy has a little brother for you in her tummy,” she explains. “He’s going to be here soon, and he’s going to sleep in the crib.”
I look down, and she’s pointing to her stomach. It’s big. I’m excited to have a brother—a real brother, not like the brother I have at the Evans’ house, who is really mean to me all the time, just like everyone else there. He has only been living with us for a couple weeks but he colored on my doll’s face and put her in the microwave.
I look down. There’s colorful foam letters on the floor, and toys. I ask if I can play with the toys, and Mom says yes.
I can hear noises from outside. It sounds like lots of people, and they’re all talking really loud.
“What do they want, Mom?”
“Those are the bad policemen. They want us not to be together, but we’re going to show them that it’s okay if we’re a family.”
I agree. It sounds like a really good plan.
Mom is walking around in the room, back and forth. There are other people
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