Page 54 of Neverland

“This is ridiculous! You can’t enter our home and do this,” Mr. Sanchez barked.

They yelled and pleaded while trying to push their way in front of the intruders. Romeo’s fingers circled my wrist as he stepped in front, protecting me from those who had made it their mission to tear me away from the last people who loved and cared for me.

“She’s not going,” Romeo bellowed, he himself crying. “She’s happy here. She has everything she needs. She doesn’t need to go anywhere.”

“Move to the side, kid,” the officer instructed, trying to force his way around Romeo.

“You haven’t even asked Lucy if she wants to leave. Ask her!”

“Move to the side or I’ll put you in cuffs. Your choice.”

“Wait,” the female interrupted, hands raised in an attempt to placate the situation. “As we just explained to your parents we have no choice in the matter. With one deceased parent and the other incarcerated, it’s by law the child is sent to a legal guardian or next of kin, of which you are neither.”

“Don’t you think she’s had enough?” Romeo’s words were falling on deaf ears.

“Move to the side, kid,” the officer warned again. When Romeo refused, the big burly man snapped into action, his patience non-existent. Twisting Romeo’s arm behind his back, the officer pushed him against the wall, knocking a family photograph smashing to the floor.

“Get off him! Leave him alone,” I screamed, pummeling the officer with my fists. It was years of anger manifesting itself. The entire hall erupted into a ruckus none of us had been expecting. Mr. and Mrs. Sanchez fought to get to their son and me to safety. The two CPS workers took an arm each to pull me toward the front door.

“Get off me,” I screamed, kicking wildly at their legs. “Why are you doing this? Get off.” Their fingers dug deep, the force lifting my feet off the ground. I could feel Mrs. Sanchez clawing frantically at my arm, trying her best to get a grip.

“We’ll be back to gather her things,” the CPS man said, dragging me through the door. I was sobbing so hard I could no longer see their faces, but their distress was heart-wrenching. Mrs. Sanchez was doubled over, her husband holding her while she wept.

“Lucy!” Romeo yelled, rounding the front door, his hands still in cuffs.

“Romeo,” I called back, desperately. “Please help me.” I blinked, my vision clearing, but when I saw him, I wished it hadn’t. Seeing him so broken tore my heart to shreds.

“I’ll find you, Lucy,” he called, voice cracking with emotion. “I promise, I’ll find you.”

~~~

“You’re not going anywhere until you eat your fucking dinner.” His fist smashed onto the dinner table causing the cutlery to rattle. I jumped from fright, although I’d seen it coming.

“Dairy upsets my—”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what it does to you. We don’t waste food in this household, so eat.”

I looked around at the dirty faces staring at me, waiting to see my next move. They were smart. They knew to shut up and eat and move around the house as inconspicuously as possible. Heaven forbid they make a sound and be faced with the wrath of Uncle Brian who always seemed ready for a fight.

I never saw the Sanchezes again. After CPS stole me away that night and flew me four hours away, I’d been denied any privilege of contacting them. Apparently, it was ‘for the best.’ I don’t think the CPS workers really cared what was best for me because if they did, they wouldn’t have dropped me at Uncle Brian’s house, the brother of my father. They were so much alike, it was as if history were laughing at me while it repeated itself. The similarities were uncanny. They both drank like a fish, both used their fists as their way of communicating, and both believed instilling fear was the best way to run your family.

And to make it worse, it was obvious he held me responsible for what had happened. Like I was the one who told Dad to bludgeon my mother to death. And as the cherry on top, his resentment of being ‘next of kin,’ revealed itself in how he treated me. I was the leper in the family. The burden. The only benefit to him was that the state was giving him some sort of allowance for a certain period of time until I became adjusted.

And I only knew this because when CPS delivered me, Uncle Brian was sure to ask when his first payment would be made.

Uncle Brian and Aunty Meryl had five-year-old triplets, Jillian, Jaden, and Jessica. They, including Aunty Meryl, were already broken-spirited, unclean, and uneducated. They merely existed in the same terrifying world I’d lived in… and now live in again.

A brutal backhanded slap had me sliding to the edge of my chair. “I said, eat your fucking dinner!” Uncle Brian barked again. I tentatively touched my flaming cheek, feeling the burn of humiliation.

With wide-eyed stares watching closely, I picked up my fork and ate the chicken with congealed cream sauce, knowing full well I’d be clutching my stomach in pain in just a few hours’ time. I ate in silence, my tears going mostly unnoticed. The triplets saw, their own eyes starting to glisten. When you’d been through similar struggles it was easy to understand each other, even at such a young age.

With our plates all but licked clean, we waited, hands in laps, eyes careful not to look around. Only when Uncle Brian drained half a glass of beer and delivered a hearty belch were we finally instructed to leave the table.

“Clean this fucking shit up and go to bed.”

The four of us moved at lightning speed, chair legs scraping the floor.

I was almost finished the dishes when Jessica tapped my elbow. Looking down, I saw her sweet face that needed a good scrub. “Here,” she said in a mousy voice. She held up a cube of ice in her just as dirty fingers.

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