Author Topic: Its Almost Tuesday (Caution: Difficult Adult-Abuse-Related Topic)(True Fiction)  (Read 1420 times)

Offline 14thdaymom

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It’s Almost Tuesday               
    © April 2006 J.M.M. all rights reserved
(as published on
(Fictional depiction based on true events, using the child’s exact words when possible.)

“It’s almost Tuesday…”  is what I tell myself; even though it’s only Wednesday; but in foster care, Wednesday is no different from any other day – except for Tuesday.  It’s the only hope I can find because Tuesday is the day I get to see my Mommy. 
Tuesdays are the best … but it seems like a lifetime waiting from Tuesday to Tuesday to get to Visit Day when I can be with My Mommy again…that is if Mom or Dad takes me…

Sometimes they don’t. 
I’m supposed to see MY Mommy for one whole hour, but the caseworker says my Mommy was a bad Mommy, so I think my caseworker runs late on purpose to make Mommy madder… but what did I do wrong?  I’m the one away from home.  The caseworker told me foster care was to punish bad parents, but it really punishes the kids. I’m only 8 and I know that, the caseworker has to be at least 30, can’t she figure that much out? 
Sometimes we only get to see each other for a few minutes but we’re supposed to get a WHOLE hour!  No matter what’s going on, it’s worth everything when Mommy hugs me and tells me it’ll be okay.  How does she know it’ll be okay?  They won’t let me tell her what happens at home. When I say I’m going to tell my Mommy something, then they won’t take me to visit her.  So I don’t dare tell Mommy and miss a Tuesday Visit.
I told Mommy that each time I go home from a visit I just scream at my foster Mom. 
“Because each time she walks in, its not you, Mommy”
So I scream.  I scream and I scream. 
Really I wish I didn’t cause I only makes things worse, and making this foster mom mad is bad news.  I try but I can’t help it, I’m only 8 and screaming helps me when I hurt so bad I feel like I will blow up. .  One of my foster sisters told me at another place this girl would cut herself; I guess that’s how she let it out… I just scream, even though I know what it gets me.
“SHUT UP, BOY!” Mom yells. 
I shut up. 
I shut up when I felt the sting of her ruler across my side, but not before I tore the towel rack off the wall in the bathroom. 
I never did that at my real home, I don’t know why I do it now.
“I want my Mommy!!!” 
“I want my Mommy and my name’s not Boy!” 
Visit Day on Tuesday is the best day of my life but Visit Day night is almost as horrible as Visit Day morning was fantastic.  I think I’d be as quiet as a mouse if it mattered, but it doesn’t.  It doesn’t matter what we do, we always do something wrong to Mom and Dad… I feel like I’m only here for them to get me to do things for them that they don’t want to do, and to cuss at.  I hate it that they make us call them Mom and Dad.
Yesterday, my foster brother tried to break my neck.  He’s the oldest.  There are 3 other foster brothers.  4 foster sisters too.  In my old life, I would’ve yelled for help, but not here. I learned that the first week.  I yelled for help and they helped all right – helped choke me… and hold me down.  Even Lil’ Sis sat on me, but I know why and I’m not mad at her.  She’s afraid of them too, like me. But she knows I won’t hurt her later, so she sits on me, but not hard.  Sometimes I see her looking at me and I can almost hear her saying she’s sorry with her eyes. 

I wonder if she hears me wishing she was Wonder Woman and could save me. 
I’d become that green guy with all the muscles and save her if I could; I’d save all the children, even the mean ones.  I think sometimes the other kids are mean because they’re mad they are here.  Maybe they learned that screaming doesn’t do any good but I bet they didn’t used to be mean in their old life.  Like me, and the towel rack; we are all changing now that we are here.
I gave Lil’ Sis my white shirt when she came in, because she didn’t have any shirts that fit. 
I try to protect her as much as I can, even from Mom.  Especially now, ever since the night I call the “cord night”.
I could still feel the stinging on my side and butt from the ruler the night before. “It’s almost Tuesday, it’s almost Tuesday” I kept telling myself as I try to ignore the stinging and get ready to go to sleep. Dad was in the bathroom fixing the towel rack when it happened.  Mom was mad too and got madder as Dad was calling me bad names for breaking the rack last night.  He kept saying that they didn’t get paid enough money for the things that are broken by the “brats”.   I don’t know who Dad gets paid by, but he’s always yelling, “It’s not enough to take care of you brats”.  What is a brat?  My mom didn’t call me names and I don’t think anybody paid her to take care of me. 

Molly, Apologiies but I have had to cut this down as we only allow between 800 and 2000 words this is too long at the moment and I would suggest you post the rest another time.  We prefer that you only post one or two stories per day as it takes up room on the board for other members posts.   Many thanks

« Last Edit: March 05, 2007, 06:12:12 AM by Lin Treadgold »
Finally the last ‘save one for me’ was finally the last one that ended we.Me & you we're over again.The end.Much too scared & too much afraid to go away. Much too hurt too much to stay.Much too much for us both to say 'its time to admit what we already know' I begged you to stay,you told me to go.

Offline ignis

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I love the sensitivity of your writing. 

As parents we don't want to feel the emotions that this writing stirs up..  We try to deny the fact that adults who are suppossedly there to look after the childs best interests sometimes only think of themselves. it coukd be our child going through this and for raising feelings like this in your readers you deserve great credit.  You say this is based on a true story.  I hope this book does a little to alleviate the suffering that these children went through and also to make parents and carers  stand up and take notice.

I guess I'm rambling but your writing has stirred up emotions.  I guess that is the prime object of any writing.

  If this is not picked up by a publisher I hope you self-publish.  It should be compulsory reading for anyone who is thinking about having children or indeed fostering or adopting.  If the book becomes available I will certainly buy it.

best of luck with this.  You deserve it.

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Offline 14thdaymom

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Yes, it is based on the events that occured in the Texas foster system; the little boy based on my son who, unlike the story, never came home, after he was kidnapped and placed in the system rather than sent home - the statements in the story are taken verbatim from recordings i made during visits with him, such as "it seems like a lifetime waiting from tuesday to tuesday to see you." 

The inspiration though came directly from a recording where the end of the tape had a sentence that was highly inaudible because of a caseworker talking on the phone in the background, and then another mother crying in a wail as she ran out the center door (even the footsteps of her running out can be heard)...and my son had been hugging me when he said this with his head buried in my shoulder...
and as i listened back to the tape all i could understand was
"...blah blah blah I just screamed...blahblahblah..."

I had documented  this visit because it was given to us on a Wednesday, because on Tuesday I arrived to be told they forgot to bring him, when they told him I did not show up... They reluctantly allowed me in on Wednesday and he was bloody and beaten, and having been suspicious from his no-show the day before, I had two recorders with me and a camera.  I documented his injured condition & it was the last whole visit they allowed me.  I filed complaints and fought with my life, to no avail, when I went public online, they put me under gag order and completely did a CYA (cover your a**) thing. Needless to say he never was sent home even though his abductor is in prison now and I don't know where he is now - nearly 3 years later.  Thats where alot of the story is fiction - in the story he comes home.  The other incidents are derived from reports I got from public information required by law for them to disclose of incidents within facilities that are state run - I obtained the reports of the facilities he was in - one in particular that was ultimately shut down.  Lil' Sis is derived from a case out of NC of a little girl named <a href=""> Kayla Allen </a> who was murdered with poison - a case that an advocate I worked closely with was involved in... So while these children in the story are fictional, they are not - they are VERY REAL... and I do hope to one day write a book but I have no formal training whatsoever in writing; and have no clue how to go about it.  (If anyone is interested in partnering up on the endeavor, let me know - please...)

(anyway back to the inspiration I had for this piece...)

I was listening to that tape, and I became obsessed with that inaudible section of the tape.
Over the course of at least a year, closer to a year and 1/2 - I spent days and nights obsessively replaying it hundreds upon thousands of times to the point where i can hear it in my head now - all the time - its like a record skipping, or a repeated track on a creepy techno song... I listened to it on the original tape recorder, digital recordings transferred from analog, on computers, pc and my mac, on different programs, high baud rates, low baud rates, slow motion, low bass, different tweaks, through head phones, different speakers, surround sound, center speaker, left speaker, right speaker, over and over and over and over again, it was something I HAD TO KNOW why my baby would scream... what did he say that day that i couldn't remember because it was so emotional holding him in that condition with the caseworker babbling on the phone in the background, and the other families torn apart, other mother crying and running out the door like I wanted to but couldn't... why was he screaming???

and then finally one day i heard it - -

"Each time I go home from a visit I just screeeeeam at my foster mom..." 


"Cuz each time she walks in, its not you..."

I heard it... and I can hear it now... and it is clear as day on even the worst recording when I listen to it now, but I don't have to anymore, because its recorded in my mind in a memory that only I carry of that year and 1/2 obsession with knowing why he screamed.  He screamed because it wasn't me.  Because he had to go back there after Tuesday's visit was over.  That was the last Tuesday I got to see him except one brief time on March 15, 2005 but by then he was so cold and angry at me, because they told him I didn't want to see him anymore, not that I wasn't allowed to.

Every Tuesday I wonder if he thinks about those nights he screamed.  I do.

So it was very easy for me to write that piece, it was raw, and real, and just came out as if it were from a powerful force from the writing gods inside of me...

Thank you for your supportive comment; it means so very much.  I hope this story is shared to the world and at least quiets one child's screams out there somewhere.  Then I've made a difference and my little boy didn't scream in vain.

Finally the last ‘save one for me’ was finally the last one that ended we.Me & you we're over again.The end.Much too scared & too much afraid to go away. Much too hurt too much to stay.Much too much for us both to say 'its time to admit what we already know' I begged you to stay,you told me to go.