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Noah

Six Years Old

The scrape on my knee bleeds onto the leather of the seat.

Mommy says big girls shouldn’t cry over boo-boos, but it hurts so bad, I can’t sit still.

My Princess Jasmine nightie has a tear at the bottom, and I’m not supposed to go outside in my sleep clothes. Jasmine is my favorite princess, and Mommy brought this back for me after one of her trips with her man friend. The car I’m in moves fast, way faster than the carousel at the park. I close my eyes, wanting the driver to slow down. My tummy doesn’t feel so good, but it helps when I’m not looking out the window. The car stops, and I open my eyes, slowly peeking out the window to see where we are. There is so much brick. The driveway and the big building look like something from one of my storybooks. Only, this time, I don’t want to be here.

I want to go home.

I want my mommy.

Mad.

Mommy seemed so mad when she found me outside. I fell, chasing the kitty, and scraped my knee. I reached for her hand, but she wouldn’t take mine. She wouldn’t even look at me.

I cried.

I yelled.

I just wanted her to hug me, but she wouldn’t.

Mommy put on a pretty dress but didn’t change my clothes, and then we drove in her car. She left me in a room filled with toys and a stranger. She kissed my forehead and told me she had to see the judge.

She never came back.

The man who opens his car door is the same man who sat with me.

Mommy told me people in uniforms are there to help us, but this one scares me. Not because he’s scary. No. He doesn’t look like a monster, and his eyes are kind. He scares me because he’s taking me somewhere strange, and he won’t tell me where.

“I’m sorry I fell and scraped my knee! I’m sorry I went outside in my pajamas! I’m sorry!” I throw myself down on the brick drive and cry into my hands.

Mommy tells me all the time to be a good girl, but there was a kitty outside, and I just wanted to play with it.

Rain pours down from the sky and wets my messy hair. Mommy didn’t brush it when I got up. It’s always tangled in the mornings.

“Come on, Noah. You’ll be okay.”

The man reaches his hand toward me, but I don’t want to get up. I want my mommy.

“I want to go home!”

His arms go around me, and he picks me up. I kick, but he won’t let go. I can’t move my arms as he walks us up to an old building, which is bigger than three of my houses.

“Noah, please hold still. You’re going to hurt yourself,” the man says as he opens the castle-sized door of where he’s brought me. The screech of the old door hurts my ears as he pulls it.

“Will I be home for bedtime? Mommy sings the monsters away.”

Only Mommy can make the dark safe.

“No, Noah. You won’t be going home tonight. You’ll be staying here,” he says.

“But why?” I whine.

Mommy doesn’t like it when I whine, but I don’t wanna stay here. It’s cold and scary.

“Someone here will explain it to you better than I can. Sometimes, Noah, grown-ups make decisions that are hard for kids to understand. Honestly, some decisions people make are hard for other grown-ups to understand.”

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