Page 69 of Freestyle
Incident Reported On:July 10, 2015
Prepared By:Linda Robinson, Child Protective Services
Sexual Abuse Statement
Summary of Incident:On July 10, 2025, Child Protective Services received a report alleging sexual abuse involving Rowyn Marie Caddel, age 9. The alleged perpetrator, identified as Alberto Mitchell, age 13, has been admitted to a secure pediatric psychiatric facility following the initial investigation.
Observations and Initial Findings:Rowyn currently exhibits symptoms consistent with trauma, including heightened anxiety and physical sensitivity. During interviews and routine assessments, she demonstrated visible distress when approached, particularly when contact was made near her neck. Care has been taken to ensure her physical boundaries are respected at all times.
Medical Observations:Upon intake, a medical examination was conducted at St. Andrew’s Hospital by a board-certified pediatrician specializing in forensic evaluations. The examination noted the presence of dried blood in the pubic region and faint bruising along the sides and front of the neck. The location and pattern of bruising were consistent with the application of external force. No other acute physical injuries were documented at that time; however, findings were consistent with the child’s disclosure and warranted further investigation. Medical staff ensured the exam was conducted in a trauma-informed manner, with a trained advocate present to support the child throughout.
Rowyn was hesitant to speak openly about her experiences. When prompted gently with non-leading questions, Rowyn disclosed information suggesting continuous inappropriate contact by a member of the foster family, Alberto Mitchell. Her statements were consistent, though delivered with visible discomfort and periods of silence. A forensic interview has been scheduled to allow for a trauma-informed evaluation in a safe setting.
Following immediate protective protocols, Rowyn was removed from her previous residence and placed into a licensed foster care placement on July 12, 2015. The foster caregivers have received trauma-informed care training and have reported that Rowyn remains quiet, occasionally withdrawn, but is gradually responding to consistent, gentle support. She has been referred for specialized counseling services with a child trauma therapist to begin processing her experiences in a safe and structured environment.
Conclusion:Based on the physical findings, behavioral indicators, and verbal disclosures provided by Rowyn Marie Caddel, immediate and sustained protective measures have been deemed necessary. The child remains in a safe, trauma-informed foster care placement, and her care team is coordinating ongoing medical, psychological, and legal support.
Child Protective Services will continue to monitor Rowyn’s well-being closely, in collaboration with her therapist, foster caregivers, and law enforcement. All findings and recommendations have been documented and forwarded to the appropriate judicial and clinical entities for further action.
The primary objective moving forward is to ensure Rowyn’s safety, emotional recovery, and long-term stability.
“That mother fucker!” I yell, the words tearing out of my throat like claws. My fist slams into the drywall before I can stop it, bone meeting plaster, white dust clouding the air like smoke after a detonation. My knuckles sting, but it’s nothing. Nothing compared to the way my chest is burning.
Nix doesn’t say a word. He’s pacing like a caged animal, jaw clenched so hard I can hear his teeth grind. He doesn’t look at me, he doesn’t have to. We’re on the same frequency now; rage, guilt and something else we don’t have a name for.
“She was just a kid,” I mutter, voice low and shaky. “And we—” I bite off the rest before it swallows me whole. We made her life harder without ever knowing how hard it already was.
The image won’t leave me. Rowyn, tiny, scared, hands flinching away from someone who should’ve protected her. From anyone. Now I get it. The way she tenses when someone gets too close. The way she never lets her guard down, not even for a second.
Nix stops pacing. His hands are curled into fists at his sides, eyes wild and glassy. “No one touches her like that. Ever again. Unless it’s us.”
It’s not fury. It’s possession, yeah, but not the toxic kind we used to wear like armor. It’s something deeper now, protective, primal, personal.
Rowyn’s not just a girl we bullied anymore. She’s ours, and God help the next person who tries to hurt her, because I swear I won’t stop at drywall.
Fourteen
Rowyn
It’sbeendayssinceI heard from either of them, Gray or Nix. No texts. No blackmailing as I pass through the quad. No carefully timed insults wrapped in silk and sandpaper. Just...nothing.
I hate that I miss it. The tension, the way Gray’s eyes would track me like I was something worth watching, even if it was with a wicked smile on his face. The way Nix always had something cruel-but-clever to say, just loud enough for me to hear. It twisted me up inside. Still does.
Part of me exhales. Maybe they finally got bored, and moved on to someone else to corner and toy with. But thenthere’s the other part, the one that won’t stop bracing for the next hit because silence fromanyonenever means peace. It means buildup. Storm clouds on the edge of the horizon pretending to be sky.
Have they really let me go? Or are they just changing tactics?
Now that they’re gone, it’s like part of my day fell silent. Empty in a way it shouldn’t be. Shouldn’t want to be filled with that noise. That heat. That edge.
What kind of person misses the people who made her feel caged? What kind of girl wishes they’d look at her again, even if it could ultimately get you burned?
Maybe the kind who’s only ever been wanted for what she could give, never truly seen for who she is.
Frank let me have my job back. I pleaded, promised, practically begged, and he agreed, with one condition; if either of them so much as looks at the threshold while I’m behind that bar, they’re done. My shift, my sanctuary. Finally, a little corner of the world that’s mine. No Gray, no Nix, no games.
I should feel safe now.I should, but my skin still prickles. The fourth time the bell chimes, I don’t even look up. It’s muscle memory by now; check the door, scan the crowd, keep breathing. Most nights it’s nothing. A regular, a stranger, a buzzed couple looking for cheap drinks and colder air.
But tonight, I feel it before I see it. That shift. Like someone turned down the temperature without touching the thermostat. The quiet hum in the back of my head, rising to a scream no one else can hear.
