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Bad
Posted by Casey
I live in a room
The door is locked
My mother is on the other side
I have a blanket
It’s okay
I’m okay
Sometimes I sleep
Sometimes my mother brings me food
So I eat
Sometimes I poop in the corner bucket
Mostly I wait
One day, strangers open the door
One is a lady
This is bad, she says
Very bad
Very very bad, the others nod
I look around at my room
My room is okay
Do they mean me?
Am I very very bad?
Police come to my room
Police get bad guys
This is bad, they say
Very, very bad
And then they get me
I never knew I was bad
They don’t take me to jail but almost
There are other kids
The lady screams at us
BE QUIET!
BE STILL!
STOP PULLING ON THE DOOR!
She sits on me
I’LL TEACH YOU. BE STILL!
I bite
The stranger lady comes back
She takes me to a new place
No biting! Be good, okay?
Biting is bad.
Very, very bad.
This house is cold
I don’t know these people, another strange lady and a man
The man is loud and big
I hide from him
Come here, let’s see who they brought!
The lady laughs
Poor thing.
Why does she think I’m poor?
He reaches under the table
I swing my fists and crawl away
He grabs my foot and drags me out
He is laughing, too
Tough little man, we just want to see you.
I kick my other foot and uh oh blood everywhere
He stops laughing
She yells and brings ice for his nose
STAY under there, then!
Ungrateful brat.
The lady comes back, rolling her eyes
At the next house she says
Watch out he kicks and bites.
He’s wild, like an animal.
There is a big boy here
He says he’ll kill me in my sleep
I scream and scream
His mother says
SHUT THE HELL UP!
He hits my head every day
For months
He pinches
And touches
And makes me
NO
He will kill me if don’t
Or if I tell
This is too much
I slam his head into a wall
And kick and kick and kick him when he falls
The stranger lady moves me again
She says
This one’s violent.
Watch him.
I don’t understand any of this
These people are strangers, too
They smile and try to hold my hand
I just want to be safe
Don’t touch me.
I will not be sat on
Or dragged
Or hit
Or touched
Or scared
I will keep them all away with my spiky mean
No one will ever hurt me again
I am bad
I am very, very bad
***
I wrote this one day as I tried to imagine early life through our son’s eyes. He was a wild, screaming child when he and his sister arrived.
He came to us terrified and determined to keep himself safe, a need that still causes him to struggle to interact with others, to sleep and to feel secure.
As he grew more able to articulate his memories, much of his behavior became understandable, even when apparently unreasonable.
Hubby and I work hard to soothe his terror and tame his PTSD.
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Posted in Adoption
Tags: abuse, bad, behavior, Foster Care, foster child, physical abuse, removed, sexual abuse, social services, social worker, violent