Death of My Only Friend: Part One, Opportunity Missed

“Hi Mary. My name’s Amber.” The tall lady said. She wore jeans and a light blue sweater.

—-I remember her so clearly now. The mistakes I made. Maybe my life could be different.—-

“Hi.” I replied.

“Do you know who I am?”

I shook my head ‘no.’ All I knew was that I had been taken from home and brought to live with strangers and that they took Danny away from me.

“I’m a DHS representative. Do you know what that is?”

I again shook my head ‘no.’

—-I was fucking five years old. How the hell was I supposed to know? It still amazes me what stupid questions they asked me.—-

“We heard that you were having some problems at home. I’m here to talk about this with you and see if there are problems and to get you back with your mom and dad. Okay?”

I nodded ‘okay’ and fidgeted in my seat.

“Do you like living with your mom and dad?”

I nodded my head.

—-Things weren’t okay at home, but I was too afraid that I would never see Danny again. One of the girls in my foster home told me that if I was taken away from my family, I would never see any of them again. I couldn’t let that happen. I had Danny. I had to stay with Danny.—-

“Does your mom or dad ever hit you?”

“Only when I’m bad.”

“What do you do that’s bad?”

I hung my head in shame.

—-It was the beginning of an inferiority complex that would last a lifetime.—-

“Lots of stuff.”

“Like what?”

“One time Danny and I were playing ball in the house and we broke a vase.”

“What does your dad use when he punishes you?”

“His hand.”

—-If only she had asked what he used on my brother. He got the belt, the fist, the switch, an extension cord, a vase, anything dad could lift.—-

“I see. Are there any other times when you get punished?”

“Once we were playing hide and seek and I hid in dad’s closet.”

“Are you allowed in your parents room?”

“No. Only Georgia.”

—-She had a major case of electra complex. It would prove nearly fatal as my life went on.—-

“When is Georgia allowed in you parents’ bedroom?”

“To get stuff.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, does your dad ever hit Danny?”



“When he’s bad.”

—-She had started to get frustrated with me. She knew beatings were going on in my house, but without testimony and evidence, she had no case. If only I had been smarter. I was so afraid of losing Danny that I never told her that he beat Danny until he passed out or that he used to lock us in closets until we started pounding on the door crying and pleading for him to let us out and we were starved.

If only I had been smart enough to know what was going on. Maybe Danny would still be alive.