Ishigreensa

Chapter 25 The Swing State Not the Show Me State Cait sat on the swing with Kookaberry in her lap staring at the other kids in the park. She wanted to play, but she was scared. What if they don’t like her? So she sat there for a little bit, just watching. There were maybe ten boys and girls running around, chasing each other. It looked like a lot of fun. “They’re having fun,” she told Kookaberry. “You would have fun.” “What if they don’t like me?” “What if they do?” The whispers carried out a little, but it was hard for Cait to gauge how much it did. She hadn’t talked to anyone other than the stuffed bear, the ghost, Uncle and Auntie now for a few days, and even at home before coming to the Dairy place, she just didn’t really say much there either. She was always in trouble there, and being quiet meant not being noticed, even if she was in poopy panties, at least no one noticed until she was at the table where they saw her or she asked for something, then she’d be in trouble and still didn’t always get help with what she wanted. “What if they go and tell Uncle and Auntie that I did something bad?” she asked Kookaberry. “But what would they tell them?” The bear seemed to reach to her neck and hug her. “You didn’t do anything to them, so they can’t tell on you. And anyway, see over there?” Cait looked over and saw Uncle and Auntie talking, but they were watching the little lonely girl, too. They seemed to be whispering and their glances at her told her that they were worried. They didn’t look mad. They looked like they wanted to come over, but then they looked at the other kids, and they sat back down, as if walking over would stop the other kids from talking to her. Suddenly, from the back of her head, she heard a shy little whisper and felt a poke in the middle of her back. “How come you by yourself not even playing on the swing right?” Cait turned to face a girl that might have been her age, she wasn’t sure. She was maybe a little shorter. She looked at the bear in her arms and her thumb in her mouth. Cait quickly pulled her thumb out. “We’re all play tag over there,” the girl stepped back a little. Her nose wrinkled a little bit. “You look like you’re all by yourself. Some of us were thinking that you shouldn’t be sitting all by yourself. It just looks sad. Do you… do like to play with others?” “Yeah,” Cait whispered her face getting red. “I’d really like to.” “How about you give your Dad and Mom your Bear and come and play with us?” “They’re not exactly my Dad and Mom.” “Oh. Well, if you wanted, you could take your bear, bit it looks so clean. I just didn’t think you wanted to drop it.” “Yeah, can I take Kookaberry over to them? They’re my mom’s cousins but I call them Aunt and Uncle.” “I’ll walk over partway with you.” “Okay.” “Um… can I ask you something?” “Okay?” “Did you kind of pee your pants?” “No?” “Oh, okay. It’s just you stink a little bit.” “I’m sorry. I didn’t pee though.” “Well, if you wanted to know where the bathroom was, you have to go the Seven-eleven around the corner. The Park doesn’t have one… if you’re getting ready to pee.” “I’m not. I promise.” “Okay.” She stopped a few feet from the bench where Aunt and Uncle were now smiling at me. “Did you make a friend, pet?” Auntie asked. “I don’t know. She said I stink, but she said I can still play.” I looked back at her she smile at me. “Well, we all have our own odors,” Sean put a hand on me. “Maybe she’s just not used to you yet.” “She said I stink like pee.” Auntie frowned. “Did you pee your pants, sweetheart?” “No?” “Do you want to go, Pet?” Uncle asked. I shook my head no. “Well, go play,” Auntie took Kookaberry. “We’ll be here if you need us.” I sighed and nodded. “Okay. I just hope everyone doesn’t do what kids usually do.” “If they do, you come and get us and we’ll find another place to play, Cait. You don’t deserve that, okay?” Auntie looked sternly at me. “Don’t put up with them being mean even if actually wet your pants a little bit, you still don’t deserve it.” “Okay.” I ran back to the blond girl with light freckles. “I’m Ruth,” She smiled at me. “If anyone says anything meaner than telling you the truth about the stink, you tell me. I’ll push them down. I’m stronger than half of them, and the other half, we don’t have to play with.” “Huh?” “What’s your name?” “Cait?” “That’s a different name. Is it like the animal.” “No. It said different. It makes with an ‘I’ in the middle. It comes from the old country that my Mama is from and my Aunt is from.” “Oh, like German?” “I don’t think it Jeromy. I think it Englass, but different.” “Oh. Well, do you cry if someone calls you a cat or says meow at you?” “Sometimes.” “Good. Because I’m telling them the rule that you are NOT a cat and anyone that meows isn’t allowed to play with us.” “Really?” “Yeah. It’s mean to make your friends cry, and I not going to let them make you cry, even if you did pee your pants.” “But I didn’t, I promise. I can pull down my pants and show you.” “No. I’m sorry. Don’t do that. I’ll stop saying it. I just was trying to be your friend, and I guess… I really thought you did and you were scared that you did. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” “Okay.” “Time out, everyone! Time out. No tagging, Billy! I have a new friend and she’s playing so listen up!” Ruth was definitely in charge out here like Kookaberry is at home. That’s what Cait decided. “This is Cait, and that’s not Ca-at with a meow, David,” she put her hands on her hips when she saw a boy starting to whisper to his closest neighbor. “It’s cah with an ‘it’ in it, and it’s pretty. And if you meow at her, tell her she peed her pants, or anything else mean, I don’t care, you’re not playing no more. We don’t need you to play if you are mean to my new friend.” “Yeah,” a group of five girls joined Ruth. “What about the rule that new people are always it?” Billy, a bigger boy with heavy arms asked. “She’s new. We giving a pass this time.” “No, I can be it,” Cait felt a heavy feeling that she couldn’t explain and whispered. Ruth turned and faced Cait. “Cait, I don’t think that’s a good idea this time. If someone touches you, you can be it, but you need to feel the freedom to run with someone at your side for a minute. I can tell. People pick on you.” “How do you know?” “Because you are too quiet and quick to prove you didn’t do something and you shouldn’t have to feel that way. And because you still look scared. And the way you look at Billy, like he might hit you or something. I don’t want you to think that anyone here is going to be mean. And I want to run with you until you forget about being picked on.” “Okay.” Billy, strong and blocky, the kind of tank Uncle was probably at school walked closer. His face looked a little bit like Ruth. “Wait, someone picked on you before?” he asked. “It’s my fault.” “Oh, the hell it is, Cait. You tell Ruth if anyone says anything! If anyone picks on my sister, and my sister is picked on when her friends are, and she’ll get me, and I’ll pound ‘em. You don’t put up with that here, Cait!” He looked around. “If anyone so much as makes a little cat noise, and well, you best walk away from playing right now. You don’t want to deal with me if you start picking on her during play. So, David? Barbara? Yeah, you know I’ll hit a girl, if that girl is bigger than another girl, especially bigger than my sister and picking on her.” Barbara walked away. “Good. Now that’s settled, I’ll be it in Cait’s place. Cait, you stick with my sister when you’re not being chased. She likes you.” Then we started running! -- We ran through the jungle gym and hid under there for a minute to take a breathing break. “That’s my brother,” Ruth out proudly at him. “A little slow and dumb sometimes, but really smart when I went need him to be. And he’s pretending we’re not even here. See how he’s purposefully moving so we can’t get away when we are ready to run, but how he’s looking for someone else. He does that sometimes for me.” “I thought brothers just chase you as soon as they saw your—or sisters.” “If you are just playing with each other, maybe?” Ruth frowned. “Unless you know something I don’t? But in my house, yeah, he will chase me until he catches me if it’s just family, but when there are other kids to chase, if he can see I’m holding my side and need to really rest, he switches targets as if I’m not there.” “Really?” “Yeah. And if someone else is it, he will get closer to them than me if he thinks I’m tired too. If they ignore him, he says chicken! Slow ass! You have to pick on the tired because you too slow and you know it! Like that!” “He protects you all the time, huh?” “Like I said, sometimes a little dumb. Sometimes, I deserve to get caught, but I would never trade him for anyone else. He’s going into sixth grade this year, and I’m in fourth.” “I’m in fifth grade this coming year.” “Oh, nice! I can say I have a big friend, now. Not just my brother’s friends! Yay!” “I hear you two talking,” Billy told us. “Everyone can. So I have to chase you. You gave yourselves away getting loud!” “Come and get us then! Go that way, Cait!” And we started running. Even when I was it, it was fun! “Nanny nanny goat!” they wiggled their hands in their ears. “Too slow, Irish or Scottish girl!” They never once said Cait, and when Ruth’s mom came to end the game as the sun started to set, Ruth led her over and it seemed she knew Auntie. “That’s the niece you were talking about a couple of weeks ago at church, then?” “That’s my little cousin,” Eiboline whispered. “She’s very helpful around the house, too.” “Mom? She’s Ruth’s friend. She is pretty cool, too. She has a Scottish name or an Irish name or something. I know it has to be that because she says her family isn’t exactly English, but she’s from the same place, so it has to be Irish or Scottish, right?” “Well, the Kinsellas are Irish,” his mom smiled. Billy smiled. “I knew it! Can Cait have a sleep over some day with Ruthie?” “I said not to call me Ruthie in front of my friends. I’m not a baby no more!” “Ruthie, Ruthie Ruthie,” Billy patted her head. “It’s just your shy friend, Cait, Ruth. She’s not going to say anything mean about it.” I looked down. “It’s not a good idea for me to stay the night,” Cait whispered. “Why?” Ruth asked bright eyed. “If you need anything like medicine or stuff, mom has helped my friends before if they needed help. I once had a girl come and stay who needed help to get around when she was in crutches because she broke her leg. No one minds helping you if you need anything.” Auntie smiled. “We’ll talk about it later, Ruth. Cait… she’s just had some adjusting even in our house. It could be good for her at some point, but not just yet, okay?” “Okay. But she’ll come to the park again. Promise?” “I’ll call your mom next time we are thinking about a park trip, okay?” “Yay! And mom can call you!” Sean didn’t put Kookaberry into my hands until we got back to the car, and his only word was, “now.” as he helped me into the car. The sun was moving out of where we can see, but from under the ground it’s last light was making the clouds orange and pink and red. It was very pretty as we got into the car. “Ruth is so fun, Auntie. She knows I pee my pants, but she plays with me anyway.” “What do you mean she knows, pet?” “She said I stink like pee, and she told me about the bathroom, and when I tried to tell her I didn’t and I don’t want to, she didn’t let me pull my pants down to show her. She said I don’t have to prove it. And she still thought I peed until I said I can show her. She said she was sorry she said I did. But then she told everyone at the playground that no one is allowed to call me a cat or make cat sounds before we played, and then her big brother looked right at these two kids when he said anyone that makes his sister cry, he will make them cry. And his sister friends getting picked on is the same as her getting it, and he going to make them cry if they make me cry. And then we played and no one said nothing about cats at all. They just did the normal stuff with chase that everyone does. They did call me Iris girl and skotash girl. But I didn’t care. It was just true and it wasn’t really mean.” I looked at Kookaberry. “You were right. I didn’t know kids can be nice if I didn’t try. Thank you for telling with your Just-a-mind thingy at Ruth to play with me. You knew, didn’t you?” Chapter 26 A Long, long, long Three After The Park Cait felt a little uncomfortable tightness in her side when she was talking, but it didn’t quite tell her what was wrong. She just kept talking about Ruth and about having these friends who didn’t call her a cat, and only when she ran out of breath, did she pull air through her teeth like she knew something was wrong. Not yet having heard, the pull of air through teeth, Sean started the car and the car started to roll towards the parking exit. “You had a really long recess,” Cait heard in her head. Cait’s face was still heated from all the chasing and playful calling at the tagger. She recalled another moment when one of the girls was about to climb up the same level on the jungle gym after her, and she jumped onto the slide, the movement feeling like flight through the blue sky as she saw the clouds for just a moment going down the slippery surface. Her underpants already felt warm and she knew she had some pre-pee in them again, but the feeling had gone away the minute she thought it came when she saw Ruth coming after her laughing and calling out “I’ll get you Irish girl!” “The fun was great, huh?” But there was something off about how the voice said it. That wasn’t Kookaberry. Cait’s legs pumped up and down to get closer together. “What do you want, ghost?” “Nothing.” “Are you alright back there, Pet?” Auntie Eiboline called back sort of breaking the ghost into fragments for a moment, but then realization. Cait noticed herself. She was moving her legs closer together to stop herself needing to pee. She sucked in more air in her teeth. “Okay, Auntie,” but her breath was backwards, air coming in as she talked more than going out. The adults looked at one another. Cait felt her hand push itself between her legs, and though she was happy it still felt dry, she didn’t want them to see her hand there. Her eyes fluttered dark, Auntie’s face, dark, and face again for a moment. There was silence. Her eyes fluttered shut again. Opening them, she felt the tight tension under her eyes down to her jaw, and the pursed lips she sometimes pulled her mouth into when she was having trouble before the bottom lip flaps out again from between two of her front teeth. “You’re gonna pee your pants for real,” the ghost told her. “You were just playing. You should have went to Seven Eleven before Uncle Sean put you in the car, but you didn’t.” Cait’s face tightened and her eyes closed again, longer this time, shaking in her fist and her butt fought against the water in her eyes. “Don’t cry! They’ll notice!” When she opened her eyes at Kookaberry, Cait knew he couldn’t defend her. The ghost was right. She chose not to think about the bathroom and now it was too late. It was her fault. It was almost as if Kookaberry looked sadly at her, and maybe even moved its mouth—“I’m sorry. You did feel it earlier and you ignored it. I can’t… I can’t help this time.” Tears in my eyes got stronger as I tried to push my hands against my pants again, cramming them between my thighs to try to push on it. I didn’t want to be bad. I felt the sting of shame building and I felt the fire on my butt for the spanking I deserved for not being a big girl. I sniffled. “Cait?” Sean called back but his head was on the road. “You seem too quiet, pet. You’re not sleeping are you?” “No?” her voice came out more whiny and almost cry-ly. She noticed it herself and turned her face towards a door. “Sean, her hands. They’re in her lap. She’s wetting her pants, or scared to, one or the other. Pull over. Let’s let her know it’s okay. We don’t have to be home for her to pee, do we?” “Naw, let me just find a safe place.” “Cait, if you are trying to stop the pee, the way you are? It looks like it hurts. If it hurts, stop trying to keep it in, little one.” “The… the car. He’ll be mad….” “Your Dad isn’t….” “Not Daddy. Uncle!” Cait turned back to look at Auntie. “Maybe he won’t hit me even if he can. But he still be mad if the seat is wet.” Uncle Sean whispered “Now.” The car slowed. “Cait, pet? I’m not going to be mad about the seat. I’m not. I don’t care about the seat. We can clean the seat.” “He’s lying. It’s his nice car… nicer than Ford, Daddy’s one. He likes this car. You better not.” Cait felt a little bit drizzle against her will, and she felt it getting her legs wet. “I’m ten. I can’t just pee in cars.” “Cait,” Auntie Eiboline frowned. “You are going to hurt inside your body, girl. Your insides are more important and harder to fix than a wet seat is. Just pee, little pet.” “I… I can’t.” “Cait?” the car was still rolling as though looking for a safe stop. “I mean it,” Uncle said. “We had this talk before, pet. Poopy underpants over hurting your tummy, child. I don’t want you getting sick. We can change you when we get home, but you pee those things right now. You’re hurting, child.” The car stopped. “Eiboline, it has to be me. It’s me she’s scared is going to punish. It’s me that’s got to show her it’s not happening. Just be there for when she runs to you, but let me.” Cait was still wetting, trying to stop it, but still peeing in her pants. It was impossible to stop, and it seemed to be going on and on, as though she had a lake inside. Maybe she did. Sean opened her door and pulled her out and into his lap, her pee unable to be controlled even now, outside of her thoughts, it just kept going and he pulled her into his lap, her still wetting on him. “Go ahead and poop,” Sean whispered even as the peeing started to settle and just squirt. “I don’t think it can.” “Try child. I don’t want you holding it. You don’t hold it until you need both hands to keep from wetting your pants anymore. Remember this morning, Cait-i-kins? I told you even if you asked for the toilet before, and we thought you went? That it’s okay to pee your pants?” “I didn’t obey you,” Cait frowned at Uncle. “I didn’t go before you got back. I went in the bathroom, but it didn’t come out.” “That doesn’t mean you get hit for peeing your pants, child. Pee’s not like that. It comes out when it’s ready. You did what you could. You sat on the toilet, right?” “Twice, and even tried to pee my pant on purpose like five times, but nothing….” “Then you did what you could. Just do me a favor and push a little on your butt muscle, and if nothing comes out right now, it’s okay. I just want to make sure you aren’t accidentally holding it.” “Okay.” Cait didn’t poop, but Uncle Sean kept holding her. “I’m going to go ahead and sit in the back. Both of us are soaked and we don’t want the driver’s seat wet, so I’ll just hold Cait the rest of the way home. Take it slow, okay? No seat belt right now.” Sean sat in the seat, and then he turned Cait so she was facing him, and he cuddled her in his arms, her butt flat on his lap, he made sure to push her legs so she knew to sit even though she felt water squeeze out of the underpants and through the pants and all over him. He pulled her close, her back wrapped in strong arms, and Kookaberry was put in her arm. “Tell her, Kookaberry. Wetting her pants isn’t a crime. If she chooses or she just makes a mistake, it’s not something she gets punished for. It’s just her learning new rules. Until she feels safe, she’s not going to be potty trained. When she wants to use the toilet, we let her, but when it’s too hard, we let her wet her pants. That’s the right way to potty train any child—but especially one as fragile as Cait-a-kins is right now.” Cait slowly drifted to sleep with all the excitement of real friends, the emotional weight of peeing her pants, and Uncle once again, just being there… it was too much, and she fell asleep, sucking her thumb, even wetting the rest in her body that she didn’t know was still there as he sat holding her until they got home. Chapter Twenty Seven Kookaburra Library Cait was on the floor, the next morning, in the living room, where the ghost didn’t have an answer to the question: “They didn’t tell me to clean up the city yet.” It just sat with ghost fumes wafting up off of its stinky pee soiled skirt. The clock read 5 little hand and 7 big hand. Uncle Sean was feeding the animals. He told the little girl, who had slept between and peed in the bed of the two people taking care of her for a second night in a row, “I need to make sure the animals feel safe and fed before we go. It wouldn’t be right for any of them to starve.” “That means Shadow, too, right?” Cait asked looking up from her city. “Yes, that would include the dog, too, pet.” “Can I feed her? Or am I too dir-” Uncle Sean gave Cait a look that made her close her mouth. “Pet, I’ve heard words I don’t like you saying because you only use them against yourself, and what you believe about yourself is how others will see you. You need to stop that. You are not dirty. You are not stupid. And you are not a baby. You are a little girl that is healing, and that’s the end of it. You are a little girl, Cait. Just—a little girl.” At six little hand and 7 big hand, Auntie came down and collected Cait in her arms. “Bath time, little pet. We are going to be out all day, and I don’t want our little girl starting out uncomfortable, now do I?” She kissed the side of her face. “Seriously, though Cait, it’s important to do your best to feel your best when you go out. No little lady should ever leave the house to go to town without a bath, first, okay?” “Even when I pee my pants all the time?” “Doesn’t matter, Cait. Taking a bath is a choice. That’s why you don’t ignore it. A little pee pee in your clothes isn’t anyone’s business and sometimes, that’s not a choice, and that’s why we don’t judge whether to take a bath based on if we pee our pants or not. Understand?” “Okay.” At little hand on the seven and big hand on the thirty… Oh, Cait knew this! At seven-thirty, the family piled into the car, and Auntie Eiboline sat in back with her this time and pointed out the window as they drove among the farms. “Your little friend, Ruth lives out that way,” she whispered. “And down that road, they have the best apples! They let kids pick upto five for free!” Cait leaned her now clean little body into her aunt and she tilted her head up like a little girl might with her mom. “Last year, the teacher found something I could read, once. It was just a one page thing with a picture on the back, but I read it. It was hard, but I did it.” “Well, a library has all kinds of books, Cait. Maybe we will find something you can read there for yourself. Have you never had a library card before.” “Our farm in Mishuree is too far from town. Takes the buss like almost a whole small hand to get to our farm from school.” “It takes almost an hour to get home from school riding the bus?” Cait nodded. “And your Dad, he got mad at you when you got off the bus?” “He was at work. He didn’t see. Mom told Grainne to clean me up before he gets home. He doesn’t see it when I ride the bus.” “Well, at least one thing done right,” Auntie muttered. The car drove a bit without any real farm Auntie talked about nor any thing else with the exception of a church on a hill in the distance. The church we all attend on Sundays was referenced only once, and then the car seemed paused, as if painted at the top of a hill, and a full wide city stretched before Cait below it. “There’s where we do most of our shopping,” Eiboline told Cait. “If you were ours, that’s where you’d go to school.” There a bit of sadness in the those last words. Cait could feel them as they sounded forced from her throat. It was like someone chopped auntie’s words in the strangest places, and then a hint of something that Cait recognized as a held cry lingered on two of the words. “Ours.” “school.” Cait looked up at Auntie, but she smiled down at Cait. Auntie wasn’t fooling her though. Those two words meant more than Auntie was telling. “I’m wearing boy clothes,” Cait reminded herself. “The dresser has boy toys all over it depicting where the baby horse child, like her self, had on invisible poopy panties the other day. The Ajax told the dog to let the baby horse go potty.” She sighed. “Maybe the clothes belongs to someone who went to school in this place?” The library was a small round building with so many cars parked around it, it felt like a Church building on a Sunday. “So many people here?” Cait looked up at Auntie. “Well, a lot of parents take their children to the library in the summer, Cait. They take them to the pool, too, sometimes. Summer is the time when many parents breathe with their children and make memories that they want to take with them for years.” “My Dad isn’t a lot of parents.” “You can say that again,” Auntie’s eyes flashed red for a moment. Cait heard it in her voice that deepened and became quieter and more slow in speaking. “Now,” Uncle Sean put a hand on either of them. “This isn’t about Dan, Eiboline. It’s about Cait building a memory with her cousin. Just mind that.” Eiboline smiled at Uncle and Cait looked up and smiled, too. “Okay,” Cait’s voice was quiet. She didn’t need to be told somehow. No one told her the rules of a library. Even at school, she wasn’t allowed to go. But somehow, she could just feel it. No one was shouting. The carpet and the rows of books meant reading space. At school, when kids did silent reading, it was done quiet. The rule was there without needing a sign that Cait could read. Cait was allowed to bring Kookaberry still in her arm and her thumb went nervously to her lips as they walked into the front desk space. There was a man behind the counter. Cait looked down at her shoes. “I would like to make a new library card,” Auntie told the man. “She’s with us all Summer, so at least usable until August 20th?” “We can do that,” their voices were soft. “This is my cousin’s child, Cait. She’s a little treat to have around. She can brighten any room if you hear her play or you watch her. She’s a very decent heart.” “How old is she?” “She’s ten.” “A little old for her thumb….” “Now,” Sean pulled me behind him for a minute. “None of that. She’s growing just fine. That habit doesn’t hurt no one.” “No, it doesn’t,” the man nodded before Sean let me back in the man’s view. “She’s had a hard time at life. So. Now.” That was all that was said about Kookaberry, my thumb, or my not ability to write anything on the card. The man just smiled and said. “That will do. Your Auntie can fill in the rest. Even here, Uncle Sean told the man not to talk about my thumb. I felt my free hand wrap around without my meaning too, and I held Uncle Sean, or more, I pulled myself into him. “Here we are,” Uncle Sean helped Cait into a chair and put her bear into her arms right where it belongs. “Now, we can look up anything you want, Cait-i-kins. Of course, we are going to find out what a Kookaburra is, but we can get stories, and maybe we can find something you feel comfortable trying to read, too, only if you want.” “I don’t read good, though.” “It’s not about reading good, Cait. It’s about being welcome to read what you can. There are lots of different kinds of books here, and some with no words at all.” “Books without words? How do you read those?” “I’ll be right back,” Auntie smiled and patted her head and then walked off towards a little space that Cait could see little kid sitting and a low shelf where kids half her size were getting books for themselves. “So, Let’s see. I think factual stuff will be that way. Let’s us go that way,” he decided the table wasn’t as important at the moment as engaging his little cousin-niece. Cait put her arms up, and Uncle Sean didn’t need words. He immediately bent down and lifted her up and carried her like was a five year old or something, but what Cait felt, was… he was carrying me because I mattered. “Okay, let’s see. Koo… Koo…,” Uncle was muttering to himself while patting my dry bottom. “Can I help you find something?” A younger girl maybe in high school asked him. “Well, we’d like to know something about Kookaburras. I know they are animals and they live in Australia….” “Ah, yes, come, I’ll show you how the card catalog works if you don’t know. You want real facts, right, not just a story?” “That’s what we want,” Uncle Sean smiled. It took her a few moments, but then she led us along the shelves explaining that 000 meant something, and 100 meant something, and so on. It was too many stuffs though because there 900s stuffs, and it seems hard to follow all the words she used, too. Uncle Sean walked back to the table and it was still open. He sat down with Cait in his lap, her legs dangled to the left and right of his lap, and he opened the book, Birds in Australia. “The librarian knew something Uncle Sean didn’t even know,” he tells Cait. “See had us look up a book about the birds of Australia. See? You don’t have to know everything. You just have to ask someone who can find the answer.” Cait turned and hugged him. “But you know about milk farms.” “Now.” He carefully turned each page until they saw a section in the book about the birds. “Well, look at that. They actually do eat gum stuff off of trees,” he laughed. “Now I really did learn something other than them being a bird!” He pointed to the words. “You can try, Caitikins. I’m here. I’ll help.” Cait started to read: Kook a burr a is a bird xat ivs in Ostoralea. “Very good!” Uncle Sean patted her lap. He reread the phrase a little faster. So, what do we know from that?” “Kookaberry is a bird that lives in Australia,” Cait smiled. “But it can laugh?” “Let’s see….” They read about the kookaburra until the end of that section, but it didn’t tell about the laughing. “Stay here a moment, pet. I’ll go see if I can find another book.” Cait saw him go, not to the box things that the librarian called a Card Cat-log, but he went to a librarian again. She could tell they were talking about her because Uncle Sean pointed over at her and smiled as he was talking to her in a quiet enough voice it was impossible to hear. While he was over there talking, Auntie Eiboline came back with tree books. They weren’t about Australia or the bird, but they were wordless picture stories. “You could read these stories quite easily,” she told Cait. Then she sat across from her and put a book open in front of her. “No words, but you can see what’s happening, can’t you?” Cait nodded. “Yeah. There is a monkey. It’s outside by the tall building. It is watching a man with yellow clothes.” “You are reading so well, Cait.” Cait narrowed her eyes. “That’s not reading, Auntie. There no words.” “There are two kinds of reading, Cait. Yes, you are not doing what teachers at school call reading by looking at letters and figuring out what those things are. But you can tell what the book says to you without those letters. You are reading the book in the sense that you know what it means without needing letters to tell you. Some adults have a hard time reading those kinds of readings.” “Really?” “They sure do. Your Uncle Sean is much better than I am at this kind of reading. That’s why he knows by looking at you that something needs to be done before I do.” “Do you mean like I readed that the dresser shrine thingy is the dog is the boss in the dresser farm, and each animal has a place by it’s own by where it fence is?” “That’s exactly it, Cait. You know by the feel of the page and what’s on it, what they want to tell you. So if I were to ask you to look at that page again, you just described, what do you think the story is?” “Well, there is a monkey, and the monkey is thinks, why this man comes here? I follow because man is not I know him.” “Good. Keep going.” “The monkey see another man is not wear yellow, but only that man. The monkey only follow that man, so maybe monkey is think I like yellow.” When I finished the story, Auntie read the Title. George and the man in Yellow. This is from a series of books,” she says to Cait. “It’s a very old series that goes all the way back to the 1940s. That’s about forty years ago.” “Wow!” Uncle Sean came back and Auntie Eiboline whispered. “Maybe I can find you some easy to read books on some of the ways you feel. That might help you understand how some stuff isn’t your fault when your insides tell you it is?” Auntie went off to go see what she was talking about, but Uncle sat down with me again. “So, let’s see if Kookaburras really laugh….” He pushed a the book between us, two seats at the table, and we shared. He read it and I looked at the pictures and told him what the pictures told me. I couldn’t remember the last time I was in front of a book so happy to see one. It wasn’t taunting me with words I couldn’t read because Uncle Sean read, and it wasn’t hiding things from me because still, Uncle Sean read and then he told me simple, what it said. I didn’t have to worry. If I looked at Uncle, he didn’t make me ask. He just said the word I don’t get, and he told me why it meats what it was. “Hold on, Cait. I have a question now. May I go look ask for myself?” “Okay,” Cait smiled at her uncle still looking at the lastest find, still curious about the Kookaburra. Cait read: “They are fo- fu- fond in ha habi-ta-ts rang-in frum hum-id forest to ayrd sa-va-na, as well as in sub-turb-an are-as wit tall trees or ne-ar run-in water. Cait’s leg started bouncing. She didn’t really understand any of that, but Uncle Sean will explain it when he comes back. It was interesting though how much they had on the bird. It doesn’t even live in America. How do books know what animals in other parts of the world are like? She looked up and didn’t see Uncle Sean or Auntie Eiboline anywhere. She looked back down at the book as her legs twitched a little closer. “Uncle left you here by yourself,” she heard a voice. There was a chomp in the air, but it missed the words. “If you embarrass your Uncle, this will be the (chomp).” “Hey!” the ghost was slowly appearing. “I’m just warn (chomp).” Kookaberry and the ghost were staring each other off. The ghost seemed to fade from view, but Kookaberry wasn’t fooled. Cait’s arms moved the bear up over head, and the Bear rotated around slowly until it faced the front again. Cait’s hand bumped an ear. The ear twitching? Cait held Kookaberry tighter, her legs starting to wiggle under the table. “Do you see a toilet?” Cait whispered to the bear. The Bear peeked up again at everything in its view, and Cait lifted her head just enough to look around, but even if she could see one, unless it was just a universal sign that she missed, she didn’t see anything that showed the way. “We could walk out to the desk and ask someone, or just look from the open area over there. It might be easier to see.” “And then Daddy will have your hide for real,” the ghost’s words were back stronger. “Look. You know you can’t read! Even if they told you how to get there, how would you? You’d be peeing all over the place and doing what Daddy tells you not (Chomp chomp chomp). Cait would have told you she felt the rumble in the Bear’s tummy through her hands if she was asked how she knew the stuffed bear was eating the words. “Cait knows (chomp chomp chomp) right.” Cait’s hands went down to the pants, and held herself tight, one arm still tightly holding Kookaberry against her chest even with her hand trying to block any liquid. There was warmth down there. It felt a little more than just pre-pee. An older kid, maybe three or four years older, maybe, walked up to Cait’s table. “Hey. You look scared.” Cait shook her head. “Are you sure?” Cait tried to smile. “I’m just waiting for my Aunt to come back. She’s getting a book for me.” “Okay.” The older kid, maybe fourteen or fifteen years old walk through and out of sight. “Cait?” Kookaberry whispered giving the ghost a chance. “If you move from this table, you’ll embarrass Sean. Let’s say he doesn’t get mad. Let’s say he picks you up and defends you after you spread all your filth...(chomp). “Wait, Kooka. I… I want to know the last part.” The Bear’s mouth seemed turned slightly. Cait thought she saw a bear tooth peeking form the the top lip. Still, the bear rested and Cait could barely hold the bear as she felt it shivering through her fingers. “If you pee all over the library, and everyone sees it, do you think other people will respect them? They just let you dirty the place their kids all go to read, and now, the Kinsellas will lose their (chomp chomp chomp).” “Ghost is wrong,” Kookaberry seemed to have its face turned left and then right. “Ghost is just scaring you. That’s what (boo-ooo-ooh). The Ghost seemed to find it’s own way to cut Kookaberry off like what Kookaberry did to it. Cait’s legs were really moving around now, under the table. Auntie was busy. Cait didn’t see Sean. She was getting close. “Just do it right here, and hide it,” Ghost with wafting fumes of ghost rising from its own dingy pee stained faint dress. “The better you (chomp chomp chomp).” “No shame, boo-oo-ooh!” Cait felt more drizzle into her underwear, only now, she could feel it was heavy in the pants. She was actually staring to pee her pants, as she sat there. Chapter 28 Now You Did It, Didn’t You Her lap started to darken and gross smelly water licked out from her into her hands. Her legs slapped together, but it only caused the slap to get louder because wet jeans make that sound that dry ones don’t. Taunts filtered through her ears, not just through the ghost, but through other people, like the ghost had something like Kookaberry’s Just-a-mind thingy. “Mommy! Look,” a child way younger than Cait yelled across the library. “That girl’s chair is leaking! Her pees was running off of the chair, and she could hear the pit pats that usually damped inside her underwear were now heard falling off her chair to the carpeted floor under her. “Disgraceful, how some kids’ parents don’t teach their kids anything,” Cait hear a lady maybe just become an adult stage whispering to another girl as they passed by. “You said it. Honestly! Thumb in her mouth, Bear in her arms, and peeing all over the floor. What a stupid butt baby!” The two of them landed right in front of Sean, looking them in the eye and a frown on his face. Cait felt tears running down her cheeks though her mouth made no other sound but sucking on a dirty pee-wetted thumb in her distress. Her legs are still banging into each other, but the floor is already on the floor. What little dribbles still fall are from what is already in the chair. And there is a loud hum of this is exactly what I was talking about rant that was popping through her ears. “Now, everyone knows, and the Kinsellas are going to be thrown out of town because some ten year old is just like Daddy says she is.” One of the women nearly bumped into a stone wall of a man with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed at the both of them. “Here, let me get that beam out of your eye,” he whispered. “What?” the woman looked up at the man now strengthening his glare at the girls. “That beam,” he unfolded his arms. “The one that’s right there blocking your path to a better choice. You want to spread gossip, do you? What would it feel like if someone found out that two nearly adult girls were walking through the children’s section, targeting a scared little miss that is clearly distress with harmful words because they don’t know nor do they care to research the word empathy in their studies?” “You can’t… you don’t even… She’s too old!” “Get out my sight before I have the library call security. We’ll see whose side security is on, if you’d like that.” The girls ducked away. Sean jogged the last few steps to the table and he scooped the sobbing soggy lass into his arms and pulled her body right into his shirt. “Cait, it’s okay,” he whispered. Her brain stuck at his shirt. She couldn’t hear anything for moments. The scene was strange and her heart raced. She was floating up into his chest while her bear fell tot he floor and her thumb came out of her mouth to wrap around his neck. It was so slow. Her ears were still useless, no noise. She didn’t hear the sounds of the whispy ghost that was quickly fading. A hand bent down with the left side of Uncle Sean, and he picked up Kookaberry and he tucked the bear back into her arms. Her ears were now starting to catch up as sounds started to cut through the thick air. “Now.” was the only word she picked up on. Several people came over, but their hands were not pointing. They were not laughing. They were not looking at her pants or the bear. They were looking into Sean’s eyes who was shaking his head at them, and one by one, they went back to their own doings. Sean sat Cait down, back in her chair, him sitting in her pee, as though it didn’t matter to him, and he had her still in his lap, and he turned the book page where he had found what he was looking for earlier, as if she had not just shamed him. And her teary blurry eyes could only look up into his stronger protective ones. Her only question on her lips. “Why?” “You are reading, Cait,” he whispered silently. “You are doing nothing wrong. You don’t get to be chased out of a learning place where you weren’t bothering people just because some of them don’t want to understand. This library is for everyone, pet.” Chapter 29 Movies Don’t Need Lunch, Cait “Sean, we should take her and clean her up. I know you want to make a point about her worth and no one gets to chase her away. I think you made the point, but the point isn’t worth her being in wet underpants that might get her a yeast infection or something is it?” Aunt Eiboline was sitting at the table with them by then, and she didn’t say anything for a bit. How long, Cait wasn’t sure. But she shrugged at sitting in pee. She was used to it. “You’re right, as always Eiboh. And you were right. I guess I was being juvenile by sitting here on purpose as though the pee doesn’t matter. It probably does matter to the library staff. I just don’t think it matters as much as Cait does.” “Well, I’m not saying Cait doesn’t matter. It’s exactly why….” “I know, Eiboh. You are right that her health is more important than the point that she has a right to be here.” Cait just listened to the two of them talk for a minute. “I’m sorry I….” “No,” Sean rose a finger. “You are not sorry, Cait. You are not sorry because you didn’t do anything to your Auntie or to me.” “But everyone will think you have a dir.” “Cait, no,” Sean swatted her butt. “Stop it. You are not dirty. Anyone who wants to hear gossip out of context will say what they will, but our friends know that we hate gossip, and they know to ask me if they want to know what happened.” Cait froze for a moment, thinking. She peed, and he didn’t swat her. She touched the dresser that Auntie told her not to, and he didn’t swat her. She kept forgetting to tell them when she started to wet her pants, but he didn’t swat her? Why… why did he swat her? Why didn’t it hurt? What was so bad about telling the truth that she’s dirty? “It’s not true, though, “Kookaberry’s soft body rubbed against her arm as she was settled in the car. “You’re not dirty. You don’t like wet pants. You hate it. You’re just… scared to go to the bathroom, like Uncle Sean says. He says toilet training, you’re not ready because you’re scared, not because you’re dirty. Don’t you listen?” “Daddy says...(Chomp!)” Cait nodded. He was getting annoyed earlier. Maybe he just doesn’t like it. He keeps saying “No.” And Cait held Kookaberry out to look into its glassy button eyes. “Uncle Sean doesn’t want me to say I’m dirty no more, and he doesn’t want me to say….” She looked at Kookaberry for more answers. “Now,” Uncle Sean’s favorite word, Cait realized, “We are going to go shopping and get some clothes four little beautiful cousin to change into. Then we’ll go see a show, and after that, we can have a nice little dinner out. How does that sound?” “Kookaberry,” Cait whispered to her toy. “Uncle Sean said I’m getting some new clothes.” “Yes, he did, Cait. You are important to him. He wants you to be comfortable. He doesn’t mind the messes. I didn’t lie, did I, yesterday… before the park?” “No.” “What about lunch?” Cait put her finger on her lips thinking they had not skipped lunch since they had been there. “Have you never been to the movies?” Auntie Eiboline asked while Uncle was driving, his own wet butt on the driver seat, but no one said anything about him being wet. He chose to sit in Cait’s mess, and they were going to buy her clean clothes. Cait dismissed that. She could guess what Kookaberry would say and what Uncle Sean might say. Of course she could. Kookaberry? She giggled. Cait shrugged. “No, I never went to a movies before.” “Five kids, Cait. You know Daddy says we can’t do that kind of stuff.” The ghost was starting to taunt Cait and question the cousins as being smart. “But he can go to the restaurant, can’t he?” Cait frowned. “He goes to the one that sells the adult amber stuff and where people are loud some times,” Cait’s voice wasn’t quite to herself as much as she thought it was. “What do you mean, she goes to the restaurant by himself sometimes?” Uncle Sean asked. Cait thought back to the time she ran away from school in third grade, maybe it was…. He searched for her maybe… she wasn’t sure how long, but he picked her up after finding her, and they didn’t go home. There was a dingy like restaurant that she remembered where they had a long bar where he had some drinks. She had been sitting off by herself a little closer to the door, but where he could see her. She even peed there, because kids weren’t even supposed to be there, so she was to sit and be quiet, and that’s what she did. “Well, Cait, if we were to feed you lunch right now, and we could…. Restaurants are everywhere, but sweetie? There is a joy at movie theaters you can only understand through experience, and I would not take that away from you,” Auntie Eiboline whispered. “Aye,” Sean whispered. “Popcorn, or especially caramel corn, candy, soda pop, and a movie! That’s relaxation, that is.” Cait scooted to the edge of her seat. “I’m not allowed soda pop.” “Wrong house, Cait. His rules don’t mean anything to us.” Cait felt her hands shake a little bit, and she glanced down at her lap where she felt a little damp-wet. “He left you for the summer with us, so he has to live with the fact he did leave you with us. Just like he doesn’t want us to sue him for something you might do… well, if he’s not responsible for what you do, then he’s not responsible. We are, little Cait-i-kins!” Chapter 30 New Tries-ees? As the car came up on the little shopping area, Eiboline helped Cait out of the car. “We’ll just be looking around until you get inside. We’ll be by the little Miss area.” Auntie held my hand, but I didn’t mind at all. “You see why Daddy says you are trouble, don’t you? You wanted someone to hold your hand, and you are glad to just replace your mother, just like that, just because this lady holds your hand. Are you a baby? Are you even a good (doter)? You are stupid, Cait. They treat you like a big girl, and you go and do this…. Stupid.” “Stupid,” Cait whispered to herself. I held Kookaberry to my face and smelled in the bear. He was safe. He smelled like the wardrobe, but he also had a hint of Auntie’s perfume on him. “Would you like jeans, a skirt, or something else, Cait?” Auntie asked as we got closer to the area where they had clothes that fit me. “Look at this wanna be mother!” The ghost whispered. “She’s making you choose what to put on after you just peed all over the library! She’s no mother. She probably let other kids pee their pants, too. That’s why she doesn’t got any. Her kids ran away because she told them to do it instead of spanking the for doing it.” Cait frowned. “Kookaberry?” “Well, that is, I don’t remember the boy doing that. I don’t remember what she would have done. But I think the ghost is just trying to confuse you. So…. It’s nicer to hit you and call you names for having a hard time, than it is to hold your hand and tell you not to call yourself names?” Cait stopped abruptly and Auntie looked down at her. “Are you alright, pet?” “Am I a baby to you?” she looked up at Auntie Eiboline and searched her eyes. “No, sweetheart. You are a ten year old child. You’ve had a hard time, for sure, but you’re not a baby. Why would you think that?” “Because….” And she looked down at her soaking wet pants. “You listen here, child. That mess, caused by being scared all the time, that mess? That’s not your shame to carry, lass. It’s not good that they let you feel this way about yourself. But you can bet on one thing, pet. That man is not coming here to get you. If we take you back, we take you, and I have a talk with my dear good cousin to find out what has gotten in her head to treat her own child like this.” “Huh?” Auntie sighed. “I’m sorry. Just trust me, you are not going back there if they plan to continue to shame you for struggling, Cait-i-kins. You don’t deserve that. So, right now, what we need to figure out, is what to buy you to change into.” “Oh, I just thought you were going to buy me more pants,” Cait looked down. “I mean, it’s farm clothes?” “No, pet. You have pants at home because it’s what we had at the time. Now we are here, we can get you what you are comfortable in.” “Honest?” Auntie smiled and took her hand leading her over where the they had the kind of overall bib-skirts that go over your shirt like a boy’s overalls, but it was a skirt. “Would you be interested in something like this?” Auntie asked. “Um… yeah, I like it,” Cait tapped her mouth with her finger. “But can we look, or are we in a hurry?” “No, sweetie, we are in no hurry. This is your day. But let’s get you three changes?” “Three?” “You know, because the movie will be long and we really should get you a nice dress for church next Sunday, too.” “You really mean it?” Cait felt her feet bumping up and down, not exactly jumping really, but really close to it. She had her Bear still in her arms, and Auntie had not tried to take it away. While Cait and Auntie were looking at another skirt, Uncle walked over with a pair of black nice Mary Janes and he waved Cait over. “You want some nice shoes for church, don’t you?” “I thought we just getting something so you not ashamed to take me to see a movie with wet pants on?” Cait asked. “You thought wrong then,” Uncle Sean smiled. “It’s not about shame or what is practical, Cait. It’s about a little girl getting to be a little girl, isn’t it? I never heard of a girl going into a store and coming back with just one pair of pants or shorts and a pair of panties. Doesn’t happen. It’s not natural, and you are a little lady, sweetheart. That means, we treat you like a little lady that wants clothes!” “So… I thought Auntie was saying she’d get me two things to wear and a Sunday dress, and I thought… she still had to ask you… and ….?” “Eiboline? Just two things she has a choice with and her Sunday dress? Look, whatever we agreed to last night, I don’t remember. I was sleeping. But we got money, Eiboline. We can get her more than that.” “But my cousins will be furious if we buy her….” “Well, that man should have been more careful to leave her bags and shouldn’t have made sure to make it a point that we were responsible for Cait while she was here, not him.” There was a fiery look in his eye that I could tell his Irishness then. “He can get upset all he wants. He did this! Sending a child to us in a dingy dress that she was forced to pee herself in, and then took her stuff with him. Did he really think I wouldn’t get her a dress for church that wasn’t dingy?” “So… you never changed your mind about her getting three dresses, two that she can wear and dirty as she pleases, and seven sets of skirts, pants, and shorts as she pleases?” Eiboline asked him.” “Too Right!” he nodded with exaggeration. “And ten shirts and several packs of panties so she doesn’t have to worry about smelling when she goes to church. She’ll keep one set of panties in one of the drawers that are just for church so no one sees her wearing stained panties,” he lifted her and patted her butt. Cait squirmed a little bit as he patted her wet butt because she was till soaking wet, but as he continued to talk while patting it, she relaxed. It felt good not to be hit and yelled at for it. “I want that for her, not because of shame, but because she wants to feel equal to everyone else that doesn’t worry about pee pees even if she needs a second pair of panties at church,” and then he held me out a bit to lock eyes and asked me. “Right, love?” “Uncle Sean?” Cait shook a little bit, almost scared to ask. “Um… I… I like… um… am I being stu…?” “Cait?” Sean’s head shook side to side. “Watch your words, love. You’re not allowed to say that word right now.” “I’m not allowed to say stupid. I’m not allowed to say dirty. I’m not allowed to talk like that. It’s do different that it’s scary, but somehow, I like being scared that way. It’s… I don’t like being stupid.” Cait searched for something to talk to, but the ghost was quiet. Kookaberry was resting it’s head in her arm, like it was sleeping. She frowned. “Sorry. I just… um… I’m scared.” “Good girl. Now tell me what Cait-i-kins is afraid of, love. We’ll fix it.” “Um… Panties leak too fast, when… it’s hard to hold it.” Cait was shaking and even as she looked across the aisle from the girls stuff trying to find the boy’s underpants, she bit at her lip wondering…. “Maybe I am weird?” “Go, on, sweetheart. No judgment from Uncky, sweetie.” Cait thought about Grainne sitting there in her good dress when Cait was a lot younger, and remembered the shame of having a diaper on under it, even though Grainne was like a third grader. “You pissed your pants last week at school,” her dad scolded her that morning. “So now, you wear diapers to church, and if you keep wetting your diapers at church, then you keep wearing them. What’s weird, Grainne, is wanting to piss on the Lord’s stuff.” “She was crying,” Cait whispered to Kookaberry. “Daddy didn’t let her put on panties though. I don’t know if anyone at church saw.” Cait put a finger in her mouth as she looked up at Uncle. “Well…. And it being church is it just-be-spectful if I wore something I not made to? I don’t want other people to think I being just-be-spectful on the Lord’s stuff.” “Just tell Uncky what you mean, love. Beating around the bush doesn’t get what you want. I need to know how to help you, just like I need to know when you are pee peed, so we can change you, hon.” “Um… boy panties are… thick. They hide the pee longer until I can get in the bathroom? Maybe I don’t pee on the Lord’s stuff because I can wait longer with pre-pees…. Maybe It doesn’t get on the chair.” “God didn’t invent underwears, Cait. If you like the thick feel of boy undies, then we get you the thicker undies. Okay? But Cait? The Lord cares more that you are there than if your dress, your seat, or the floor is wet. He knows our struggles, and he is made happy that you chose him even when you are scared or you have trouble being what people think you should be.” Her face blushed. “Okay…,” but her face was red and she was shaking. Was it really okay? She looked over at the dresses, nice and innocent and what girls wear, and then she felt down into her wet pants and touched her wet underwears. “Is this okay?” She took her hand out of her pants before Uncle thought she was doing something bad. As they walked around, Cait noticed that they didn’t just linger in clothes. They got her some socks and other basics of course, but they did land in the toys. “Cait. All those toys we put in your reach, you still play with those as much as you want,” Auntie told her. “But your Uncle and I were talking, and you need some princessy and Girl toys, too. So, you walk through this section, and you get seven was it Sean?” “Yeah, seven. Get seven activities that don’t have to be girl stuff per se, but it has to be Cait-- I want this-- stuff. So, there will be some explicit girl stuff among it, but it doesn’t have to be all girl stuff. Do you understand?” Cait shook her head and held Kookaberry tightly. “Kookaberry?” “Kookaberry is always yours, baby. What we mean,” Auntie Eiboline sighed. “We don’t want you to feel like you HAVE to play with boy toys all the time. We want you to own the choices of some of the activities you have at home….” “Huh?” Sean put a hand on her shoulder. “Make sure you pick seven things that when you want to feel more like a girl, you can still play in the house. Okay?” “Oh. Okay.” Cait looked in the cart as they started to count up things they wanted for her. Her heart felt tight. Her hand clenched. Her feel shook. She slid her hands down the legs of her soaked pants. She looked up. “Um… Uncle? You got too much,” Cait frowned as she looked up at him from just beside the cart. “We did?” “Um yeah. It’s more than ever.” One year, at Christmas, Cait didn’t know where it came from, but when there were too many things under the tree, they opened them all, but then Daddy shook his head. “Girls, you know that Santa made a mistake. Cait, tell me how many times you were a good girl this week. How many days were your pants dry? Grainne? How many times did you get in a fight just before the end of school. You girls see? Santa made a mistake. You can pick three gifts, then we have to give the rest to someone else who deserves toys.” Sean counted out the items in front of Cait. “No… seven bottoms… check. Three dresses… It looks like we got what we said, Cait-i-kins.” “No, I mean. It’s not even Christmas, and this is like three years of stuff at one time!” She shivered at what daddy would say at this haul. She didn’t want to be (grady)? “Cait. You need to remember something. We are getting you things to last the whole summer, and because your bag got left in the car, you need this stuff. We do it because you matter, and I know your Daddy is struggling and what he can get isn’t his fault.” Aunt Eiboline narrowed her eyes. Her mouth tightened. She shivered. She didn’t say anything. Sean emphasized. “As much as we don’t agree with a lot of what he’s doing, he does have five girls and not enough money, so it makes sense you think this is three years of stuff. But we have just one girl for the summer, and we aren’t hurting, Cait. We didn’t get too much.” Auntie nodded. “We probably didn’t get enough, but we’ll get more in a while, pet.” When they approached the store clerk to check out, he looked down at Cait’s wet jeans, but his comment is something Cait looked up into his face to try to understand. Cait flinched at first. Her hands were tightened, and she grabbed hold of Uncle Sean and pressed her face into his side. Here it comes. The ghost will pop out any minute, and the clerk will…. “Wet your pants, hon? Were you on a long trip?” He asked her as if it wasn’t something that mattered in a way that needed to be ridiculed. It felf more like he was saying it’s normal for kids her age to do on long trips? It was like weather or something? Cait’s blushing face peeked partly away from Uncle Sean enough to see him with one eye, and she nodded with her hand trying to squeeze between Uncle Sean and where she pushed her cheek against him, putting her thumb in her mouth. Chapter 31 Going Bananas “Yeah,” Sean smiled. “She just had a little set back, we’re fixing it. You don’t have a bathroom she can borrow to get her pants changed, do you?” “Oh, of course we do,” he smiled cheerfully. Then he spoke into a loud speaker thingy. “Michelle, teller one, please. Michelle, teller one!” “By the time we get this stuff rung up, the young lady will be here and she can show the little miss, or if she needs some morale support, she can bring her aunt along, but there’s a restroom in the back. Not supposed to let customers use it, but what am I going to do, send a ten year old kid out of the store in wet clothes? They can fire me if they don’t like it. It’s not like they pay top pay here.” “We’re going to see the new movie out. I think it’s Des-in-neys?” Sean and Eiboline exchanged glances. They looked sad even though Cait was every excited about seeing a Des-in-neys movie. “Do you mean a Disney?” Movie the store clerk asked. “No. They said it was Des-in-neys Erby Goes Bananas,” Cait explained. The clerk look up at Uncle. “It’s not something you want explained, trust me,” he sighed. “Just agree with her. It’s easier for now.” “Uncle? How long the movie is on?” Cait asked. “Do they have a toilet inside there? You said popcorn. How do they put popcorn in a place for a movie? And I can really have pop? But if I have pop, mom says pop makes you pee, and she say I’d pee all night in my bed!” Even as she was chattering in the car on the way there, Uncle and Auntie chuckled “Cait, slow down. You’ll see soon enough.” Cait was soon in a big backed comfortable seat she imagined is in one of those nice train or bus rides that she thinks people use sometimes to go across the country. The giant screen stretch across the forward wall so giant that she felt like she had to turn her head, and even while they talked about other programs that were going to be offered later in the summer, she couldn’t help turning her head this way and that around the entire wall. It was so huge. The sounds seem to come from right beside her, behind her, above her and everywhere. This was no television thing. She was proud of knowing how to say television. Sean on one side of her opened her twizzler red licorice thingys. She never had those before. This was going to be good. “Sean,” Auntie Eiboline whispered at him. “She’ll never finish that tub of caramel corn and that large drink!” “So?” Sean whispered back while they were getting it back at the snack area. “She doesn’t always have finish everything, does she. But she’ll have it if she wants it. She knows she won’t be in trouble for peeing, so why not let her have it?” Auntie frowned. “You are too much Sean!” “Well, what is the point of having her if we can’t spoil her?” And so the three of them sat there, the theater was so big and so grand and so… magical. And right in little girl’s lap, was her constant companion. Uncle put a safety pin on Cait’s new shirt and then he pinned the bear with a leash made from a suspender that he tied around Kookaberry in case she fell asleep, so she wouldn’t lose him if they left and forgot to look for him. “That car is driving itself!” Cait exclaimed clapping her hands and her knees got excited too, and clapped with her hands. There was one tiny small (chomp) but Cait didn’t even see the ghost or hear its whisper, so she wasn’t sure. Was it trying? It didn’t matter. The credits were starting. The car was driving itself. There was a man who was introduced. She didn’t know what his real problems were. There was a boy. He said Herby is called Ocho. She just took it all in as though there were no take backs or no parts that said another part is wrong. It was all just a car moving by itself, and it has feelings, too, just like Kookaberry. “That’s your vans name, you know,” she whispered. “It’s Dis-i-neys Erby.” Kookaberry rubbed its soft body on her arm in agreement. If another kid after the movie was asleep and if Cait should be, no… maybe it was the sugar. Maybe it was the excitement. Maybe it was that they had a boy her age in the movie. Maybe it was the car and it’s connection to her magic bear. She didn’t know. But she sat there quiet for nearly the entire movie. She felt the warm water in the seat at some point, but she looked up at the adults and she saw Uncle put an arm around her still laughing and her he knew she was wet but he didn’t ask. And she knew it was okay. The car coming apart in the end of the movie was so magical because Sean explained that cars are not like flesh of people. The car didn’t die. The engine is the car’s soul and the car can be fixed because it’s engine parts, so Herbie was okay. And Cait giggled. “You hear, Kookaberry? Your van can cut in half you have to, and you need a dep-i-a-ty to help and when you need two places, van can be two and you both go different and then you need a ga-rajee person to fix your van.” Her whispers were really low, very respectful of everyone around. Besides, these were Kookaberry’s secrets, so she can’t said it too loud anyway. When Cait felt herself peeing a second time near the end of the movie, she heard the bear (chomp) again just as Uncle Sean picked her up, and she hugged him so he knew she didn’t even pee in her sleep, but he just pat her wet butt and whispered. “What do you think about Herby?” “I can’t tell you unless you put your hand on your heart and stick out your tongue and say nah on your tongue. It means you can’t tell no body except Auntie because you tell her everything.” Chapter 32 The Heart of Darkness “I wet my pants, twice,” Cait looked up as Sean carried her out of the theater, a couple of people looked their way, but it was hard to tell if they heard, of if happenstance, it didn’t matter. (Chomp). The ghost stayed invisible for now. “But that’s okay, right Uncle Sean?” He kissed her head. “I’m glad you told me, hon. You’re learning to tell, and that will help us take better care of you. We’ll change you soon, pet. But not here. It’s too crowded in these ones. People trying to get to their seats, you understand?” The sun was nearly setting on this perfect day that Cait had with her family. No one cared or worried about her bottom, and she was still bouncing in his lap recalling a few likes like “5 and 3 make 8. Any body know that.” her voice exactly trying to match the Mexican boy and laughing. A bird is soaring over them and circles the restaurant where a whisper is cut off by (chomp) this one so tired and nearly out of just habit, it seems the whisper is barely worth Kookaberry’s time, still, he is there on guard. The door of the small building opens, and a family exits. Two toddlers and two adults. The man of the family glances and Cait’s face and smiles, but he doesn’t linger or think too much because the elder of his own two girls is tugging at his arm to be lifted up, too. The smell of Mexican spices and maybe tortillas linger at the doorway. “And then, the Chinese guy said. When come to end of book, time to close book, but then they make the car mad and the Chinese guy says… he says… he says it doesn’t close the book!” she was trying to quote the movie, but having only seen it once, she couldn’t remember all of the lines. Her legs are wet, she feels icky and sticky, and there is a lingering smell around her, but she’s not focused on that as they walk through the waiting area towards the restrooms on the other side of the restaurant. Eiboline is in close to them, her hand on Cait’s wet ankle to ground her, and her other hand carrying a bag with a change for her. A high pitched giggle in the restaurant caught Cait’s ears. She glanced around. A high pitched giggle in the restaurant caught Cait’s ears. She glanced around. And there they were. Ruth. And Billy. And their mom and dad. Ruth, still a little smaller than Cait, was pointing with wide eyes at the steam rising from a plate of fajitas someone was carrying past their table. Billy saw the same waitress, and he smiled whispered to his sister. Then, there was a moment of horror! The large boy looked just behind the waitress. There was Sean’s face. He seemed to gulp as he looked towards her. Cait looked and locked eyes with his. Her legs squeezed against Sean, and she buried her face into Sean’s neck, but she saw the boy still, through a small peephole she glance through between his chest and her hands covering her burning red face. His eyes seemed to first see the redness of her buried face or at least her hands, and then had to have seen the leash on the bear. She squeezed her legs together out of habit of anyone at school seeing. Billie moved so Cait didn’t see Ruth’s face. He whispered but she heard it carry a bit so she could just hear a little. “...thee! Keso-fun-di-do!” and she knew the sound of the excited cry of her friend from the park. Cait’s heart thumped in her chest. “Your friend will….” But though Kookaberry (chomped) he seemed to miss or the ghost just just-appeared and came back behind him. She didn’t know. But it was still talking. “...will see your wet pants now. She’ll know you lied at the park and you did pee!” “I didn’t pee,” Cait whispered with a frown. “Not then.” “You did know though,” Cait’s legs were shivering. “Oh! The gooey cheese!” she heard Ruth excitedly look to her mom though she couldn’t see Ruth’s face. “I want that!” Even as Cait was carried out of sight, she knew he had seen. The Bear on a leash, the soaked pants as his gaze dropped to her butt and legs, and her red face tucked in Sean’s chest. He saw Uncle Sean. He knew it was her. At the bathroom, she whispered up. “Come in with me, Uncle, they saw.” “Who saw, hon?” “Ruth and Billy. They know I peed my pants. At the tables over there!” She pointed in the direction, but her aim was off because she refused to look in case they looked back and were to confirm who they had seen. “Give me the bag,” Sean told Eiboline. “You go get us a number. We’ll be out soon. The girls will understand when they see Cait’s distress. And if they don’t, then shame on them.” Auntie rubbed Cait arm. “You’re safe, sweetheart.” As another woman started in with a kid a little older than Cait, Sean looked the mother in the eye. “I’m taking my little cousin in next after the last woman leaves. If you go in there, you go in there knowing I’m coming in with a scared and upset little one that needs her pants changed.” The woman gave him a glance over for a moment. “Well, you won’t need to open any doors.” “Only the stall for the little one that’s having a hard time that I am taking care of. That’s the only one.” “Then I see no issue,” and she walked in and started telling the other women in there. “A Dad is about to bring his retarded kid in here for help,” he heard it. Cait heard it. “So if anyone doesn’t want him in here with them, I suggest you leave quickly.” Ruth’s mom came into the bathroom, and not moments later and noticed that Sean, not Eiboline was in there with Cait. “Where’s Eiboline?” “Eiboh’s going to get us a table, Susan. I’m sorry to be in here like this, but Cait needed me right now.” “I’m not retarted,” Cait sniffled. “Of course not, child,” Susan frowned. “Who called you that?” “A woman that told everyone my dad was taking me in here. I don’t care that they called Uncle Sean Dad. But she said I’m retarted just cause….” and she felt the tightness in her chest she gets when she wants to cry. “You’re not retarted, sweetheart. It’s okay. Billy told me that Eiboline might need help so I came to see what I could do.” “Billy saw me,” Cait looked up at Uncle Sean. “He thinks I retarted, too.” Susan put a hand on Cait’s back. “No child, he doesn’t. He wouldn’t have told me that Eiboline needed help if he thought that.” Cait opened her hands and looked up at her. “How come?” “Because, little lady. We know some people that get that all the time. That is one term my kids will never use if I have anything to say about it.” “I peed at the movies.” “That doesn’t make you anything, but wet, little girl. Accidents sometimes happen.” “Just as I keep telling you, Cait-i-kins. People that want to gossip are not worth your trouble to think about, and people that care, ask you what happened. They don’t listen to rumors for truth.” “Billy saw,” Cait whispered. “Ruth saw. Now Ruth thinks I’m just a baby.” “No, child,” Susan frowned. “Ruth doesn’t even know anything. If Billy saw, he didn’t tell me what he saw. Of course, Ruth was right there. He just said Eiboline needed help. I thought she was crying or something. Turns out, Billy was just trying to get me to come to see if you needed help, probably.” Chapter 33 Friends Breaking Bread “The truth is, we are letting Cait have a break from toilet training at her own pace. This is a little trick though for a ten year old because of things like this,” Uncle Sean said as he pulled Cait’s pants down. “She’s just been hurt so badly and not just with physical violence.” “How does the state allow this?” Susan asked. “You hear about it all the time, raids of the state taking kids from deserving folk, and then you get something like this. So when you say take a break from toilet training?” “She’s allowed to pee or poop her pants as long as she comes to get help afterwards. She’s just… it’s not going to do anything to force her to use the toilet until she feels safe, and she’s still got a ways to go, as you just heard her fear about Ruth and what she might think.” “Poor child.” “Well, you obviously have the little child well in hand, so I’ll just see if my family will let us have you seat with us. I know Ruth will love it, love. She’s been going on and on about you all day since yesterday afternoon, how you are HER friend that she made, and you are a big friend and not because you’re her brother’s friend. You may not realize it, but you are her first friend that her brother hasn’t in some way influenced.” “Huh?” Cait came out much more elegantly than she went into the bathroom. She wasn’t crying, she was wearing a skirt, not pants, and she was smiling as she approached Ruth’s table where Eiboline was already seated. “Cait!” she squealed. Cait took a seat next to her, and Billy got an extra chair from another table to use so Cait could sit there. “So this is your summer guest,” Todd smiled at Sean. “She’s a lovely little lady, isn’t she?” “She is,” Sean smiled. “She’s far more sensitive to the needs of others than many know. She spent hours the other day taking burrs out of dog’s fur she barely knew because the doggy was suffering, her words, I kid you not.” “What’s the Bear’s name?” Ruth asked. “Kookaberry.” “Like the song, right?” Cait smiled. “Yeah, exactly. He chomps ghosts so they don’t hurt you with their -hunting-.” Cait smelled the food around her and her stomach tightened a little. She was hungry. She wondered what people were eating. She’d never seen a place like this before. She stood up and looked over her table towards another table where they had something flat bread with melted cheese and vegetables in it. To her left a few tables along, she saw what looked like the same flat bread, but rolled and stuffed with stuff. She started to walk. At the table others were talking. “Mommy,” it seemed that Ruth was ignored for a minute because mommy was talking to Mrs. Kinsella. Cait wandered over where she saw a man eating chili beans out of a bowl with the same flat bread. “Did someone lose a child?” the man suddenly barked a little irritated. “Didn’t anyone teach you not to stare?” Cait shrugged. “Uncle Sean says you’re not important,” and she turned and walked away from him. Cait suddenly sat down with some brown people. Her Daddy wasn’t there, so she didn’t care if he approved or not. “What are you eating?” she asked the girl with red and blue hair fixings that were pretty and hair that was interesting with so many braids, it was cool. Cait didn’t realize she was missed, but Sean caught up with her, and she frowned at the people there. “I’m so sorry. She’s… It’s her first time in a restaurant. I don’t mean to make excuses. I’ll teach her….” “Hey, man, no foul no harm,” the man at the table said. “She was just curious. She was actually really respectful. She was just telling my daughter how pretty her hair was and making her smile in a way I had no heart to tell her to leave!” “Cait, hon,” Sean patted her leg. “How about we go back to our table so we can get you something to eat?” Cait’s eyes caught sight of the ghost, about to tell her how she was bothering others. Cait smiled at it and even waved. Then, as the ghost started to open it’s mouth and Kookaberry started to open it’s mouth, she shook her head the bear and she faced that silent starting sound with her own. He hugged Sean tight, and she said. “Okay, Daddy!” The ghost’s words were cut off before they were registered. The bear even seemed to do a double-look at Cait. Cait hugged Sean tighter, and she laid her head on his shoulder, and she whispered again. “Daddy.” The ghost sat there, frozen. Cait could almost see it pre-peeing its pants like she does, but then she saw it. That white almost invisible ghost stuff… but in the form of a pouring liquid that poured down between the ghost’s legs and being unreal, could only go through the floor, but it was what it was. It was the ghost that peed, not Cait. She smiled again, and she let him put her back at the table. Chapter 34 Does it supposed to Hurt to take up Space? I crawled into Grandma-Auntie’s lap and looked up at her with a small falling tight tension of sorrow in my face when Daddy Sean brought be back to the table and I hugged her while she patted my skirt bottom. I studied her for a minute, her strong weather worn wrinkles in her eyes made me feel that this was a person that I knew I could trust. Her eyes were severe, but her arms and her heart were gentle. She didn’t smile broadly like fake people. She just was, and I knew it just was to her. I was safe knowing I didn’t have to be good by not going potty in my pants sometimes. “Auntie? Was I bad for walking around?” “Now,” she used Daddy Sean’s word, and I sighed and hugged her in relief. She wasn’t mad. Auntie put Kookaberry in my arms, and she pointed at the menu around me whispering in my ear what each item on it was, and what it meats. Billy pointed around her back and shoulder to something. “I like those.” “Billy?” his mom started. “No, Susan,” Eiboline whispered. “Let him. This is what Cait needs, someone who isn’t judging her for not reading, but just telling her what he likes without judgment. I’m grateful for his advice to her. I don’t think she’s ever had Mexican before.” “Oh, in that case, Cait, you’re safer getting this. It still has hot sauce and carries some fire in it, but it’s not as hot as what I like. You can try some of mine, though, if you are curious, just….” “What if we split two or three dishes if we include Ruth?” I asked Billy. “I don’t think we’ve ever asked if they do that here,” he frowned. “They do it in Chinese places.” “They have Chinese foods places like this?” “Well, kind of,” Billy said. I looked up at Auntie-grandma. “Could we do that somehow?” “Why don’t you make sure Ruth wants to do that first,” Auntie Eiboline smiled and then we’ll see if they can give us some extra plates or something. I don’t see why they wouldn’t.” “Yeah, I want to share! Ruth came over and put an hand on Billy’s arm while she scooted in front of him to get between her mom and Eiboline so she could be next to me. “I’m already getting this one. This one if really good. It called a Chicken Fa-eight-ah.” “If I get Taco salad, Sis gets Fajitas, and then Cait gets Burritos…,” Billy talked to the table. “Maybe that’s what Dan meant by she’s trouble,” Sean chuckled. “She wants to share, and we find we need to maybe think about how to split this cost because the kids will fight over the fajitas and the burritos if we just order one a meal a piece for them.” “Well, I can order the Burritos, too,” Auntie Eiboline smiled. I could have one of those and then maybe share something with you, Sean. You know how I eat anyway.” “Well, if she does that, Ruth’s mom whispered. We can do the same with the fajita, if you don’t mind.” “I’m sorry,” I rubbed Auntie’s arm until she looked down so I could say it right because no one heard me. “What are you sorry about, pet?” “Making everyone change orders and spend too much. You can just….” “No,” Sean stood up. “Cait, you listening? No one at this table thinks you deserve that. You are not second to anyone and you don’t beat yourself up. You come to us with a problem, and we solve it, pet. If you heard my troublemaker problem in the wrong light, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that you were a problem, love.” “She does this all the time?” Ruth’s dad asked. “About a lot more than just eating out, yes. She has to learn that she can take up space and be. Someone has made her feel too small for too long.” “Daddy at home,” I whispered. “Because I bad at home. I do bad stuff all the time and get in everyone’s way. That’s why they sent me here, so I can’t be in mama’s way. She has trouble enough now with she gets a new baby this summer. And my sisters can’t change my pants this summer because they working farm and I get in their on foot.” “You are not underfoot, Cait,” Sean reached over and rubbed my hands. “You are not bad, and you need to understand that all ten year old children need help sometimes.” “I going to be eleven in November.” “Ten or eleven, Cait, you are a child, and you need as much room as anyone else to be and to grow. You are not bad.” I looked down. “I peed my pants when we came in here.” “Cait!” Billy was impatient. “I did all that work to make sure you didn’t get embarrassed and my sister and you can be on equal foot, and then you tell her that in front of her?” “Uncle Daddy Sean says if our friends want to know, they ask us. They don’t listen at ghost ship. So if Ruth asked me or she don’t ask me, how can I her believes me if I don’t tell her what happened. I did pee, so she can ask and she doesn’t need to ask someone who mean to me if I peed.” Ruth looked between her brother and then me. “Hey! You saw my friend in the restaurant and didn’t tell me?” “She looked scared sis. I… you’re not close yet. I didn’t want her to be scared to be your friend. She… she talked to you, so I… I didn’t want to scare you from her or her from you, and yeah, I saw. She looked so scared hiding her head, and I know if I did that, I’d be scared, too. So I… I tricked you to look away so she could go where the Kinsellas were taking her. I didn’t mean to… you know… hurt your feelings, sis.” “Fine. If you just did it so she didn’t cry, then I assept your pologiss.” She hugged her brother. “That the real reason you won’t stay the night? Sometimes you pee even if you didn’t at the park yesterday?” Ruth asked. “Because we have another family friend who pees, and it doesn’t matter. Mama says pee isn’t who our friend is, and it not who you are. It’s just something we all do, and a few of us do it in our pants for a while, and it’s okay.” “You think like that? But I’m older!” “So? Age nothing to do about it, and it’s not a baby problem. You know you not a baby because it make you scared or you feel like you want to hide so you know you not a baby. Baby doesn’t know it not what to do when your body and your emotion and your education worked. And if you pee pee, I can help you find clean clothes. You just need help if you pee pee. That’s the end. Then we play again.” I looked at Ruth and my eyes feeling a pin prick or several, really, I started to understand. The Kinsellas, their friends, even a kid younger than me. They don’t see Cait pees her pants. They see Cait is a fifth grader and Cait can do things maybe with help. And I smiled. “Take that, ghost,” I whispered. “We don’t walk around when we have a table,” Ruth told me. “Mom and dad says that sitting at the table is the right thing, and we shouldn’t disturb other people, but they said we don’t have to be -shut your mouth, quiet- just quiet enough that we don’t bother other people.” “That’s right,” Susan told Ruth. “Cait might just need a little help understanding. Be patient with her.” I frowned. I think Susan doesn’t really know how much I don’t know. I mean, okay, at the bars I went to in the past, it was loud and big men moved about hitting balls on a table with sticks, and they spilled beer on the floor, and they put their faces in other drunk people’s faces and shouted at them, and then they both laughed. I was always scared at those places. A fly buzzed around the light above the table. It was targeting it’s perch as though it was a smart bomb or something. It flew through the maze of heads until it tangled itself in a forest of red strawberry smelling with pink bubble bath scented hair. It crawled and it stopped. It’s feet felt the hairs right at the right spot…. Voices became muffled, and it was like the fly was now quiet, not aware of danger out there, but as if it was seeping deeper and deeper into the feelings of one little girl as time seemed to jump back to a small dingy restaurant-like place. It wasn’t as bright as the Mexican restaurant. It was so dim. A man sat in a corner of the main bar, raising his hand for another glass of that awful amber liquid that was served in a heavy glass mug. The observation made from a small round table where a single little figure pushed its little arms further into its sides to avoid touching people near the table, and she closed her legs so small that she wouldn’t trip someone walking through. Loud Country Rock was playing, people talked over other loud groups of people who were so noisy and free spirited, it was like lunch time at school, only if they let all the grades in the lunch room at the same time, had no teachers that told child voice noises that they need to get smaller, and no one stopped anyone from spitting their mean words at each other in the ohter’s faces. It was just so loud! Daddy way over there drinking that amber stuff and these people so close to the small redheaded child, seemingly unaware or just not caring that she was watching them carefully to make sure they weren’t going to suddenly spit their loud crazy talk at her, and she saw Daddy, but the path to him was so crowded with people, she could get there. “Don’t make me hunt you down,” he had warned her when she was dropped off at the table. She had been given a glass of cola and then a glass of water. But she wasn’t to move. No Matter What. “Daddy, what the bathroom…?” “Cait? What did I tell you? Look, you are already in trouble for walking out of school earlier when you stole someone’s drink, peed on the chair again, and ran off during lunch. Do you want to give me a reason to use the belt on you at home? I already have three. Now sit and not another word about it!” The darkness lifted, and the fly flew away from that head as though it wanted nothing to do with these people at this table at all. That exchange was enough, that even a fly who has no reason to understand human behavior just knew on instinct that it wanted nothing more to do with her thoughts! “How do you know if you are too loud without teachers around?” Cait asked Ruth. Ruth shrugged. “Mom and dad. They shush us and remind us about our noise if we start laughing. They don’t get too mad if the noise is by accident, and long as we listen and we get quieter before we bother anyone.” “Your mom and dad, they always sit right next to you at the restaurant?” Cait’s eyes could still see daddy on the other side of the bar drinking a glass while drunk people crowded to close to her while pee poured under the table through her too thin and too tattle-tale thin fabric, and too I want to make everyone see while the pee hits the floor and everyone draws Daddy’s look at that, rather than that they are spilling beer and throwing up all over the place and getting against Cait’s arms and legs even when she pulled in…. “Yeah. I don’t think we ever sat separate, did we Billy?” “We did once, at that ice cream party.” “Yeah, but the whole one side of the restaurant was taken up by your baseball team, and it was a pizza party, and the rules were different. You were allowed to laugh and talk loud because you won your last game of the season. That was two years ago, right?” Food started to slowly come their way, root beers, brown filled soda in plastic cups for the children surprised Cait. Restaurants have cups for kids? “Some restaurants don’t have cups for big kids like us, but then their water glasses are small enough that if you use two hands, even a first grader won’t spill,” Ruth explained. “I don’t think you ever been to fam-ly restaurants, huh?” “No,” Cait looked down. “I only ever saw spitting, mean, yelling men that sometimes played their anger on a pool table for money or they drank until the loser loses his lunch to win.” “What kind of restaurant is that?” Billy looked up at his dad. “The kind you don’t need to know anything about until you are twenty-one, kiddo.” Billy’s dad ruffled his hair, but not like where daddy’s palm always hit my head hard and made me get watered eyes, Billy laughed and looked up at him with a big smile. He liked it! “Cait,” Auntie-grandma patted my leg. “So sit by your friends so you can eat and play a little. Just follow Ruth’s lead, and you won’t be too loud, I promise. If you are, we’ll let you know the right way, hon. No shame and no fear. Remember?” “Okay.” I hugged her and then took my place between Billy and Ruth. Billy was in the chair he brought to the table when we decided we were eating with them. My underwears felt a little wet, but I didn’t care. Uncle Sean didn’t care. And I already peed earlier, so it couldn’t be because I had to go potty. Maybe it was sweat and not pre-pee. The waitress made Ruth squeal with excited-ment when she put three empty dishes on the table in front of us kids. “Requested extra dishes,” she smiled at us children. “I wish more kids shared. It would waste a lot less food, and frankly make clean up easier for me.” I blushed. She liked that we were sharing. I didn’t remember if it was my idea or Billy’s idea, or if it was Ruth’s idea, but we agreed, and our parents got involved, too so we’d all have the same fraction of the same food. I felt like I did part of that. It felt good that my friends wanted to share, and that it helped the nice waiter-girl, too. We started to eat, and everyone was talking. I had a mouth full of this bread stuff with stuffing in it that had beans and other stuff, and it was good. Billy was telling Ruth something about fourth grade, the grade she would be going into, and Auntie Eiboline was telling Susan something. I felt my legs free, not being pushed into a tiny space to not bother, but actually pushing out, even touching Ruth’s legs, but she grabbed my leg and then sat her leg over it, as if she was in my lap, kind of partway, and smiling, she took a bite and winked at me. “You touching me doesn’t bother me, Cait. I like it.” A single comment from her past whispered in her ear from fourth grade. “Girls don’t fart….” Why did the ghost say that, right now? I looked over and around. I didn’t see the ghost. I went for another bit, and then my stomach hurt. I bent at the waist. “Cait?” Ruth’s voice sounded far off. “No, no, no!” I heard myself in math as the mess ran all over my chair. “No! This isn’t math class,” I was starting feel my shoulders shake, and my butt felt fiery. I tried to put a hand back, under my skirt, trying to pinch through my underwears at my bottom, but I could already feel it… filling up! Gross slimy brown liquid spat right through the underwears and into my hand. I pulled my hand out looking at it as horri-scared, as someone who’d been shot in the stomach and looked at their hand after looking. I couldn’t hear anyone else. I felt a heaviness pushing again and my underwears were too heavy. I felt it spreading and going all over the seat. “She pooped her pants,” I think Ruth said. “She’s crying! Mommy! Stop talking1 Cait’s stomach hurts! She’s crying! She’s pooping her pants!” “Now… you will not have any friends,” the ghost put its ugly white face changing into the face of Daddy in mine. “I told you, but you decided to call Sean your Dad. Who made sure you didn’t do this in public. Now, here you are, doing it in public. Let’s see how they stop the whole restaurant seeing what you did, and let’s see them make Ruth still be your friend. Don’t even, you useless bear! I told you this would happen!” Chapter 35 Please Don’t Mad; Not Hitting Mad; Just Mad? The Bear snapped at the air, but this was too real, too loud, too messy for Kookaberry. The ghost was here, and Kookaberry couldn’t take away the runny brown mess that even got on Ruth’s shorts. “You’re bites can’t stop this, stupid bear! You’re as hopeless as that little dirty panty messer that’s not even wearing the right panties! She’s wearing boy undies like a mixed up disturbed little….” but it didn’t say. It seemed saying anything else was going too far, but it was enough. Cait’s body made a sound, and then another rush of heavy mess logged in upon and over the rest of the mess already in her underwears and there was a sicking slimy slippery sliding that poured over the seat and down to the floor. Her skirt was just ruined. She was bawling with her cleaner thumb in her mouth. She didn’t know what else to do. Sean stood up. “We have a pair of shorts your daughter can borrow. Cait just bought them today, but I’m afraid… well, Eboline can explain to Susan,” he was already reaching under Cait’s arms. “I have underwears for your child she can borrow, if it doesn’t shock Ruth or you as her parents too much. You have to understand, Cait needs special care, and she’s scared that… well, Eboline can explain it to Susan in the bathroom.” “Wait, you’re going to let our daughter wear your daughter’s new things?” Todd asked looked up surprised. “Even if it were your daughter’s mess, it would be the right thing to do, sir. But Cait feels bad getting her dirty, and while it will help your daughter get clean, it will also reinforce what I’ve been teaching Cait. We clean it up, and it’s okay. And we got your little girl dirty, so we clean her up, and both your daughter and Cait will feel better. Trust me.” Todd frowned and nodded. “New clothes?” “Why not?” Sean asked. “They’re doing what they are supposed to. They’re being worn and used by children who need them.” Sean now had messy, thumb sucking, crying, shivering, scared Cait on his hip, his heavy warm hand rubbing her back and patting her messy butt. “She’s just scared. We get both her and her friend clean, and she’ll be okay,” he told the waitress. “Well, you people take care of your families, and I’ll have your food moved to a clean table. She’s not the first little girl to make a mess on my shift.” “You don’t have to,” Sean whispered. “I’ve been teaching her to clean up after herself. She just needs to feel….” “That’s nonsense,” the waitress waved him aside. “You take care of the child. It’s my job to provide you with a pleasant clean place to eat, and that’s exactly what I’ll do. It’s no trouble.” Cait was still bawling and couldn’t stop. She hated the ghost, her body, the whole thing. She couldn’t look at Ruth or Billy. She kept her eyes closed hoping not to see anyone look at her like… “You know, this is too far. We’ll be nice to you for our parents, but it’s over. You had no right to poop on me/ my sister. You’re not right.” A soft hand touched her arm, but she pulled it away not wanting fake comfort from a girl that was definitely just humiliated by her and grossed on by her. She didn’t need the younger child’s fake pity. Kookaberry seemed to hear something though. (Snap) It’s gnashing teeth were weak sounding and soft, but it was still there. He heard something. The Ghost stilled for a second. A second attempt a smaller hand on her dirty leg grabbed her ankle. “I’m not letting go.” sounded like it was underwater. It was muffled, another trick of the ghost trying to suppress what was there, but a light soft warm hand seemed to anchor to her ankle, and it wouldn’t drop even though Cait kicked at her feet at the fake pity. A very faint whisper, but the voice of the one that has been real with her since she found him, Kookiberry asked. “If it was fake… why is she touching your poop? Her hand is on your foot with poop on it.” Cait opened her eyes. They were walking through the restaurant towards the bathroom. Auntie wasn’t there. She was somewhere, but she wasn’t there. Around them, she saw Ruth holding her ankle, and though her dad tried to pull at her waist to lift her, she pushed his hand away. “Cait’s the one crying. I’m not letting go of her. She’s my friend. I’m not letting her think I’m not. I’m not. I’m not. I’m not!” As they opened the door to the men’s room this time, Todd looked at Billy. “Bill? Cait doesn’t want you watching her being dressed. Go in the toilet and use it.” “The urinals….” “Bill…,” Todd frowned at his son. “I know. But this time, just go in the toilet and use it, and stay there until I say otherwise. You care about this little girl, don’t you?” “Yeah,” Kookiberry could hear the resentment in his voice, but it wasn’t against his dad, and it wasn’t exactly against Cait either. It was… that he couldn’t help her, but Kookiberry told Cait that it wouldn’t be right. He’s not old enough to help with a mess like this, and his heart is right, but his actions are no needed. He likes you though.” Cait looked over where Billy shut the bathroom stall and she assumed was getting ready use the toilet. “Where’s Auntie-grandma?” Cait’s blurry eyes tried to focus on Sean. “She’s getting you and your friend some of your clean clothes. I told Ruth she could wear your shorts so she could be clean, too.” “Okay,” Cait breathed. “Good.” Her crying was forgotten for a minute. “I pooped my pants like last month,” Ruth looked at where Sean was still holding her. “It was at church and everything. Some of the other older kids yelled at me for it, and even two of the church ladies. I was crying. Mom told them to stop it. She said I’m a little girl that had an accident, and if their God punishes a baby for pooping her pants, then their Gods weren’t the same.” I looked down at her blurry form, my tears still trying to not let me see. Maybe it was the ghost again. “Your mom called you a baby?” “Yeah. But she only said that cause I was nine and the woman was way older and she was making a point that you don’t be mean to a kid that didn’t mean to have an accident even at church.” “And you’re really not… you know… mad that I got you dirty?” “It’s just stuff,” she shrugged. “I have to take a bath anyway when we get home. And your Uncle….” “No. My daddy,” I pulled tighter into Uncle Sean. “Sorry. Your daddy said I can wear your new shorts. I hope you’re not mad about that.” “I got you dirty. Why can I be mad when it’s my fault you’re dirty?” “No….” Ruth slapped her foot much like Sean popped her on the butt the other day when she called herself stupid, Cait remembered. Only Sean’s pop didn’t hurt because Sean chose not to have it hurt, and Ruth couldn’t really spank her, especially not on the ankle, but the message was the same. “Cut it out, Cait! You’re blaming and hurting yourself, and you’re wrong!” “You didn’t choose to poop your pants, Cait. If you did, you wouldn’t be bawling your heart out and sucking your thumb earlier! You got scared and everything! Something made it happen, just like what happened to me at church, and if your God makes you cry after you already got scared and punished for pooping, then he’s not my God, just like Mommy told that woman!” “I pooped my pants, and I’m ten,” Cait frowned. The energy for self hate now dissolved in front of a younger child who just saw no reason to let her be in that place. “So? I pooped my pants, and I’m nine,” Ruth whispered. “Think one year makes it okay if you can’t do it, but I can?” “I guess not,” Cait remembered getting it far earlier than being nine when she made mistakes. “Now, no more thinking about the mess on me. You get your daddy to put you down and you do what I do. You can do this. I know you can. You bigger than me, and I took off my own poopy panties at church.” “Now, wash your hands, first. You icky cause you tried to keep from pooping your pants. I did the same thing. I know how it feels and it’s gonna be gross, but we’re changing our clothes together, so we can be gross together. It’s okay.” While Ruth was taking off her messy shorts and leading Cait to take off her skirt, she saw the strange underwear. Cait looked down at the messy underpants and then up at Ruth, her finger on her lip. Ruth didn’t get mad about pooping her pants…. “You might not know,” Ruth sounded like she was being slow and trying to see how Cait felt as she said at each word. “But… those panties… Well, their made… not exactly… for girls.” “They hold pee better,” Cait felt her face flush. “When I’m almost going to pee my pants and trying to not let it get in my pants all the way because I want to be a big kid… they help with an extra second or two.” “Oh. Okay,” Ruth nodded. “If you wearing it because that, then I don’t care.” And then clothes were handed in at them while there was commotion outside, a firm stance by the two mothers. “Our children’s father are taking care of girls in there right now, and adult men can wait a few minutes. We’ll let little children boys in the girls’ room…” could be heard. Chapter 36 Wardrobe Division “She’s my friend… my friend… friend….” echoed in the darkness. A light soft hand grasped her ankle and didn’t let go. “I won’t… won’t… won’t….” The heavy stomach and thick slick sludge grunge dirty shorts and boy underwears out where everyone can see. Dirty underwears sticking it’s ooze on Cait’s legs and the shorts wet and sick on her friend, but the face is blurred, and the echoes continue. “...friend….” The rustle of blankets and sheets pushed back and away from a soaking wet pair of boy underpants that covered the middle of a pair of legs. A delicate hand touched the wetness in the underwears, confirming and somehow knowing this is normal, and the little body sat up. “You peed in the little boy’s bed,” she heard a whisper in the dark. “You peed the bed.” “I always pee the bed,” the little girl felt her mouth forming words, her throat working for the air it took to form those words, and her chest moving up and down as she looked around the dim room. The curtain was pulled back just enough that light was starting to break through the heavy fog of her dreams. “I’m not in trouble. Daddy’s not here.” There was no answer in the darkness to that. On the floor Kookaberry had fallen in the night, but it’s rescue line was still attacked to Cait’s pajamas. She didn’t change last night. Uncle Sean… Daddy… he changed Cait in the bathroom and Ruth’s dad wasn’t mad that he was changing Ruth, and Ruth was still smiling not only in the bathroom where she was being put in a pair of Cait’s new shorts that were just bought for her, but she was smiling through the rest of dinner. Billy was joking. Ruth got in Cait’s lap even after that, and hugged her and said that this little pissy and poopy pants… well, she didn’t even say pissy or poopy pants… she left that part out. She said: “This big girl is the best big girl in the whole big wide world, and I hope she stays the night soon.” “You were wrong,” Cait whispered into the darkness as she pulled Kookaberry’s leash until she could reach him and pull him into her chest. “You and your master, you are both wrong,” Cait whispered a little stronger into the dark. “Ruth didn’t leave just because I was bad.” “You’re not bad,” Kookaberry told me. “Remember? Daddy Sean says you just not potty trained, and he’s not going to potty train you until you ready, and not being ready is not the same as being bad. Remember?” “Yeah,” Cait frowned. “I be-membered. He says I am a big girl, but I just need time. He said it’s just water, and even the messes are just something to clean up, and not so important. He said to get him if I pee. I don’t want to though.” “He won’t be mad if you lie here and even go back to sleep,” Kookaberry whispered. “He knows it’s still scary for you to fully pee your pants. He won’t spank if you don’t do every single rule he makes. He only popped you once. The only thing he spanks for, is you saying the word s-t-o-o-p-i-t. If you don’t say that work, he doesn’t spank.” Cait nodded at the large empty room where no one could hear the conversation she was having. There were no ghost and no Kookiberry-s in Sean and Eiboline’s heads. There were no ghosts and no Kookiberrys in Billy’s head. It was just Cait who heard them, and her whispers in answers to them were just little mumbled mutterings that no one could even hear if they put a hand on her throat when she muttered. It was just the conversation in her head, and the room sat motionless and still, not watching her. The dog’s eyes were still watching the farm and its, now silent to Cait, words were directed in barks at the bigger animals in their neat little fences. The colt wasn’t standing scared too far from the mother horse. No, the colt, that had on invisible poopy panties a few days ago, was laughing today. She was teasing her mommy and her mommy was partly looking at the dog and partly at her. Did Cait move the mommy’s body so it looked different the day before? If she did, Eiboline forgot to correct it. “Your mommy loves you,” Cait whispered to the colt. “Your mommy is there even if you have trouble, and no matter how many fences there are, and if you get too tired to jump them, your mommy will charge over to you, not to tell you that you were bad, but tell you how proud she is that you got as far as you did before….” Warmth spread out of Cait and into the bed. She squeezed her legs together out of Habit. Water gathered in her eyes out of Habit, but Kookiberry hugged her tighter, or she hugged the bear. Did it matter? Hugging the bear ever tighter, the pee in her pants got soggier until she fully peed again, after she had already wet the bed in the night. But she wasn’t scared. Daddy said to get him. Not the crop farm daddy, but the Dairy farm daddy, the one that slept down the hall, he said to get him. “We have to get Daddy,” Cait told the bear. “After you finish peeing where you are,” she heard a dark voice in her head. Cait gritted her teeth and she frowned right at the window where the voice came from. “No.” She got out of bed, pee sliding down her legs a bit and she started into the hall. It was a rule that played in her head. “Stay where you are—Come and get me.” It was the old and the new, and she was listening, with Kookaberry, (chomp) Kookaberry hugging her tight while she felt pee splattering on the floor every few steps until she was outside the bedroom door, and she pushed the door… she touched the fence. She touched the boundary, and it didn’t hurt. “Uncle?” She felt the last of the flood push itself through her pajamas and wet the floor at the door. “Daddy? Uncle-Daddy? Are you in here? Are you awake?” The blankets moved, and I saw Auntie-grandma. “He’s already outside, Cait. Do need help?” “I want daddy!” and Cait ran from the bedroom, down the stairs, and to the kitchen door. She hadn’t been let outside on her own yet. Uncle was supposed to be making it safe out there. “Even if your new Daddy will carry you, Cait, if you go out there, and there are snakes all over the ground he is cleaning up… you will get bitten. That will be worse than old Daddy’s belt. Cait stood there, frozen. The sounds of Auntie’s slippers whispered across the floor as she approached the kitchen and she frowned at Cait’s hand reaching for the door. Her pajamas were still dripping and she turned to see her Auntie there. “The snakes are out there, wanderer,” the ghost used old daddy’s words against her. “You know that’s why Uncle Sean doesn’t want you out there right now, and why Daddy would get upset every time you leave the house without supervision back home.” “I want Daddy,” Cait whispered. “I know, Pet,” Auntie didn’t correct her. By now, Cait was sure Auntie knew she was starting to call Uncle Sean, Daddy. “But Daddy wants you to stay inside a few more days unless you are with Auntie Eiboline. He just doesn’t want something bad to happen.” There was a tear that ran down her left cheek. “Stay inside, child. I promise you, he’ll be right back after feeding the animals. When he’s got the farm ready for you, he’ll let you wander a little more, as long as you follow the rules.” Cait wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard a little more in a whisper after that. “We just don’t want it to happen again.” Those words were like Sand in a flour sifter though. They were lost the moment she whispered, and Cait couldn’t quite make out if she actually said it, or if the ghost was playing tricks on her. Auntie had turned her back to Cait for a moment, which made the words even harder to have been heard. She was looking out the window. “Okay.” Cait took what they said at face value because they had been there for her every time she had needed them, and they had let her play at the park and make a friend, and they had taken her to the restaurant and they controlled everything. So, if Sean knows this farm so very well… he must know something she didn’t. Auntie took a deep breath as she turned away from the unseen cross, from where Cait could only guess, might have been the direction of that un-rul-ie haircut of a field inside a fence, but whether that is where she was looking, Cait didn’t know. The sound of a heavy snort of some large animal seemed to breathe through the (win-doe) window as Auntie finally turned to Cait, her eyes still shining from something…. “I know what might help make you feel better, Pet.” “Yeah?” “How about you clean it up?” Auntie’s still misty eyes danced in their round homes at Cait in a mesmerizing appeal. “Remember a couple of days ago, when you cleaned up the mess?” “Yeah…,” Cait started to process what Auntie was trying to have her think about. “Remember how good you felt? Maybe if you clean up the dirty water on your own, you’ll feel better.” “What… what do I use?” Cait felt her hands and her heart racing. Auntie was telling her. I don’t want you to do it for me…. I want you to feel free of it. “You have your stuff in the bedroom where we put it. Just clean the carpet by your door, by the bathroom, and then by our bedroom. That’s where it really shows. Then after you’d done that, then you can decide if you want me to give you a bath, or if you want to wait for Uncle to come in after he feeds the animals. How would that be?” “Okay.” Auntie turned from Cait, trying to give her a little bit of trust that she could do this without her explicit instructions. Cait started to walk away. “You’re gonna mess (Chomp).” “Don’t listen to the ghost. Cait? Auntie trusts you. If she didn’t think you were able, she’d come up and help you. You understand that Auntie is trying to help you in a way that’s stronger than if there’s pee on the floor or not, right?” Cait shrugged. “I still want Daddy Sean though.” Kookiberry just looked up at her from her arms. He stared at her like he expected her to try, so Cait took a breath. “I’ll do it, then.” Cait scrubbed and scrubbed, still seeing a faint yellow stain though most kids her age would have thought the stain was gone long before then. Kookaberry didn’t stop her. He didn’t know what clean was. He was just a bear, so he had to trust Cait to stop when she felt it was good. Cait was still looking at the faint yellowness that neither Kookaberry nor Sean, and admittedly, the ghost had stopped talking about long before Sean’s first creaks on the last three steps of the top of the stairs finally drew Cait’s head his way. The stains in front of the bathroom and her own bedroom were still there. “Cait-a-kins? What are you doing, love?” “The pee. It won’t come out.” Sean frowned with a sigh. “I won’t? Is it stuck on the floor or is it stuck in your eyes, little one? Because I don’t see anything but a wet carpet in front of the door.” “What about right there?” Cait pointed at a yellow ring so faint and so hard to fully follow around it’s extended reach, even an ant would end up missing the edge if it was trying to follow it. “Cait. Up you go,” Sean didn’t let her argue. “You cleaned this one up as much as it needs doing. It’s breakfast, so let’s get your hands washed and you in some clean clothes. Is that alright?” “Okay.” Uncle Sean settled a now fully dressed in farm clothes, jeans and plaid shirt, Cait, and Auntie served her a bowl of oatmeal. “She’s not ready to clean the messes by herself,” Uncle Sean told Auntie. And it’s nothing to do with how clean she’ll get it. She doesn’t know when it’s clean enough. She was scrubbing the floor in front of our door since you sent her up there to clean it, and I didn’t see anything wrong with the floor, but her little eyes still saw the stain as clear as day, a stain that wasn’t there, Eiboh.” “Oh, my. She was taught how to clean the stain yesterday, and she seemed relieved to have cleaned it up herself.” “Well, I’m not saying not let her do it. I’m saying she needs checked on and supervised, or she’ll be up there all day still scrubbing long after the stain is gone.” “I’m so sorry, Cait. I should have checked on you. Next time, when Auntie lets you do it, we do it together, alright, pet?” Cait looked down. “I just didn’t want you to think I’m dirty and leave the mess when you let me clean it up.” “We would never think that, child,” Uncle Sean patted her very dry and clean bottom. “Now, sit and eat. I’ll have the farm ready for you by the end of the workday today, if all goes well, then this evening we can take a quick walk through so I can show you where you are allowed to wander and be as safe as I could make it for you. You’ll still have to learn to watch the animals though, so for a few days, you won’t be allowed to wander on your own until I know you are paying attention to the animals, though.” “Okay.”

Chapter 24 It Doesn’t Matter Uncle Sean came from the fields his face hot with red sun deep and just water pouring from his face, body water. What it called? Swat? And he paused and smiled at me. “I’m just going up to wash, Cait. You want to come up and help me wash my face?” “How come you need help?” Cait’s grasp tightened on Kookaberry. “Well, I didn’t mean I need it, but I do like you being there, maybe like you liked me being there when you peed in the potty this morning?” “He’s teasing you, Cait,” the darker presence whispered. “He’s making fun of you making him make sure. He wants you to pee your pants s he can tell your Daddy that he saw you do it, too.” “You wrong.” “Yeah? When have you had to watch anyone wash their hands. Usually, they wash your hands for you because you’re a baby that can’t stay clean. They check your panties, too, make you pull them right down so they can see inside for pre-pees, so they can accuse you of peeing your pants! I think Daddy told Sean to check your pre-pees, only he calls it just secretly peeing.” “Daddy doesn’t know I have pre-pees. He never saw that!” “Then what did he see last week in your panties?” “I peed them, outside, be membered? I pulled my skirt from them so I could pee on the ground. I peed my panties fully. That’s what he found!” “Still could have been pre-pees.” “No. Pre-pees are just felt. They not seen or smelled. Only I know when it happened because I trying not to pee.” “If you say so…,” the ghost popped out as Uncle Sean lifted her up. “Why do you look so serious, Cait?” he asked her. “Are you having a serious talk with Kookaberry?” “Something like that,” Cait whispered looking up at him. “Something like that?” Uncle Sean asked. “What do you mean, sweetheart?” “Well, it’s just trying to think of stuff right.” “Do you want to try to sit on the potty while I’m washing my face and see if you can pee there?” “Okay.” A few minutes later, after Uncle Sean had gotten her hands clean, too, she was sitting at the table, Ajax in his usual spot that was designated for him, and Cait across from Sean at the table with some juice poured for all three of them. The sandwich sat in front of Cait, but she didn’t reach for it right away. Her hands were folded in her lap… pressing into the damp warmth of between her legs. Sean raised his sandwich to his mouth. The scene of the table angled out, and at the same time as he took a bite, his hands holding his sandwich with both, the blur function blurs his angle and then shows Cait, the timing the same, doing the same. Auntie smiled from the end of the table that was closest to cooking and serving. Sean smiled to the small girl trying to help her through this. “We will go to the Park. Cait? How well do you read a clock? Do you know anything about reading one?” “Yeah,” Cait looked down in shame. “No, none of that,” Sean said strictly. “I wasn’t asking to hurt you. I wanted to know if you would understand something.” Cait looked up at him, her left ear slightly higher than her right ear because she tilted her head like a dog does when it seems to want something or doesn’t understand something. “What?” He tucked the last of his sandwich into his mouth. “Well, Can you tell me where the hands would be if I were to say four thirty?” “Yeah. The Ohs and the thirties are the places that the clock makes sense. The big hand is straight up for ohs, and it’s on thirties for straight down, and the little hand is on or just after the number you are saying as the hour. Right?” “Good. So, I’ll come in at around four-thirty, and we should be at the park by five-fifteen if you are already ready to go.” “I can’t read fifteen.” “Well, we’ll be driving and then arriving at that time anyway if it works out, so you won’t need a clock. I just want you to watch for the clock to have the hands so it says four-thirty. If I’m a little late, the big hand shouldn’t be past the 8 after reading four thirty. Understand?” “Yeah! So you want me to do something by then?” “Do you think they really want to take a pee pee pants like you to the park?” the ghost asked her. You always forget, you know. You’ll mess up and pee your pants, and then they’ll be upset that they have to explain to everyone that they let you do this. It’s your fault, but you’ll make it seem like they did something wrong… like you always do.” Cait squeezed her legs together under the table. She didn’t have to go—not yet—but she was still afraid, somehow, that if she were checked, there would be wet panties on her, and that maybe even if she hadn’t had a pre-pee now, that she felt, that somehow, she may still have wet panties. Her panties were always damp. The juice on the table set out in front of her was looking very enticing and delicious. “Try to go potty once more, make sure your front room city is contained in the space I asked you to keep it so it doesn’t get stepped on, and have clothes on you want to play in so we don’t have to wait for you to get dressed. Can you remind your aunt when the hands are little at the four and the big one on the three?” “Okay!” “Drink up, pet,” Auntie Eiboline whispered. “It’s warm out today.” “Famous last words…,” the ghost whispered as Cait’s eyes fell upon the bubbles and slippery wet from the hot against the cold glass reminding her of something like the glass having pre-pees. Cait’s mouth was dry, and her stomach felt like it was was jumping into her chest. Juice was liquid. Liquid as inside water. Inside water becomes the bad. “Miss potty pants will go to the park, and when you find out there are to toilets there, or maybe they are not where you are playing, you’ll never make it where they are. You will shame these people, and then they will know what your Daddy has been saying.” Kookaberry’s paw rubbed her arm. “Lies,” Kookaberry whispered. “Lies dressed around one true and painful thing. But still lies. Auntie? She will shrug when you pee your pants and Uncle Sean, will pick you up, just like last night in the bath. Just remember last night, and then you tell me they will care if you pee your pants!” Cait looked up at Uncle Sean. “I pee my pants at the park sometimes….” “And…?” he whispered. Cait frowned and studied his curly white and gray hair. He studied his face lines, and she studied his hands. He seemed fully relaxed. “What small child hasn’t at one time or another?” “But, I’m ten. People will look at you.” Auntie pushed her juice glass closer to her. “No one should be looking that carefully at a playing kid’s jeans to see anything other than a sweaty face that is laughing and running around? No one in this room cares if you happen to wet your pants,” Auntie smiled. “Unless…,” Uncle frowned at her. “...it makes our little lass cry. But if you feel bad or get upset you peed, you come and tell Uncle Sean, and we’ll get you safe as soon as we can, little angel.” “But they’ll say you let me,” Cait whispered to the table top. “That’s right, isn’t it, Cait?” the ghost echoed her fear. “The other big people will make Uncle need to hit you, to keep his reputation or will make Auntie remind you of why you needed to be smacked, for doing something that could get their farm take away. And your Daddy told him, didn’t he? He said you’d eat them out of a home, and if they take away the farm….” “If they said we let you, Cait, then I’d agree with them,” Auntie Eiboline frowned. “Better we let you pee than we shame you into hurting yourself. Pee isn’t meant to stay in your body forever. If you get scared and it comes out… at least it comes out.” Uncle pushed at the glass closer to her, and Cait saw the puddle on the table, as if the glass had just peed down its legs and made a puddle. She glanced back up at Uncle Sean. “It’s okay, little lady. You need to drink up. It’s not good for you to go thirsty for nonsense like you might pee,” Uncle Sean frowned. “You might, but Cait, even if you don’t drink, you might pee. People pee whether they drink or not. The thing is, if you don’t drink enough it makes it worse.” “It does?” “It does. And if you are worried about what people will say about us, imagine how much more we’d need to explain if you passed out because we denied you the right to be healthy? Peeing is nothing in the big universe Cait.” “In the… Yunibas-ity?” Cait tried to catch the big word. The endless night in the stars above when she had seen the night sky on the few times she tried to slip away before light to think in the past, she would wonder at the (Yunibas-ity). “If we are God’s favorite? Why is humans so mall in the night?” She often wondered that, and the idea of Aunti saying that peeing is nothing in the big (Yunibas-ity), she wondered. “Is that why I don’t matter? I just a pee pee?” “Cait,” Uncle Sean leaned in. “God made your head to look up at the sky, and where did he put your head?” “Up here, on my top?” “And Cait? If God cared so much about pee being seen, well, think. When you are sitting for a while and no one has seen it… has anyone come up to you and asked you if you peed your pants unless they were there close to the time you did?” Cait tapped her finger on her chin. “No?” “If pee is hidden down your legs, and it dries out, but your head is always on your shoulders and the easiest place for others to see, what do you think God cares more about?” Cait shrugged. “You are shrugging, but you know what he means,” Kookaberry rubbed her hand, or did Cait rub the bear’s paw? Did it matter. “You know he’s right. The ghost is wrong. Drink the juice, Cait. If they were cruel and blamed you after drinking the juice, then you can throw me for lying.” “You’re Ajax. You don’t lie.” “Then trust me and do what your Aunt says. The ghost is a liar, Cait.” “Okay.” Can Cait took a big drink, but then she looked at the clock. 12-5. It was almost 12:30. Cait looked at the clock, and she knew he wanted her ready at the 4 and the 3. So she broke the time down. 12-3, 1-3, 2-3, 3-3,and 4-3. So the middle is 2-3. She looked over at Auntie. “If I set your clock in the bedroom for 2-3, would that mess it up on you?” “Two-three?” Auntie Eiboline asked. “Yeah, so I can start trying to pee, so I keeping promise with Uncle Sean. He asked two things. One is go pee one more and to change clothes at 4-3. So I can do it, but 2-3 is middle. I forget sometimes at the middle.” “We all, do, Cait,” Auntie Eiboline smiled. “We all do. And yes, I’ll set it for you if you promise to turn it off after it starts making sounds.” “I promise.” 12-7 Uncle went out to the animals again. I went with Auntie so she could show me how to turn on and off the button that makes the noise, and she showed me she was setting the alarm, but the setting was really confusing. Auntie rubbed my back. “One thing at a time, Cait. I just wanted you to understand, I am setting it like you asked.” “But I already know you would?” Cait said puzzled that Auntie had to prove herself doing what she promised. She’s a big person. Cait knows she knows how, and even if maybe she accidentally lied once or twice, and Cait can’t even remember when, she knew that Auntie lied a lot less than Daddy did, and most times than not, it wasn’t a lie, it was a she think-ed something, and it wrong, and she still said she sorry about it. She also told the truth it wasn’t what she think-ed it.” Auntie let me play, but what I did first, at 1-12, was I carefully moved any blocks that moved out of the play space Uncle Sean gave me in the front room back where he told me to have it. That way, later, if I forget, I still did it at least once, and maybe not as many buildings will be in the wrong place. I called from the living room. “Do people go to the park?” I asked as I knew Auntie was doing something in the kitchen. “They do, Cait,” she called back and even came to the living room doorway to check on me. “But I can’t promise when they’ll be there or won’t. People have their own lives, still, I do know one park that is used a lot by children. We’ll try that one first.” “Maybe if I can make a friend, we can play in the living room together with the little front room town?” Cait looked over at Auntie with child wonder and innocence. “I’m sure we can set up some play dates if you want to play with someone. But let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. Sometimes, it takes more than one day to make a friend, you know.” “Yeah, specially me.” “What does that mean, Cait?” “I only meant people don’t like me. I cause trouble and I stink.” “Cait. You don’t stink. Not really. And if someone doesn’t want to be your friend, they can come up with a number of reasons. And if someone wants to be your friend, they aren’t going to mind if you have some problems that you struggle with. That’s what you need to learn about people and friends. You don’t earn friends, Cait. You get friends because you are a friend. You show you care, and they show they care.” Cait looked down. “Okay.” “You haven’t experienced it that way I suppose,” Auntie frowned. “Well, kids can be judgmental and the harsher their parents are on other people, the harsher the kids judge. It’s learned behavior.” Cait turned back to her town and started to play. Auntie was way over her head right now, and she just wanted to play again. Cait looked at the clock at 2-7. The alarm! She ran out of the living room and started up the stairs where she saw Auntie. “I tried to get there. I saw the hand on the 7. I know I was supposed to go at 2-3. I sorry.” “It’s okay, Cait. Do you need clean underwear?” “No. But can I go?” “Yes, Cait. You go ahead. I took care of the clock. You missed the alarm this time, but if you ask, we can set it another time and try again. Missing it once isn’t failure. It just means we need to learn to judge time a little more closely, but after two hours, that isn’t even easy for Auntie sometimes.” “Okay.” Cait went into the bathroom and sat on the toilet for a minute, but as she sat there, thinking, and looking into her dry underwears, she scolded herself. “You can’t make a promise and break it. You better pee, stupid body. You can’t let Auntie down. You (be-er) not let Uncle down too!” Her body shivered. It was dried up inside. The stains in the underpants she had hanging off her knees told the tale of each of the other three times she’d been to the toilet this morning, the dampness that barely touched her skin the first time, the three or four little squirts the second time, and the two little almost too late pitter patter piddles the third time. “Come on… pee,” she whispered to her little body. “You don’t want to make Uncle mad by lying, do you? You upset Auntie. You promised to turn off the alarm. You’re like 4 whole numbers late to sit on the toilet. How come there’s not even any pre-pee in the underwears?” Still her body stayed quiet and still with only dryness in response. “Fine. We try again at 3-3, and you better go!” She stood up shimming her underwear up, but this time, she left the bathroom without her pants. “And you know the rule. You don’t take a your turn to pee, then you don’t get to wear pants! That’s Daddy’s rule, and we following it because you bad girl!” “At least you remembered the rule,” a voice from the dark shadows came. “But what good is the rule if no one will hit you for it?” Cait froze. “So, what I do?” “Daddy used to do something. Maybe you forgot?” “Cold bath with my disgusting underwears on? I can do that, if I pee my pants at the park after I don’t go. But I gonna try to go before 4-3.” She pulled the pants all the way off and draped them over the tub. Then she ran down to the living room in just underwear. “And if you don’t go at 3-3, I’m taking off my shirt,” she warned her stubborn little body so the ghost could hear her. The ghost stood in the living room door. “I don’t know why you threatened about being naked. You know its’ okay with your body to be naked. He doesn’t make you scared the same way Daddy does.” “Stop it. I said I sit in cold water in the bath. What else can I do?” “What’s weird about daddy likes to hit you when you’re naked because you know that naked means you were bad, but Sean doesn’t hit? He’ll probably say something like you didn’t need to do that or something that means you not bad at all.” “But I know what it means to be naked in the house in the day. It still means I was bad.” The ghost shrugged. “Okay… but don’t say I didn’t warn you if you don’t pee at 3-3!” Cait sat on the floor, looking from the television to the clock every few minutes, the desire to play front room city was not in her. She could only hold Cookaberry close to her chest, and she even tried to push to see if any piddles would dribble into her underwear so she knew it was time to go, but her underwear remained stubbornly dry. Three-twelve. She sat there watching television and the clock. “Three more numbers,” she warned her body. There was some commercial about a toy that stretched on television. The block city was still back behind the line that Uncle had given her. It was the only thing she had obeyed since he went out to the field. She had one little hand and three more big hands to get her body to obey. So the alarm would be the only thing she messed up. Four-twelve, and her underwears were still dry and she was still holding her Bear. Where did the time go. “Stupid body!” she scolded herself. “Pee! You hear me, pee. Just do it fully in your underpants, but pee!” Still, no pee came out. “Stupid!” she told herself. Four-one, and Auntie came in. “Cait, what are you doing without any pants on?” “Trying to make my body behave!” “What do you mean?” “Well, at home, when my body doesn’t go pee when daddy gives me a turn to go, he takes off my pants as punishment for trying to pee my pants. I took off my pants as punishment because I didn’t turn off the alarm, and my body won’t even pee in the underwear yet, and so sitting on the toilet is just going to take it up if you want to go. I keep trying but it keeps being dry and no nothing at all. I was supposed to take off my shirt. I forgot.” “Cait, you don’t take off your clothes because your body won’t pee on demand. We aren’t made that way. It’s something you have to answer, not something you can decide when to go.” Cait looked up at her. “Daddy makes the other girls do it, and they can do it. I’m the only one that’s stupid and doesn’t go when I need to before we take a trip that’s more than an hour.” Eiboline sighed. “Cait, your father’s rules don’t work here. They are harmful to you, and this is just not right. Come here, little one. Let’s go get some play clothes on you.” “And if I pee before we leave the house?” “You’ll be left behind,” the ghost whispered. Cait’s eyes looked from the corner where the whispers came and to her Aunt’s eyes. Auntie twitched a little and blinked. It was like she was confused that Cait would worry about it. But eventually, with a small sad choke as she looked out into the fields through the kitchen window… off to the small patch of field that was untrained, she gulped and then answered. It was like she was bracing for it, but not the same way Daddy readies a belt. “Then we put something else on you. But you wear clothes Cait. Being naked will not make you have to go pee if you don’t need to go. I am sorry. Your uncle and I must have put too much pressure on you. We shouldn’t have asked you to pee before going to the park.” Suddenly, Cait felt herself being pulled into Auntie’s embrace and she was kissed on the head. “Please stop worrying about if you pee, pet. It’s not that important to stay dry. It’s only important how you feel, child.”

Chapter twenty-two They left me… just the way I was They loved me… just the way I was Cait had been carried to bed in her sleep the night before, so she had not felt the significance that tonight… she was being taken to bed in Sean’s arms, and her underwears… they were not starting the night wet for once. The ghost can’t even tell her that she wasn’t wet last night when she went to bed because it was gone, too. Cait was fully asleep at that point. Cait hugged Uncle Sean, and she whispered. “I wished I could sleep between my mommy and daddy sometimes. But I’m ten.” Sean frowned. “Are you serious, pet?” I looked up at him. “Am I being a baby?” “Not at all, child. I think I asked my dad to sleep in his room sometimes until I turned maybe thirteen. It’s natural, especially when you are uncertain or scared. I’m sorry I’m not your dad, but maybe we can just substitute, just this once?” “You’d do that?” “Let me ask your Auntie,” Uncle Sean patted my butt. “I have to make sure we don’t over step anything your Aunt has to explain first.” “Oh, I don’t want to make trouble. I can sleep in my own bed.” Uncle Sean patted my butt, and getting my bear, he walked us into the kitchen. “Eiboh? Cait’s feeling a little lonely tonight? I don’t suppose it would be difficult explaining to your cousin that she needed to sleep with us one night, would it?” “You think I care what that son of ….” she pauses as she notice my eyes were not quite closed. “I’ll explain it to Maire. She won’t mind. And well, she can explain how to be a father to her father if he doesn’t like it.” “See, sweetie? It’s not so scary just to ask. If Auntie didn’t want to deal with it, she’s just say no, and that’d be the end of it, but she said we could. So, come back to the living room since we are going to be in the same bed anyway. I’ll just hold you a little longer.” “I pee the bed, remember?” He patted her butt. “Now.” Cait seemed to breathe easily all night. Her arms and legs were nearly motionless. Her eyes stayed closed, and the darkness didn’t seep into the room at all. Out the window from where the three figures lie, an adult slender woman turned to her side, one hand over the middle and the heavier bigger form but shorter than the elegant slender taller one. It was on it’s back. And snuggled between them, a little shorter one clutched a bear in the crook of her arm, her thumb fully in her mouth, but her mouth hung open in a state of heavy breathing, and from there we soar up to the moon, and then riding its ray of light in all of its glory down into a moment of yesteryear. Cait was very little then, maybe five or six years old, maybe even smaller. She was sitting on a bench and had her thumb in her mouth looking around at all these big people in an office. It was the same elementary school she came out of fourth grade, for sure. She knew the offices well from going there all the time. Second grade… she heard something in the background. “That’s when Mr. Ivorson told Daddy that you purposefully that ‘but’ is a bad word and that you weren’t going to get in trouble for saying it when you were reading and got everyone laughing and acting crazy, be member? Some of the others starting saying the other word for butt that same week and then Daddy had to come and take you out of school for the day and you got in trouble for mixing up a word on purpose!” The dream faded. “I pee my pants, remember?” and Uncle Sean just said, “Now.” And around the house the night quiet sounds of nature soft and there in presence, but never intrusive, didn’t wake Cait until she felt the bed shifted and Uncle Sean was sitting up. “Hey pet,” he whispered as the more elegant form was still on her side, her hand still draped over the small girl that had been between then. “Dark outside,” Cait looked at the window and nodded. “Yeah. Going on four-thirty,” Uncle Sean smiled. “You coming back to bed?” “No. I need to start feeding animals so they have had breakfast before Auntie gets up. She’ll be up in about half an hour. If you want, you can watch TV.” “If you are already awake,” I copied Daddy. “You can get your lazy butt, I mean, I can get my lazy butt up and wash off the pissy sheets I mad.” “No,” Sean frowned. “Your Aunt is still sleeping, so you can’t do it if we wanted you to, and you are not going to spend the summer here in shame or working from the minute you wake. If you get up, you go the toilet if you want, and then you go to the living room until Auntie gets up to help you get a bath, pet. You can play down there or watch TV if you like.” “I can just watch TV? Just play? Just get up and not do nothing?” “Well, if you feel guilt, there is one thing you can do for me,” Uncle Sean says. “Yeah?” “Change your underwear even if you use or you don’t use the toilet before going downstairs. I don’t want you sitting in icky pee, darling.” “Wait, what? That’s it? How is that for you?” “Well, I have work with the animals and I need to keep my wits about me, and if I’m worried about you being in wet underwear and scared and uncomfortable, I might mess up.” “I don’t think you would….” “Please, don’t make me test that, Cait? Just change. It takes less than a few seconds, right? I’ll even change you if you need me to.” “I… I can do it. I just. You said do something for you!” “It is for me, Cait. I’ll worry if you don’t do it.” “Okay. I’ll do it. See?” and Cait slapped her feet across the room towards the door and out and towards her own room. She still didn’t understand how this was for Uncle Sean. He wasn’t wearing soaking wet undies, was he? And if he was, it was her fault. -- Cait came back to the hall, and as Uncle Sean was about to walk down the steps to the kitchen, Cait walked into the bathroom, swung the bathroom door wide open, and then went to the toilet and started to undress. “I’ll just get the door.” “No!” Cait called out sharply and then put her hands on her mouth. “What did I do?” Uncle Sean asked. “Nothing?” Cait whispered. “Cait? Talk to me. Do you like the door closed when you go pee?” “Not in the morning. I want you to see me do it. It means I good girl and didn’t lie that I peed my pants and took up time in the bathroom, but I peed my pants. It means you know I peed, otherwise, I can’t change my underwears.” Uncle Sean shook his head. “If it helps, you can leave it open, pet.” “You have to watch!” Uncle Sean shook his head. “I’ll watch because you are asking me to, but Cait? No one has to watch you to believe you told us you went to the toilet. Even if you are wet a few minutes later, which you shouldn’t be unless the problem is even worse than I already know it to be. But even if you are wet a minute later, if you tell your Aunt and me that you went to the toilet, sat on it, and went in the toilet, it doesn’t mean you lied if you are wet a few minutes later. It just means something else is wrong, little lass. And it’s not your fault.” “You have to watch. Please?” He stood there by the door and started talking about selling his cheese, milk, and other products in the fall. When she came out, he handed her the bear and then he picked her up, carried her down to the kitchen and gave her a glass of juice and told her to play in the living room. He left the television on a cartoon while she was playing. Chapter Twenty-three She Echoed Him “Sean is wrong,” the ghost was disrespectful and didn’t say Uncle. Cait glared at the ragged old pee stained skirt almost invisible thing standing across the room from her. “If you don’t show Daddy you peeing in the toilet, you’ll be told to show him your real puddle later—if your bedding’s not wet. Even Grainne has to prove to daddy that she pees in the morning.” “Yeah. I know.” Cait whispered. “But Daddy doesn’t have to check Grainne. That’s weird. Isn’t it?” “The old man is weird all over the place, but that doesn’t change that you better not accidentally get used to Kookaberry’s rules because even if Uncle Sean said you could take the bear, you know what would happen to it, right?” My heart felt like it had pins in it. “He wouldn’t be mine no more.” “Exactly.” “So… I have to keep following the rules so when I go back home, I didn’t forget them?” “You can try not to do the rules. But if you do, and then you make a really big mistake at home… Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. And stop looking at me like that, Kookoo doll! It’s the truth.” “Don’t call Kookaberry Koo koo or I won’t talk to you know more.” “Fine. But explain to Kookaberry that we know Dad and he doesn’t. His rules don’t apply at our house even if he is Ajax all over this place, he isn’t the Ajax of our Misery.” “Ghost is right,” I sighed to Kookaberry. “If I take you with me, I don’t know what will happen to you for real, but I know you won’t be mine no more. I have to leave you, because I don’t want no one to tear you up.” “I’m still here while you are here, though,” Kookaberry said. “Maybe you can tell your Uncle what you are afraid of? He might tell your Daddy that I’m yours.” “That’s not going to make Daddy happy at all, and it will make you go away faster and maybe even go in the fire. I not going to say nothing to make Uncle Sean talk to Daddy because I know he would, but Uncle Sean’s hands don’t reach two states. It’s like a gazzillion seconds away, and he can’t stop anything Daddy does.” “I’m Sorry, Cait. You are right, though. No one is that fast except Santa Claus.” “Even Santa Claus knows better than to visit us,” Cait frowned at Kookaberry. “He once brought toothbrushes for us, but that’s the only kinds of things he has for us. Daddy gets mad if he brings anything else. We don’t deserve nothing else, specially me.” It was around five thirty when Auntie Eiboline came down the steps in a nightgown and saw Cait playing in just underwear and a shirt. “Cait, hon? Would you like to get some pants on and a better shirt? We need to go to the well again, if you want, pet.” “The well? Yay! I can bring Kookaberry!” “I think you should leave Kookaberry at the table, sweetheart. You’d be really sad if you dropped him in the well or you couldn’t find him for a long time because he got dropped in the fields. He’ll keep here for you when you get back.” “Oh. Okay.” “See?” the ghost whispered. “Even Auntie knows you’ll mess up and leave Kookaberry because you get thinking about other stuff all the time.” “That’s enough,” Kookuberry. “Auntie has no such thinking. I’ve always been tied to the house and the car. That’s where I stay. It’s not about Cait. It’s about people and where toys belong.” “How do you know where toys belong? I heard you were locked up for over twelve years!” “How do you know what human parents are like? You just get in the way of Cait all the time,” Kookaberry countered. “You have to visit other people to actually understand what all people are like, and even you have to agree that Cait’s dad isn’t the typical Daddy.” “Fine. Agreed. But you still haven’t seen other people either.” “I don’t have to. We are talking about Sean and Eiboline, right? And I have lived in this house for over 12 years. Those twelve plus the years that he existed, and I know what they are like more than you do.” “Fine.” The ghost seemed to just poof into smoke out of irritation. “Have you been to the bathroom this morning?” Auntie Eiboline asked. “You can come with me and see,” Cait said instead of telling something that the ghost would surely turn into Auntie thinking she was lying. “Actually, can you take me?” Eiboline smiled. “I can, if you want, Cait. But do you understand you can go on your own, too? You are allowed, little lass.” “I like it when you take me.” Cait said without telling her why. Eiboline nodded. “Alright. It’ll give me a chance to wash your face and make sure you put on some clothes that will keep you warmer in the earlier part of the morning.” “See? She doesn’t trust you to dress yourself either,” the ghost whispered into her ear. Cait strugged at the ghost. The ghost was on Daddy alert, and daddy wasn’t here right now, and she was simply tired of thinking about what Daddy said right then. The Ghost was ruining her time with Auntie-grandma, and she wasn’t going to allow it. “Auntie? Do you think that you could take me somewhere today? I mean, anywhere, if it’s not troubling to you?” “Where would you like to go, pet?” “Maybe where there are other kids?” “Well…, I suppose I could talk it over with Uncle Sean and make sure he would be needing the car. You see everything is so far from the house, and if he needs something for the animals or to finish the repairs out there, then he wouldn’t be able to get them without a car.” “I only meant if it’s not trouble.” “Well, we can ask him. How about when he comes in for breakfast, we could ask?” “Okay.” The walk to the well was just like the day before. “The water is already gone from both of the buckets?” Cait asked when she saw the yellow plastic pail inside the tin one in the mud room. “Well, of course, pet. We don’t bring back more than we can drink because that would require finding space to store it, and while you might be young, I’m getting a little old to be carrying more than I need.” “Oh, um… okay,” Cait didn’t want to think about Auntie Eiboline being old. She carried Cait sometimes and put her in her lap. If she was old, then lifting on Cait and holding her, and Uncle Sean carrying her… he couldn’t do that. But he hadn’t acted like he didn’t want to. As they started towards the Well again, and Cait’s hand went into her Aunt’s hand, a golden brown dog could eventually be found trailing far enough behind again to keep from being in Auntie’s way. “Would it cause trouble if I let Shadow drink from my pail?” Cait asked Auntie. “Suppose she could this once, but you’ll have to take no water the first time, and this evening, before dinner, you may need to come to the well again with me to make sure we have water tonight. And I’ll want you to wash it out good before morning. Promise me?” “I promise, Auntie Eiboline.” She smile. “Now.” And then she filled the bucket about half full, and the made sure Cait had it with both hands before sending her to the dog who waited feet away. “From both of us,” I whispered to Shadow. “You know it’s good water, right?” Shadow laid down until I was upon her, and then she started to drink from the bucket. I could feel the thank you from her body rubbing against me and making me happy. “Where do you sleep?” I asked her. She licked my hands and then drank more water. “Your body has stickers in it. Are you hurting?” I started to try to pull some of the owie burrs from her fur. “Auntie? Shadow has stickers all over her. Isn’t there an easier way to get them out? They hurt her.” “Now.” Auntie Eiboline smiled and nodded. “How about when we get back to the mud room, I’ll go in the kitchen for a moment to get some old things and you lead her to the mud room if she’ll follow you.” “If she doesn’t?” “We’ll figure it out, Cait. I’m sure Shadow wants those burrs out of her fur as much as you do.” “More even,” I frowned up at her. “They hurt.” The rest of the morning, the only thing that Cait wanted was to get the burrs off of Shadow, to wash the sheets she messed up in the night, and she vaccuumed and did all the normal things she figured that Grainne did everyday at Daddy’s farm minus helping Cait. As the sun reached the peak in the sky, Cait was in the living room playing with her woodland creatures town with Kookaberry running errands here and there helping all sorts of adventures if it was to save the Rabbit family Daddy from a cruel trap that hunters set to finding a way to help the Raccoon family food from the Cannery Goods Market, the place where people dumped perfectly good food for Raccoons, and then tried to make it hard for them to get. “Why do we cover the cans with lids? If the food is just going to spoil more, and the Raccoons and other animals don’t mind the food, how come people don’t put food in a place where they can get it?” Kookaberry spread out through all of the lands both the bedroom and the living room that as Ajax, he made a decree, that from now on, if people didn’t like their trash to be dumped, then they have to make a place for Raccoons to get what they want, and the Raccoons had to be responsible and dump what they don’t eat in a way that doesn’t get in the way of others. Cait whispered to herself. “That’s a good law.” Sean walked into the house and sat at the table, and Cait stood, grabbed her little Ajax Bear, and she walked over and sat in Uncle’s lap. “You know what Kookaberry did today?” she asked. “He told all the kingdoms even the shrine people on the dresser, that from now on, they have to make a Raccoon market, and he told the Raccoons in all three cities, the upper shrine city, the bed side town, and the front room town, that they have to get rid of anything they don’t want so it doesn’t make the other people mad in town. Isn’t that a good law?” Sean smiled at Aunt Eiboline with their own secrets about how that should work, but what he did with Cait, was he just lifted her and put her in his lap. “How has your morning been?” “Well, Ajax Kookaberry made a law, Shadow talked to me and I made her clean because she was sticky with a bunch of stickers from wild stuff outside, and then we cleaned up the house a little, and then you came in, and we’re going to have lunch.” “Bathroom?” “I went three times today. Oh, and can I go to the park? I asked Auntie only she said only if you don’t want the car because you have to use the car sometimes.” “I’d love to drive both you and Auntie to the park, pet. Can you wait until a couple of hours before dinner?” “Okay.” “How are the safe paths coming on?” Auntie asked Uncle Sean. “You know Cait is very excited to get to spend time with you and see some of the animals up close.” “I know. I promise, soon. The last winds weakened some fences I want to repair first against the wild foxes. If we don’t, they’ll be in at your hens. And come Wednesday, we may have another birth coming in the fields. We knew it would be soon.” “Oh, is old Ginny really ready to give birth then?” “I think she is. Cait would probably enjoy watching that.”

Chapter Thirteen A Kinsella Morning The bathroom door opened again maybe half an hour later, and steam clouds followed them out as little naked Cait held Uncle Sean’s hand while Auntie Eiboline led the way back to the bedroom for clean clothes for her. No one looked at the bed at all. Uncle carried Cait to the window, no shame at all, and opened it holding her… naked. It was so different! She was supposed to hide her dirty little body at home. But here… he let her fresh clean body drink in the rays of the sun. There were no houses or people to see within miles. He wasn’t exposing her. He was just making her free, and then he put her back on her feet. “Feels good to have the sun on your body for a minute, doesn’t it, pet?” he asked. Cait smiled up at him. “Yeah, maybe….” She wasn’t sure. But why say he was wrong if she didn’t know? He wasn’t different than yesterday… not yet. “Pet, come here,” Auntie Eiboline called softly at her. Auntie was at the dresser, and the well lit room now let Cait see that there were people in the farm scene played out on its top. But the people didn’t pay attention to the dog, and the people didn’t even look like they saw the animals. One human figure was next to a fence. Was he repairing it? One human figure was in an empty barn structure. Was he doing something you do for animals in there? Cait didn’t know. “He’s cleaning the animal toilets,” the ghost teased her. “Yeah, yeah, he is. That’s why the horse girl couldn’t go potty. The toilets are being cleaned like after school, and you wait too long at school and the toilets get closed. That’s why she was going pee pee in her pants and she stayed away so no one knew!” Cait brightened up though. It meant the horse girl had the right to go, but she didn’t like the humans watching her. The water gun on the dresser had it’s pointed end aimed at the lone little horse. Why? Cait shook her head and looked up at Eiboline who had a pair of white boy underpants again. “I… I’m going to ruin it,” Cait whispered. “No, pet. You are going to use it like a child does. If you happen to pee in it, then you pee. It’s okay.” Cait wrinkled her eyes up at the grandma-Aunt. “I can pee them?” “You can wear them and let nature do as nature does,” Auntie Eiboline smiled. It wasn’t direct permission to just do it, but it wasn’t denying permission of what happens. It was just permission to wear them and let things be. It was… strange to Cait. “When we get some money later, pet, we’ll get you some girl panties. I know girl panties will be so much more comfortable for you.” “I don’t mind at all, really, Auntie. These are okay. I can actually… um…,” she blushed. She didn’t think it was a good idea to tell it. If she told her daddy about pre-pee, he might have ‘Just-a-owned her.’ No reason to get Auntie Eiboline in trouble by telling her something dad will be mad if she forgets to tell him. “I like them.” She nodded to herself. The thickness. The weight. The cotton feel. It felt like she could pre-pee more in them without it becoming pee, and that felt safe. Cait hugged her Auntie while her Auntie pulled them up snug on her. I think the bed… smells like me,” Cait told her Aunt trying to walk a fine line between telling her about pre-pee and not acknowledge that she really peed her pants last night—in the bed. “Your daddy and mommy told us you struggled,” Auntie Eiboline turned her away from the bed. “You worry about putting this undershirt on, not what might be hiding under the blanket right now. Whatever I see, we will deal with it on it’s turn, but right now, it is the living’s turn, and you, Cait Weimer—Kinsella, you matter. You hear me?” Cait smiled up at her. “What that meet?” she may have meant mean, if she knew that means meant. “What it means, is you need to get dressed so we can have breakfast. Chores come after breakfast in this house, little pet. Chores are important. They help keep things organized and clean, but more important than chores, are the living. You make sure the living eat, and the living feels seen and heard.” Auntie smiled as she pulled the undershirt over Cait’s had and then touched her nose. “Wait? I eat before I put my wet pants in the dirty place and I make the bed?” I asked. “That’s exactly what I mean,” Auntie told her as she took her hand and deliberately turned her when she looked back at the bed to remove the bed from Cait’s view. They were facing the wardrobe. She opened it, and Cait saw several plaid shirts and a few folded over jeans in the floor of it. “Where you get all this?” Cait whispered because things still weren’t really explained to her yet. “Well, we will talk about that later,” Eiboline whispered in the same way. “For now, we make the clothes happy by letting them be fully useful, right? So, what shirt feels like a today shirt, pet?” And just like that, Cait was down in the living room at the table. She was wearing boy clothes for sure. There was a farm set on the dresser. Boys play with those, but a girl could, too. Water guns were played with by girls when it was hot out. But the room was… well, the clothes. It was a boy’s room. She was probably the only girl in the world that wore boy underpants, but so far, girl underpants meant she peed her pants, got in trouble for moving around when she did it, or making the school call, and make daddy mad. Boy underpants meant more safety for pre-pee. It meant she was here, and the man in the house told her to move if she pees her pants, to get him. And she got hot baths. Boy underpants were a lot better than girl underpants so far. Sean picked Cait up after they buttoned the shirt, folded the leg cuffs to fit, and he side stepped out of the room, her head towards the wardrobe, and when she started to turn back to the dresser to look at the toys, Sean put a hand on her back making her unable to turn back, as if he didn’t want her to see something. But he let her see the animals on the dresser. What didn’t he want her to see? It didn’t matter. They were downstairs, and Auntie Eiboline already had her playing with a bowl and some flower and other stuff—making breakfast. Making blueberry muffins? Sean looked up at the clock. “It’s getting late. I need to at least feed the animals. You two finish breakfast while I go feed the livestock. They should have been fed more than thirty minutes ago.” “I can help!” Cait spoked up. Sean shook his head slightly at Eiboline. “And who’s going to help me finish breakfast if you go off gallivanting with your uncle?” Auntie Eiboline frowned. “You promised to help me if we made blueberry muffins, remember?” Cait nodded. “Sorry Uncle Sean. I made a deal with Auntie first. Maybe tomorrow?” “Maybe, pet,” Sean smiled and ducked away before Cait could think too much about it. It was maybe a couple of hours, Cait might guess, though she couldn’t be sure since she didn’t look at the circular disc on the call when they started. Auntie Eiboline and she made blueberry muffins, scrambled eggs, sausages, and toast. But some how, Uncle Sean didn’t have to be called. He came in maybe five minutes after they’d set the table, and Eiboline had had Cait help her wash out the dishes. She was actually letting her helped, and not once, when Cait knew she didn’t know what she was doing, and knew she had blocked Auntie Eiboline here and there, but not once had she been treated like she was the problem. “I’m sorry, Pet. I’m not used to having a helper in this space, but I did ask you. That was my fault. Are you okay?” She had said this not once, but like three times. Once when Cait was in her way of putting a dish away, once when Cait was idle by the fridge, and once when Cait was at the table and Auntie Eiboline was putting sausages on plates. “I’m okay,” she said looking up at the Grandma-aunt. “You don’t have to be so careful with me. No one ever is.” “Pet, I’m not being careful. I’m being polite and human to you. I bumped you, child, not the other way around, and if I make you fall down, of course I’m going to ask if you are okay.” Cait shrugged. “I was the one that….” “Nah-uh!” Auntie put her two hands on my shoulders. “Who told you to be right there where you were, little one? Did you just move there, or did I ask you to help me?” “I… I should have moved….” “Cait? That wasn’t the question. Did I tell you to help me, or did you just get in the way because you were being troublesome?” “I… I don’t….” She hugged Cait. “Little lady, Auntie asked for your help, and I was moving like you weren’t there. That was fully Auntie’s fault, okay? You, little lady, were being a big help, and Auntie just wasn’t used to it. You have no blame, and besides, you were the one that was bumped, pet, not Auntie Eiboline. You matter, Cait. If someone jostles you like you don’t belong—in this house? We apologize because you do belong, child.” Cait looked at the floor. “I peed last night.” Eiboline sighed. “Child. That doesn’t give anyone a right to treat you like you don’t belong. People apologize to animals, even, when they step on a tail. It’s only right to make sure a child is okay and to apologize when you knock a child down regardless of reasons. You do matter, here, little one.” “But I did pee,” she whispered. Eiboline whispered more to herself, Cait realized, than to her. “God, help this child! Give me the strength and patience I will need with her. Please!” “I was bad?” Auntie hugged her tight. “You were a ten year old little girl, hon. You were not in the way, you were not doing anything wrong by sleeping, and it is natural for a kid to get dirty, little pet.” Sean came in just as Auntie was explaining. “What’s going on?” he asked looked from Auntie to Cait. “She’s apologizing for being a child again,” Auntie frowned. Chapter Fourteen The Right Spice “Those people,” Sean frowned. He motioned her over, and his boots, his trousers, and his hands were very dirty. Still, he lifted her up and set her in his dirty lap. “Now.” He touched her nose with a dirty finger. “You get this, good, child. You didn’t get me dirty right now. I got you dirty. Yet you still sit in my lap and listen to me, don’t you?” Cait shrugged. “No, Cait, this is nothing to shrug at. Are you listening to me, or not, pet?” “You’re big.” “So the only reason you sit in my lap is I’m big?” Cait looked down. “I… I don’t know.” “You can get down if you want.” “Do I… do I… only, do I have to?” “And that question right there means you are consciously choosing to sit here, little pet. Don’t you see? You want to be here even if I am covered in soil and cow slop. You don’t mind the mess.” “I poop my pants….” “You are a ten year old little girl who doesn’t know the way up right now, pet. But that isn’t even a concern right now. You were clean, Cait. Yet you sat in my lap. You see? And you don’t mind. And if you make a little mess, I will put you in my lap the same as you are sitting in my lap. We both need human contact. You know?” Cait sighed. “I… I know. I’m just not used to it.” Sean patted her butt. “Well, you are going to get used to it, little pet. Your Auntie and I… we are not going to let you suffer in silence, here. It was never right for that to be the expectations. Maybe your parents just feel overwhelmed with all you kids at once, right now? You are only one child and there are two adults here. There is no excuse for us to ignore you, especially if you are dirty, hon.” “And you don’t even care?” “Oh, Cait, don’t you believe for a moment that we don’t care. We care that you feel upset and you feel like deep down, you know something is wrong. We do care, pet. But we are not going to shame you further or terrorize you for something you already beat yourself up for all the time. We are going to make you feel safe, first, and that means doing pants checks for a while, not to hurt your feelings, but to do something about it. To make sure you understand that you don’t need to sit there silently in pee. You don’t deserve that.” Cait hugged him tight, reaching her little arms up and around his neck, getting the shirt on her even more dirty. “I peed in the hallway… on purpose,” she whispered. “I know,” he patted her shoulder. “I saw what happened,” he frowned at her. “Cait? No, I wasn’t awake, and no, I didn’t see it happen, but I saw how you were lying, and the fact you were just in a puddle with no trail. You got scared. No one here is going to shame you for freezing when you pee. Something scares you, and we need to work on that. You shouldn’t be that scared.” “I asked her help, and I bumped her,” Auntie Eiboline. “She acted like it was normal to be bumped around as if she’s the problem, but you know how it’s been for years. I just didn’t expect a small person there, even though I asked her to. I’m kicking myself, but the child, somehow, thinks she’s the problem.” Sean sighed. “Those people!” Sean held her for a few more minutes, patting the child’s back. He stopped talking and just patted her back while Auntie moved the girl’s plate closer to him. “Let her eat in your lap?” Auntie whispered. Uncle looked down at her. “You can turn around and eat, or I can get Auntie to being me a washing bowl so I can clean my hands and feed you. What would you like, pet?” “I can do it.” “He’s not going to drop us,” the ghost whispered. “He… he said it’s okay that you peed on the floor last night, that he knew, and still, he took you to the window like that and didn’t hide you. It’s like… he… he wants the world to know you are here, but he didn’t hold you to the world in wet clothes, either. He held you to the open window right after we were clean. He’s… he’s not going to drop us.” Auntie brought him a washing bowl anyway so he could wash off his hands and face, which he did around the little girl in his lap. He smiled at her as she started to bounce in his lap eating. “Did you do something different to the eggs?” Uncle Sean asked Auntie Eiboline. “Well, Cait did,” she smiled. “I told her she could try one thing to change it up because she always wondered about it. And well, I suppose it worked out.” “What did you add to it?” Sean asked the little one. “I… I just asked if we could add a tiny little bit of sugar,” she whispered. “It was maybe like a teaspoon to two eggs,” Auntie Eboline whispered. “She was shaking the whole time I let her do it, but I’m glad she did. Doesn’t it taste wonderful?” Sean nodded. “I knew they tasted lighter and somehow, just a little bit better.” Cait smiled up at him. “Really?” “Really. Auntie was right to have you help her cook! How did you know? About the sugar?” Cait looked down. I just… well, you put eggs and sugar for cake, you do it for frosting, you do it for all kinds of sweet stuff, so I just thought, it just kind of… goes together?” The adults looked at one another like this was a big reveal to them. “And they say she can’t do math!” Uncle Sean laughed. Cait looked up at him bewildered. It wasn’t math! There were no numbers at all in what she did. She just took a little bit of sugar in her fingers, and she sprinkled it in the eggs before Auntie started to add them to the hot pan to scramble them. They did look a little puffier though, at least to Cait, they did. “Well,” Sean finished breakfast. “The farm waits.” “What about Cait?” Auntie Eiboline asked. “Later, Eiboh. There are things that need to be done to make it safer for her. You know what I mean!” Auntie Eiboline nodded. “Alright. She can help me then today.” Chapter Fifteen Venom in and out of Nature He nodded and he put Cait on the floor on her feet. “Pet? There are a lot of things that people have to get used to around live stock, and I just want to make sure it’s ready for you. Trust me, I’m doing what I feel needs done. I promised your mama and Daddy that we’d look after you, and there are things that ten year old children just don’t understand yet.” “Oh. Okay.” Cait whispered. “You’re in the way,” the ghost told her. “Your fake Uncle is being nice, but he has to do more work because of you. And Auntie was being nice, but you saw how she bumped into you every few minutes. You were always in the wrong place. And what if you have to pee out there? You’ll pee all over inside your pants, and whose fault is that?” “Mine,” Cait sighed to Kookaberry. “I always do it.” Kookaberry didn’t know me that well, yet, so he seemed to be a little bit quiet. I knew that the ghost was right. I would probably pee my pants if not worse. No one should have to change a ten year old baby, but they do when I’m around. I am probably lucky they didn’t have diapers instead of just boy underwears. Cait’s face blushed. “My teacher, Mrs. Evans from fourth grade sent me to the nurse. She thought I should change my pants when it happened.” “So…. Because your fourth grade teacher thought you should change your pants, you think that’s good enough to let you go outside, in public, and use the bathroom all over yourself and then come home and have these people change you again like last night?” The ghost seemed to have its white see-in-to arms cross it’s see-in-to chest, where you can see the other side of it, kind of. “Is Sean family?” The ghost got this devilish grin that Cait frowned at. Cait put her finger to her lips and watched as Sean left the table towards the back door and to the fences with animals. Eiboline watched Sean leave, and then she smiled down at the helpful wide eyed girl with her finger at her lips like she was thinking in that juvenile way that kids often try to mimic adults tapping their chins. “Cait? Shall we go to the well? We need some more drinking water, pet. I’ll show you how to get it, but you are still to never do it by yourself. It’s safer to always take someone with you.” Cait froze for a moment, her finger lingering on her chin. “You… you want me to go out there? Out there walking by you?” She felt a shiver down her spine. “What if a neighbor sees us?” “Why would I care if a neighbor saw us, Cait?” Eiboline frowned at her little cousin. “You’re my cousin. Why shouldn’t I be seen with you?” “You didn’t hear Daddy last night?” Cait shivered again. “I might cause trouble and make your neighbors think you’re bad.” “Cait. Little Lass. Don’t be silly, hon. No one thinks we are bad for looking after our cousin for the summer. And your father… well, he can keep his dark beliefs to himself, pet. You are no trouble.” Cait rubbed her arm while Eiboline led her to the mud room. That’s what Eiboline called it, and she started to get things together for herself and for Cait. “See if these fit,” Auntie Eiboline handed her some rubber boots. “The farm isn’t made for street shoes. These will keep your Sandals a little longer until we can do something about those.” “Do something about them?” “Cait, those Sandals have seen much better days. I don’t mean to keep you in rags while you are here, little lass. You are a person, and you should feel as comfortable as everyone else here.” “Okay,” Cait put a finger to her lips tapping them again. “Do you want yellow or black?” Auntie-grandma gestured at these beach pails, I think they were for. “You can help me carry back enough water for all of us.” “Oh, really? I can help and not even be in the way?” “That’s right, pet.” They walked hand in hand, buckets swinging on the outside of their union of opposing hands. Cait had a wonder in her eye, or was it wander-lust. She was known as a wanderer, and to be fair to Daddy, that was the one thing she would describe about herself and feel happy someone knew. They walked a trail through the grass that led a little further from the other animals. The air was cool out, but Auntie had her in a thick shirt and thick jeans that made the chill nearly non-existent except on her hands, her face, and her ears. There was a smell that was rich and somewhat gagg-i-ly. The grassy trail that started to lead from the house was soft and squishy. Behind them, the dog she had seen the night before, was slowly, in a distance, trailing them. It’s head was low and its tail was low. It stayed far enough away that it wasn’t noticed and shooed. Cait saw the dog and then she looked up at Auntie. “Why doesn’t the dog come in the house?” “Well. It’s just not the place for a dog,” Eiboline answered, but Cait knew that in her little girl heart, she wanted it inside maybe on her bed, even, sleeping by her, but Daddy said to obey. “Where he sleeps?” “She, Cait, sleeps in the barn with the horses most night, but on nicer ones, she sleeps in the old field.” Did Auntie’s voice sound a little quiet with maybe a hint of something not really… excited in her chest when she said the old field? Cait frowned. It sounded like she said it sadly to her. Fences off in the distance from their trail looked sturdy and bold against the sun. Off far enough that it was hard to tell who, but close enough she knew it had to be Uncle Sean because she hadn’t ever seen anyone else in the house was working. There were no other houses. Sean went to do farm work. It had to be him. They walked up to the top of a hill that sort of gave a lay of the land. Cait could see, a little closer to the house, but off the trail a bit, one field they had somehow passed by without her seeing. It looked a little more wild over there, but yet, around the pinned in wild, things were neat and trimmed. What was that place? “It’s a secret,” something deep from within teased. “It’s not your business. Don’t be troublesome.” There was a tree that stood watch over a little cellar like place that Auntie called the well. Cait could see it was full of water, but the water was clear enough, that she saw steps that went down into it, somewhat like storm cellars in Missouri. There was a ladle on the tree, a ladle for cooking, but it was placed on the tree. “Put your bucket down,” Auntie-granny Eiboline whispered. “Take the ladle, little mouse, and scoop up just a little of the water, and taste it. See what you think?” Cait looked up at her and she smiled. Auntie’s hair glowed like an angle in the sun. “Ladle the water up?” she asked. “Yes, pet. We use a ladle and buckets for safety. It’s quite easy to slip and fall in, and with all the stones below, even a strong swimmer in that limited deep space, her head banged, she wouldn’t stand a chance. That’s why you never come out here without me, okay?” Auntie told Cait not to come out there alone, but Daddy did that all the time back home. “Don’t wander,” he’d say. But Auntie didn’t stop at “Don’t wander.” She didn’t even call it that. She told her that the water hole was dangerous, and she didn’t want Cait to fall in it. Daddy never esplained nothing to her like that. Cait was too stupid to have it esplained. “Okay….” Cait ladled the water up, and took a sip. It was cool and something about the taste…. Her eyes popped out, she imagined, because the coldness and the taste, like water really had a taste beyond just being wet and comforting to her thirst. “Is that Uncle Sean?” she asked her Auntie as she ladled a second time to her mouth. He had two large powerful horned beasts on leads of rope, and he was taking from further out on the property, moving them closer to the house. Not right next to it, for sure, but still, much closer than they had been. Cait knew one thing. If you didn’t want to be a bad man breaking in a house with a dog, she imagined breaking in the fence with that powerful thing would be a lot worse. Cait sipped at the water, but Eiboline let silence fill the moment instead of answering her. There was a hint of the taste of this water in last night’s lemonade. She could taste it. It wasn’t salt exactly in the water. That would be too easy to esplain. It was something else that she had no word for. It wasn’t spice that’s in the kitchen for sure. Cait had put the ladle back, and Auntie was putting water in Cait’s bucket when she finally gave her an answer to Uncle Sean’s actions. “Sean is moving a few of the bulls closer to the paths he wants you to stay on when you’re outside,” Eiboline finally answered, a small smile on her lips. “Why would he do that? Won’t the bulls try to break the fence and hit me if I’m wearing red?” Eiboline smiled. “Cartoons exaggerate, Cait.” “Ecs-aja-rate?” Cait asked. “Well, they tell a truth, but in a way that makes it seem like a lie or like it’s over doing something that could happen, but isn’t every day. And most cartoons, they are usually careful to show in context that the bull is being teased. You really shouldn’t tease any animal. Even a cat can become mean if you tease it until it hates you.” “Oh.” Eiboline put a hand on her shoulder. “Those bulls he’s actually moving right now, they are better than a watch dog when it comes to warnings. They don’t bark, or as cows do, moo at just anything that moves.” “Not all dogs bark at just anything,” Cait defended dogs because she thought they were good animals to have in a house. Her face brightened. “Grainne had this one friend, she had the meanest type of dog you can get, only Tubby wasn’t mean at all. He was all licky and rolly when you meet him. I only saw him once, but he gave Pit Bull as a terra-gorizing dog, a bad name.” Auntie smiled. “Well, maybe not all dogs do bark all the time. But Bulls…, they don’t get excited unless they actually feel threatened. Sean is moving them to spot snakes for us.” “Snakes?” Cait looked up at her. “There are snakes out here?” Her eyes glanced at the ground. She felt a little warmth and wetness in her underwears. “There are, Cait. That’s why you need to be careful, and you need an adult with you if you go beyond the areas we tell you not to go alone.” “So…. He’s making the cows protect me?” “He’s moving them to raise the alarm, Cait. You don’t go near them. They are still dangerous animals, and you don’t go in their fences until your uncle says you’re ready.” “If bulls are so dangerous, why people keep them against their will? And how come Uncle Sean is making two walk on leashes?” “They are like anything else, Cait. If you understand it, then most things in life are not dangerous. But a lot of people don’t understand things, and that’s when they get hurt. And I would never go near a bear my self, but case in point, park rangers take care of bears over in Yellowstone.” “Where Yellowstone?” “It’s nowhere near us, Cait. You never even heard of it?” Cait frowned. “Well, I’m stupid, you know. Daddy says I don’t know a lot of stuff other kids know.” Auntie frowned. “If you’ve never heard of a place, Cait, that’s not being stupid. It means no one has ever brought it up to you. That’s all.” Cait shook her head. She knew she was stupid. Daddy said so. The school said so. Everyone said so. Auntie just don’t know her too well, yet. “Well, the bulls? They don’t exactly protect you?” Cait asked. “Well, they will be close enough along that if you hear them stirring, you stop and you look. The bulls will not be looking at you. They will be watching where they think the danger is. If you see a snake, you stay where you are until help comes. You don’t move. Not one inch.” “What if I pee my pants?” “Then you pee your pants, child. Even Auntie Eiboline pees her pants if its a choice between being bit by a snake and getting to the toilet in time. We are kind of far out, and some snakes have fast acting venom.” “Ve-um?” “Yes, Cait, venom. A dangerous thing that’s like poison, but it comes from an animal.” “Okay. So big scary cow stomps, and I stop and look, and wait and what if I’m better at not peeing and still want to go really bad? I still pee my pants then?” “That’s right, Cait, if you can’t wait. But you try not to adjust or let it all go at once. You try to freeze and not let it come out too fast. The sound, the heat, a few things could set the snake off if it’s too fast. You pee slowly, if you pee your pants.” “Oh?” “Well, anyway, the stomping bulls and this close in, Snakes should be distracted and detoured further out by other things Uncle has already out there. The bulls are just in case, not something you’ll see or worry about every day. Listen to the farm. It will tell you when things are at peace and when it’s scared just like you will eventually learn to understand when things happen because you are scared and then you’ll start to learn to control that, too.” Aunt Eiboline bent down and filled her pail. The warmth of the sun was gentle against Cait making the sweating nearly unnoticeable though there were now wet marks at necks, arm pits, and other places both on Cait and on Auntie Eiboline. Birds soared across the sky. Sounds of things that hid in the grass not dangerous sounds that spooked the other animals, but sounds that sounded like little insect people chattering to Cait. Were the ants telling the beetles that humans were near the well? Were spiders twirling their little mustaches as they waited for flies and other things to hit their traps? The sounds of chirping and clicking sped up so fast it was hard to understand one over another filled the air. “Nature is loud,” Cait told Eiboline. Chapter Sixteen The pre-discovers of Cait “Nature is loud,” Auntie Eiboline observed with a deep breath. “It’s loud when it feels free to express itself. It’s safe. It’s able to throw back its head and call out to those around to tell them they are there. That’s how you know it’s safe.” Cait looked up at Auntie Eiboline with a small interested smile on her lips and her left ear pitched up at her like she was as important as Mrs. Evans, and maybe she knew as much. “When animals hold their breath, all movement stops, and you cannot hear a single insect or bird, you know, the animals can feel there is something unsafe. Even before a bull will lift its hooves to beat a snake’s head it, it will have paused several seconds before that to identify where it was, and in that time, the whole farm will quiet layer by layer until either the danger passes, or it is dealt with, and they know whether to run or not.” Cait frowned and looked down at her hands and her quiet little jeans that she wore. “I must be strange to the animals then. They must think I’m confusing?” Cait’s questioning eyes looked up into her Auntie’s wise face lined with the years of living as a farmer’s wife. Auntie shook her head. “No one knows what animals really thinks of humans, but we know that they know some humans are safe and some are not.” Cait frowned. “How do they know?” “It’s just nature, Cait. When someone tells you there is a absolute scientific way to know everything about nature, they are as wrong as they are if they tell you they know everything about God. But I do know that dog behind us….” Cait looked back and saw the following light brown nearly yellow coated dog that was there last night when the car parked and Cait got out was the very same that now trailed them with his head low and its tail between its legs. She looked from the dog to Auntie. “You knew it was there?” “Aye, Lass. I knew it. Shadow. That’s it’s name. She’d been watching you all morning since we started for the well. She likes you, lass.” Cait looked back at the dog and sighed. Shadow? That sounds unfair, as unfair as Daddy calling our old beat up car something strong like Ford. I’m the shadow, the one always in the way. If the world were more kind, the dog would have the name Cait, and I’d be Shadow. Cait looked up at Auntie Eiboline, that grandmotherly-Aunt, and she smiled. Then, waiting a moment before making sure she wasn’t getting in her aunt’s way of doing things, she squatted down feeling a little bit of her pre-pee in her underwear. “Shadow. It’s an unfair name, isn’t it?” “Don’t you know anything?” the trans-in-de-bisible thingy whispered at her. No one would see the creature but Cait. “They don’t name animals like they do people. And the car… I don’t think Daddy made up that name for the car. I think it’s always had that name.” Cait tried to see past the taunting thing in her head and to clearly see the dog for who she was. “What do you know, girl? Do you know why you sleep outside?” The dog got down low. She whined a little and seemed to crawl just a little, and then stopped, looking up at Auntie. Auntie wasn’t chasing the dog. She didn’t tell the dog to leave or “git” as adults often do with animals they don’t like. She just stood there, staring at the dog, her mouth not really happy, but not mean. Cait looked up at her. “How come you feed her if you don’t like her?” “Cait. I don’t have her. I just have a complicated history with her. She understands more than you will ever know, but I can’t talk about that right now. Come, up you come. Let’s go to the house.” Cait sighed. “Do you think Shadow likes you?” “She saved me twice, last year, from walking into a great rattler. If she doesn’t like me, she certainly has no malice towards me.” “What means Mal-ass?” Auntie Eiboline squatted down and put a hand on her back. “When someone has malice towards something, it means they would like something bad to happen, something to hurt them. Shadow doesn’t want that for me. I don’t want that for her. So, I suppose we still take care of each other even after all these years. You know she’s going on fourteen years.” “Is that old for a dog?” “Well, she’s no spring chick, but she still moves like she can get around, doesn’t she?” Cait stood up and sighed. “She seems really nice if she helps you even if you keep her outside all the time. If she did something bad, maybe I should sleep with her in the barn. I wouldn’t wet your bed at night if I slept there.” Auntie Eiboline frowned. She didn’t explain. She just frowned, and her touch was still gentle, but she started to guide the child back over the hill where Cait had seen the lay of the land before. The wind in the trees. The slow moving clouds. The rising sun still climbing the morning steps in the sky. The scene overlooked two fingers on the hill that were slowly carrying pails, the taller one with a heavier, larger, tin one, and the small figure carrying a plastic smaller one—one that scaled to her height. In the distance, we heard hammering of nails into wood echoing through the farm. The bleating of sheep, the slow movement of large cows in the field feeding, and the clucks of chickens. Horses were quietly relaxing in a different field from the cows. The sheep though heard, couldn’t be seen from the little hill that Cait stood on. Maybe the sheep weren’t in the farm itself. Maybe they were on someone else’s farm. A bird flew over Cait and the scene dropped back down on them as they walked down the hill, and Cait realized that they were approaching something of a strange sort to her. It was like there was this one little space, she could see it from the top of the hill, but she couldn’t clearly make it out here, but knew it was closer as they approached the house. There was this fenced in spot, this place, where the grass seemed to grow wild like a boy’s hair that wasn’t trimmed in the summer before the start of school. It was long and wild, but it was fenced in? It was inside a fence where everything else was nice and trimmed around it. She wondered. Why? Chapter Seventeen Pickles ... “Come on, Cait,” Auntie whispered to her. “It’s time to go in and start cleaning up the place. Then we can start learning how to pickle. Would you like that?” Cait looked up at Auntie Eiboline. She was definitely not yet smiling like last night or this morning, but she wasn’t mad. She was… maybe… sad. There didn’t seem to be a reason for it, except maybe Cait did something, maybe. But the thing Auntie’s face told Cait was that she felt something strong and sad right then. She had seen the dog and was still explaining life in that neutral way that you rest without being excited, but feeling good, and yet, when Cait talked to the dog, and she paused and looked out towards the wild field that was closed in, that’s when she saw it. Auntie looked less neutral and more emo-shn-l. She was sad. Cait grabbed her hand, and she squeezed it, though she didn’t really know how to make her Auntie happy again. She didn’t even understand what she did wrong. They started to wander away from the where Cait could see the wild field, the same one that when Sean and Eiboline looked, they saw a cross, though now, buried in the deep grass, Cait couldn’t see. Cait didn’t understand why Auntie was so quiet so suddenly. She wasn’t exactly mad, and she wasn’t crying, but something was different. Something she felt in her bones she wanted to fix. “You?” the taunting ghost whispered in her ear. “You fix your Auntie when you can’t even not pee your pants? You feel that, right?” Cait nodded to herself. She felt it. She had some pre-pee in her underwears. It was more than enough that she knew she needed the toilet, but not seeing one, there was no point telling Auntie. Auntie would just sigh at her because she’d assume Cait was peeing her pants if Cait said something right now. That’s what Daddy always did, and even mama thought it even when Cait was at the table doing homework. “Cait,” her mom would sigh. “You’re already peeing if you’re telling me. Just do your homework. Grainne will change you in a few minutes.” Behind them, Shadow got up and walked behind them, far enough, that should Cait have been that far back, if she was able to do it without disrespecting her Aunt’s wishes for her to be next to her, it would far enough back to not cause trouble. The screen door of the house seemed to slam on them as they entered what Auntie and Uncle called the mud room. It was where she took off the borrowed plastic farm boots that were just a little bigger than her feet, and it was where Auntie helped Cait remove her light jacket she had on her for the morning breeze because it was still early. As Cait got out of the jacket, she saw Shadow at the screen door, and then she looked up with tightness in her chest and a pulling at her eyes like she gets when she wants to cry—looking at Auntie, but Auntie had a soft frown on her face. “Shadow wouldn’t come in even if you left the door open. Go on, open it. You’ll see.” Cait looked up at her as she felt the familiar warm wet feeling in her underpants grow a little bit. She shivered a little and the ghost in her head whispered. “You’re gonna wet your pants, you know. I bet Auntie knows. I bet she checks you in a minute.” Cait sighed and looked at Aunties’ hand holding it to her chest, hugging it. “Can I…?” she whispered. “Can you what, pet?” Auntie asked. “I told you that you could open the door if you want.” “I mean, can I go upstairs? Please?” “You most certainly may, pet. This is your home, too, for the summer.” Cait nodded as she felt herself do a little more pre-pee. “I’ll be… be right back, okay?” “Take your time, pet. No rush.” Cait exaggeratedly put her hands out to the side and walked like she had seen princesses do on television cartoons, trying to seem like she wasn’t in a hurry though her pre-pees were getting desperate and close to real pees. The kitchen through the mudroom, around the table, as quiet and reserved as she could force her shaking legs be, she got into the side hall that went to the main front door, and she glanced back at the doorway. “Think she’s watching us?” the ghost’s voice whispered making Cait make one more glace at the doorway before she gave up on pretending to be a lady and ran up the stairs as fast as her feet could take her. “She knows you ran up the stairs,” the ghost whispered as Cait closed the door. “Bet she checks your underwears.” Cait yanked her pants down and sat on the toilet as fast as she could, and then felt a rush of fluid pour into the toilet under her. “You’re wet,” the ghost told her. Inspecting her pants, they were dry, except the underwear. “I didn’t pee,” Cait told the ghost. My jeans aren’t wet.” “Feel your underwears,” the ghost taunted her. They were really wet when she felt them, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. As she inspected them though, she realized she pre-peed a little more than she usually did, and some reason, these boy underpants seemed to hold her pre-pee better. It stayed pre-pee longer somehow. Maybe it was a good thing they accidentally put her in boy underpants? “You think that these boy underpants gives you the right to pre-pee more in them? You wait until Auntie finds out how much you pre-peed! I bet you she calls it peeing your pants!” Cait sighed and after she tinkled, she stood up pulling up her pre-pee underwear like she always did before she pulled up her jeans and then washed her hands. Auntie was in the kitchen peeling and washing onions, cucumbers, and radishes. “Are you alright, pet?” Auntie Eiboline asked. “That’s Auntie talk for let me see your underpants, girl,” the ghost whispered. “I didn’t pee my pants,” Cait whimpered. “I never said you did, sweetheart. I just asked if you were okay. You looked scared when you left the kitchen.” Cait decided to skip the rest of the way over to see what Auntie was doing. If she didn’t think about it, or say anything, then maybe Auntie wouldn’t check. Maybe even if the ghost was right about Auntie calling it peeing in her pants, if she didn’t look, then Cait wouldn’t look stupid. It wasn’t an impulsive act, one that she didn’t know she’d do. She decided. Maybe if she came full of curiosity, maybe Auntie would look happy and maybe Auntie wouldn’t suddenly check her pants to see if she went like she was supposed to. “I’m about to start making some pickles. Would you like to help?” “I won’t be in the way?” Cait looked up at her; A strong sense that this woman was worth listening to and that she wanted to still be next to her; given all of her failures all night and all morning; sent a kind of excitement through her body knowing that she had just barely made it to the bathroom, and Auntie would still let her work there next to her, and not even check and see if she was being bad. “Don’t make me laugh,” she imagined her mom saying, though she had never really asked her mom to help and her mom didn’t ask her to… so there was no way to know for sure, but she imagined. “You’d just pee your pants while we were making pies, then we’d have to throw them out because you’d get the pies dirty with your filth,” Cait imagined. “Sweetheart, if you are in the way, It’s just because I’m still getting used to you being here. It is nothing to do with you. If my friends were helping in the kitchen it would feel the same, in some ways, but with you, if actually feels more special.” “It does?” Cait’s heart tightened and then relaxed in a way that asked. Is this real? “Did you hear her?” she questioned the ghost. “She said it feels more special, and she’s not faking it. Explain!” The ghost didn’t answer and it didn’t just-appeared either. It was fully absent as though there were no answer for this. “First, we chop the onions. I don’t suppose you’d ever handled a knife before?” Auntie asked. “Well, I’m not very smart, and Mama says she doesn’t want me to cut my fingers, so she’s not going to teach me that until… I grow up a little bit.” “Be honest,” the ghost whispered to her. “Tell her the truth. Mama isn’t going to teach you until you stop peeing your pants at school.” “Well, ten years old is well grown enough to use a knife with supervision,” Auntie told Cait. But you need to do exactly what Auntie says. Can you handle that?” Cait nodded fully willing to do what her Auntie asked. “I can. I promise. If I don’t have to… um read or something.” “No, pet, there is no reading or math involved. You just need to watch your fingers. So tuck those little fingertips in towards the back of your hand and rest the nails on the counter. Use the back of the knuckles to guide the knife….” As she was instructing, she was showing Cait with her own hand. “Always keep the sharp end pointed away from your body at all times, and don’t point it at other people, either. Never point it where it can accidentally hit someone. Pointing it at the counter or at the floor is usually the safest place to aim it when you carry it.” “Like this?” I picked up the knife she laid out for me, and held it at my side with the point to the floor. “Yes, that’s good, but put move your hands a little further from your body. If the knife drops, you don’t want it to drop on your foot.” “Like this?” Auntie might have spent a good half an hour teaching Cait how to handle the knife before she even let her cut into any cucumber or onion. But by the middle of the scene, we can see both Auntie and Cait wiping carefully at the corners of their eyes as the onion’s fumes caused Cait’s eyes to sting and tears to come sliding to the front… painful stinging tears. “It’s Sunday, right?” Cait said while they were cutting up cucumbers together. “Do you ever go to church?” “We do, Cait, but this morning is just so full of expectations. Your uncle and I talked it over last night, and we reasoned that God is important; but God always says that human contact is more important, than looking good. You need some space to breathe today, but we’ll go next week.” “Daddy says church is the only way you get forgiven, and because I always get in people’s way, I need to always go to church to make God happy. “Cait? I don’t think God counts how often you go to church. A lot of people go, but they do bad things.” “Oh,” Cait looked down. “I am always in trouble, right?” But this time, she wasn’t speaking aloud. And these words were not meant for the ghost, but that didn’t stop it appearing. “You don’t really expect God to answer, do you?” Cait shrugged at the ghost. “I don’t know where you get the idea that God keeps a log,” Auntie frowned. “Sure, he doesn’t want us to just be terrible beings to each other and other life, but I don’t think he ticks church goings and little things that hurt us more than it hurts others. He wouldn’t have sent his son to help us, if he was a cruel master like that.” Cait looked up at her. She took a sharp breath, but nodded not really getting it, but knowing you don’t stop people when they talk about God. Auntie looked sincerely as she talked about God, almost as if she was as meaningful in teaching the Bible as a preacher at church. “And some of that, you talk about…. It’s not mistakes to learn. Me, Cait, me… bumping into you was me relearning space with a new person here. You didn’t bump me.” “I got in your way at the sink and then at the fridge, though?” Cait remembered how people at school stepped on her feet, bumped her hard going into small doorways, and nearly pushed her down sometimes telling her to stop gettingin the way. “No, sweetheart. You were moving from one place to another trying to get out of Auntie’s way. I saw it. Like I said, I’m just not used to you being in there is all. We’ll both learn, and it’s not being bad trying to help.” Cait nodded and looked down. She did try to get out of the way. She just chose the wrong way to move, but that’s it, isn’t it? Her parents always saying she’s too dumb to know what to do. “Our slow walk was you learning about farm life. It was important. It didn’t bother me. I rather enjoyed teaching you how the world out here works.” “Why you enjoy it?” Cait looked up at her with true wonder that someone could love teaching someone as stupid as she. “It’s like trying to beat a horse that won’t drink the water, doesn’t it?” Auntie smiled. “No, Cait. You are curious, and that’s the most important thing to show you are ready to learn. I loved teaching you because you really wanted to know. You are so smart, Cait.” And the way Auntie head bobbed and moved in a way like she was really excited by it—Cait knew she must believe it. If only she, Cait, could. “And almost wetting your pants… well, you are a ten year old kid that’s going through some hard stuff right now.” “Huh?” Cait put her finger by her lips thinking. “What I mean, is you are just a kid learning how to manage yourself, and in a situation where; honestly, I’m going to talk to my cousin about the lessons you are learning because no kid should feel that scared about peeing on the floor sometimes. Embarrassed at ten years old and doing it, that’s natural. Scared…. That’s not.” Cait looked up at her. “Mama didn’t do nothing wrong though.” Auntie sighed. “Well, I said I’d talk with her, little one. Maybe I shouldn’t have told you. That’s between adults. But here, you don’t need to be scared about being wet. You just need to find help until you feel better about yourself.” Chapter Eighteen ...And the Anvil of Fear “How come embarrassing is different than scared?” Cait looked up at Auntie. “Does it mean you did something bad, still?” “The difference, pet, is that if you are just embarrassed, you can learn how to fix it. If you are scared, you don’t know what to do, so you just freeze until it happens again. It takes away from you the ability to stop it happening to you, and makes you always have to live through it every time because you never learn how to prevent or clean it up on your own when you can’t prevent it.” Cait shook her head. “Okay, let’s look at it this way. Do you want to write on a book I really like?” “No?” “And if you did, would you know how to fix it or how not to do it the next time, or would you still do it next time not knowing that you did something you don’t need to do?” “Well, you can’t write in books already writed in anyway, so it easy. Just not do it.” “And if a tornado came through today, could you do something to stop the tornado?” “No.” “So what do you do?” “Hide.” “See? If you wrote in the book, and you knew not to, then you’d be embarrassed that you did it, and probably had a good reason, but you’d be sorry. But in the tornado case, there is nothing to do, so you hide because you are scared. That’s the difference. You shouldn’t feel like you have to hide if you pee your pants. You should just try to learn how to fix it, and until you can control it, maybe learn to clean it up.” “How do I do that?” Auntie put the jars of pickles in their resting place to start working. Then she picked me up and tapped my nose. “You want to learn how to clean up a little pee pee mess, sweetheart?” “Will… will it make me less scared?” “I don’t know, but we won’t know until we try. What it does do, though, is give you agency so you don’t have to feel like you have no control when things get too hard on your body.” “Okay.” Auntie took me to the stain in front of the bathroom, the pee stain all over the carpet. “Just wait a moment, sweetheart. And remember, it’s okay that the stain is there. I’m just teaching you what you can do about it, if you don’t like it there.” Cait waited, her breath held in her chest making her heart tighten. Auntie didn’t come back with the belt though. She came back with a brush and some powder and some water. “Now, what you do, is you start with a damp cloth and you pat the stained area to get it ready. The water helps loosen the stain from the fabric, but it won’t go anywhere if we don’t clean at it….” Cait watched carefully while Auntie started to clean the stain. She brushed a small portion of it with the brush and cleaning powder several times and the more she went over it, the lighter the stain got and the more true color of the carpet that showed. “Would you like to try, pet?” “Okay.” As I started to scrub the stain and it started to lighten it, I started to feel something… a lifting in my head. A lifting in my body. A lifting like this huge cartoony anvil wasn’t sitting on my head hurting it. It was… making it easier to breathe. I scrubbed at more of it, liking the feeling. I wasn’t even thinking about the work I was putting in, but more, the lightening of the shame, the colors being even better than my dingy panties at home. “I’m doing it!” I squealed. Auntie Eiboline rested there and watched me until I handed her back the brush. “How do you feel? Scared?” I shook my head. “It’s like… I only almost didn’t make it… it’s… it feels clean and new and like nothing even happened.” She smiled. “That’s the difference of embarrassment and fear. Now, you get rid of the stain, you have nothing weighing you down, and next time you feel that heavy weight, you can clean it up, and feel the embarrassment slowly lift, and you can do something about it.” “Can I have some powder for when I do it next time?” Cait whispered. “I’ll put some in the bedroom for you, where you can get to it, but it won’t be in your way when you play.” “Play?” “Don’t you play at home?” “Outside. In the yard. I watch clouds, and chase my sisters. But there’s no one to chase here, and you can’t chase them in the bedroom.” “So, you’ve never really had an inside toy before?” Cait shrugged. “You sit on the bed, sweetie. Give Auntie a moment. There is one rule about the toys I’d really appreciate you not bothering with.” “Yeah?” “The only toys you are not to touch, are the ones on the dresser. Is that okay? I mean, if you find something fallen over and just fix it, that’s okay. But I want the scene just as he left it?” “Who left it?” Auntie smiled and turned to the wardrobe without an answer. She wasn’t ready to tell Cait, and Cait didn’t push. What she did bring over first, was this big box with a stuffed bear’s leg sticking out from the top flaps. “Let’s see what’s inside here.” Cait saw her pull out the bear. It was like half her size, almost. It was big and soft and when Auntie put it against her, she hugged it and then sneezed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I should have realized it would have dust on it.” Cait didn’t let go though. “What’s it’s name?” “Well, most kids name the toys they are given.” “But…. Should you give it me?” Cait asked. “It was… his… right?” she pointed at the dresser. “Cait, sweetheart, this bear wouldn’t do him any good right now. It was a very comforting toy for him when he most needed a friend. Now he doesn’t need it as much, he’d probably be happy it had found a new use, and it could make someone else feel the comfort he needed when he needed it.” Cait looked down. “Really?” “Do you like the bear?” “I love it!” Chapter Nineteen Kookaburra “I can name the bear anything I want?” Cait looked up at the lady. “Even though someone named it already?” “Yes, child. That’s what children do with toys. They rename them when the toy becomes theirs. This Bear is now ready to help you, not anyone but you, until you don’t want and need it anymore, then it might go to another child that needs its tenderness.” “Can I even call it Kookaberry?” Eiboline chuckled and smiled. She was looking through the box. “Where’d you get a name like that, sweetheart?” “It’s a song I learned last year. Kookaburra sitting in the old gum tree…” She sang the first phrase of the song. It’s kind of a happy song. Kookaburra makes you happy so I want my bear to be a name that makes me happy.” “That sounds like a perfect name for the old helpful bear, then. Do you see the bear as a he or a her?” “I think he,” Cait whispered. “The room, the clothes, the stuff that was here when the bear was here first, it’s all boy stuff. The bear must be a boy.” Eiboline didn’t answer. She seemed to take a while to rummage in the big box as if there were too many things in there for her to decide what to pull out next. When she did pull something out, it was a few of the blocks near the bottom that she then had to reach around for and eventually get them all. They were those old fashion kind that were just wooden three dimensional shapes, but kids would use to make structures with. Cait carefully sat Kookaberry on the bed and whispered to it. “You sit and watch, okay? There’s a ghost here somewhere. Tell me if you see her. You’ll know her because she comes all raggy and she has this skirt on that has all pee stains, and she looks really sad but she’s also always got something mean—true—but mean to say.” Cait smiled as the bear seemed to smile at her as if it was agreeing to tell her. Cait looked from Kookaberry to Auntie Eiboline. “What if I get pee on the Kookaberry? I probably can’t sleep with it.” “Child, the bear will be up by your pillow. You will be holding it, probably in the same elbow you sometimes suck your thumb with. If I come and check on you and it’s not there, that’s where I’d put it. He should be safe from getting peed on, sweetheart. Besides, he’s on your side. If uncle Sean doesn’t mind, Kookaburra won’t either.” “He’s not Kookaburra,” Cait whispered because contradicting adults is a bad idea. “I mean. Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just it’s Kooka-BERRY,” and though she paused to say the berry part, it was probably softer than the kooka part. “I’m sorry, pet. I misheard its name the first time. I’ll try to remember.” She didn’t tell me I was wrong? Cait looked up at her confused. She’s not mad I got a little bit mad that it didn’t get it name said right? Auntie Eiboline didn’t even tell me it just a thing not real. She… she is different. The ghost wasn’t there. The bear didn’t know her very well. There were no against her remarks when she said that Auntie Eiboline was different. She put the bear carefully on the pillow before moving to the floor to see what the nice grandma-aunt was now putting out for her. “Those are real blocks,” Cait whispered. “Not books and boxes, and other things you find around to make something… but real blocks. I couldn’t play these outside. They too small and too nice.” “These are inside toys, Cait, remember? Do you take books outside to play with?” Cait looked down. “I get in trouble when I get caught.” Auntie smiled down at her. “Well, that is as it should be I suppose. Books are not outside toys, Cait. But given your limited experiences, I can see why you did what you did. Please don’t take books outside with you in this house unless you mean to try to read them. Lots of people read outside, and that’s okay.” Cait looked up at her. “I don’t read good. I not doing no school work in the summer, but if Auntie tells me to—I try.” Auntie sighed sadly. Shaking her head she pulled through the box again, this time pulling out a speak-n-spell toy. “I don’t know if you’d want this one, then,” the Auntie frowned. “This toy helps kids spell, but it can only help if you want to use it.” “Auntie is tricky….” I heard a soft whispering voice of the ghost, but it was quickly cut off with a short snap of the Bear biting at word until it was broken up. “Auntie (bite bite) is (chomp) tri...(bite bite chomp).” The eeriness that was supposed to float through the hair hit something like a small boat in rough crashing waves around it. It sounded more comical than it should have, and Cait seemed to giggle at nothing. Cait considered the bear for a minute. She thought about how Sean’s shoulders were strong enough hold back things that Auntie Eiboline didn’t want to handle, and she thought about the bear biting at the ghost’s words. It didn’t bother or touch the ghost itself, but it broke the words up. Uncle Sean, he didn’t attack Daddy, really, but he called him off when it was dinner time yesterday. Both Auntie and Uncle tag team told Daddy to let Cait eat. She was even quietly wetting a little bit at the table, and came and sat in more pee than she thought at first as she ate, but they kept pulling him towards what they wanted to know at the moment and away from him telling them all her troubles and faults while she listened. The Bear. It didn’t hurt the ghost just like Uncle didn’t hurt daddy. But Uncle didn’t let daddy talk when it was too harsh, and the bear didn’t let the ghost’s mean words in. Maybe the boy loved Uncle because maybe Uncle protected the boy, too. Maybe Kookaberry learned to protect by watching Uncle Sean? “Well,” Eiboline seemed to see how Cait shivered or something and how her mouth wanted to say no, no, no to the speak-n-spell. “We can put that toy up for a little longer. Maybe it will come in useful next year or something when you into fifth grade and need a little more help, then.” Cait breathed. Did the Bear just change Auntie’s mind, too? The toy was repacked, and Auntie brought out some toy cars. “I know they aren’t typical girl toys, but I’m sorry we only have boy….” Cait hadn’t even heard Auntie’s apologies at all. She ran right to the orange plastic van with detailed seats of white inside it. She pushed it back and forth on the floor testing it, and it still rolled. “It’s Kookaberry’s motor bike,” Cait said taking it to the bear. “Auntie found your favorite bike that has little van like sitting for the little things you protect, too.” I don’t know when Auntie stopped pulling things out of the box. In my logical mind, I knew exactly where I’d put the stuffed bear, under my pillow, but in my world, I build a little block city around the floor space between my wardrobe and the open door in front of my bed. Kookaberry had shrunk to the size of the people that would live in the block houses, and I put a block on the top of the van… a siren. Kookaberry was the Ajax of the police. He arrested even the police that did bad things so no one can make up rules that were not fair and then take you to jail for no good reason. Chapter Twenty Even Among the Cards Cait is alone. The city is built. The van is patrolling with the single block on top as the siren. The siren is flashing yellow. Not red. Red and blue are scary. They mean you’re in trouble. It’s yellow. It’s the Ajax of the town not arresting someone for an unfair rule that was broken. It’s going out of town. It leaves the blocks completely and stops at the base of the dresser. “Cait! No!” The ghost warns the girl. “You can’t touch. You promised. She’ll get mad!” “I’m not touching,” Cait frowned. “I’m not.” She was speaking in whispers, that Kookaberry could hear, that any other person that may have been in the room could hear, but it didn’t carry off to wherever Aunie went to let her play. The small orange plastic van was parked at the base of the dresser. The toy blocks were on the other side of the bed far from the boundary set for the town. Was the bear telling another place what to do, and he can’t because it’s not his town? Cait shrugged. “If Sean had been in our farm when Daddy told me to lie on purpose in my matt and pee in it, and he told him no, maybe I wouldn’t have an orange stained mat at home to sleep in.” She felt her face contort from light play to a serious frown of realization. “I needed Sean to tell me to just get up from the mat. It wouldn’t solve anything, but it would mean a dry place to sleep at night and less stinkiness at school. Pee by the door instead of pee in the bed. That’s better, right?” Kookaberry nodded at the ghost. The ghost shrugged. “Don’t touch the dresser,” the ghost told Cait. “I won’t.” Mommy horse told Kookaberry on the dog and on the other things in charge. Mommy horse is Auntie, taking care of a poor orphan that its mother can’t be found now. That’s why everyone can pick on the cult, but the mommy horse doesn’t like it. She tells Kookaberry. “It may not be my concern, but I can’t help it. That little feelie? Is that what a little horse called? Well, that what is in this world.” And Cait continued. “Kookaberry? They don’t let her go to the toilet. They say she’s too weak. They say she’s too stupid. They say she makes it messy for the others, and they get mad when she wets on the ground. I can’t go against the kind of the farm!” Kookaberry nods. “That’s why the Ajax of the land is. That is my job. I trump every King. You see it in the deck of cards, don’t you? The King should be the top, and the A is the lowest Card, but then the A jumps on the King, and the King can’t fight. The A always wins.” The mama horse nodded. “You will take care of the Kalt from now on.” Cait spells Colt as Kalt. “You are its mommy unless we find her later.” Mama horse nods her whole front at the King. “Cait! You touched!” the ghost startled her and she saw indeed, her hands had the mama horse tilting at the air. Cait quickly put the horse back and ran back to the town with her van and her bear knocking over a few blocks as she did so. She didn’t mean to! “You put the toy back,” the ghost whispered. “It’s our secret like the pre-pees. No one knows.” “Kookaberry knows.” “He’s not gonna tell, though. He knows you were just being Cait. That’s why Daddy says you’re stupid though. It wasn’t Kookaberry’s place to tell the mama horse anything, and he still didn’t talk to the dog, yet. Mama horse will get in trouble if Kookaberry doesn’t pay the dog a visit later. But you can’t touch. You just tell and then you leave it.” Cait nodded though she wasn’t even sure the moment her hands had touched the toy horse. She had been watching the baby horse for a long while though, and she had see it and the way it was separated from it’s now Eiboline Auntie, so it must be in the right place. “Don’t think about it, Cait. If you think too much, you’ll move it wrong. If it gets too far from where it should be, they will know you broke the rule.” “Cait,” the bear muscled in and pushed the ghost not out, but to the side. “If I may be of help here. The boy had his moments like these. I can tell you what helped the boy most.” “We can’t trust you yet, Kooka….” Cait closed her eyes on the ghost fully sending it away. “You don’t to get to talk to Kookaberry like that. I trust him,” she whispered into the quiet that didn’t answer back. The bear became quiet, too, and now, Cait had to guess at what the bear was going to say. “Stupid ghost!” “Cait?!” Cait heard her name and her mind flashed back to some days before where she had been the wanderer again. “Cait!” screams echoed around the lands that daddy managed, but Cait was lying on her back, looking up at the clouds, and didn’t seem to hear maybe the first dozen shouts for her. “Cait! I’m warning you!” Her big sister, Grainne, though she herself would never do anything to Cait, Cait knew what the warning was. Daddy will know. She wasn’t supposed to be unfindable. Cait grabbed the bear from the bed and held it out in front of her as a shield, still wondering what he wanted to tell her about. Auntie’s shouts never said “I’m warning you,” and Cait knew she called up at her at least twice that she heard. She got to the bottom stair. She had pre-pee in her thick boy underpants that no one looked for yet. She looked at her feet, not because of the pre-pee. That was still not visible or a rule she had broken. She felt heavy though in her heart. She knew that she did something. Auntie reached her hands out, and Cait shivered wondering if she already knew about the dresser, but she just pushed Cait’s hair back around her ears and back, like she did when she first met her the day before at the car. “Are you okay, pet?” Auntie was asking if she was okay? Her Heart felt like it had ice stabbed into it. The ice felt sharp, cold, evil. Cait had disturbed something private, maybe even Auntie’s pre-pee, but Auntie was worried about her. She shivered. “Okay…,” she shook as the word sounded like it bounced around in the air. “Cait, if you had an accident, you know you don’t need to hide it,” Auntie Eboline frowned. “Tell me, what’s wrong, sweetheart?” “I…” Cait’s tongue felt heavy. It was an anvil in her mouth. Her lips moved, but the tongue didn’t, and the air was nearly missing that came out. She couldn’t. “Auntie can check your underwear, if that’s easier, kiddo. It’s okay.” Cait shook her head. A quiet nearly mouthed whisper touching the air and nothing more than that seemed to be more just-a-minded thing than spoken. “It’s not pee.” The Bear seemed to move up in front of Cait’s mouth, it’s great little sharp white teeth filling its mouth from moment to moment as it conveyed in a sound vaguely like Cait’s own. “She’s scared,” the Bear’s voice sounded more confidence and in control. But Auntie, she tilted her head and asked. “Scared?” Did Auntie hear the bear, too? Cait looked from the back of the bear to around at Auntie Eiboline her mouth moving. She licked her lips and moved her mouth again. Nothing. The bear got in her way. It seemed to roar in Cait’s ears, but not in a way to fright, but in a way that gave her fear a voice. “She’s had a different kind of accident. A touching accident.” Auntie nodded and sat on the stair. “Well…,” she picked the bear out of Cait’s hands. “Why don’t you whisper it to me so the whole house doesn’t know what you mean?” Even as she said this, she was looking at Cait with shiny, listening, Cait matters, eyes. Cait heard. “She put the horse right back where it goes. She did. But she was so far in her head, that she touched one of the many things on the dresser that you asked her not to. She’s scared that you’re mad now. The ghost said it will keep her secret. It shut me up, but I told Cait, if she tells you the truth, that has always served… the master of dresser well.” The Bear was Just-a-minded thing for her again, whispering what Cait’s own mouth seemed to mouth but she felt no air in them, and the anvil held her tongue in the way that it only made sense that the Bear was talking. “Shall we go up and see what harm was done?” Auntie Eiboline asked the bear and then passed it back to me. “Let’s see what was moved, pet.” Why doesn’t Auntie sound mad? Why isn’t she talking about touching what doesn’t belong to you, especially after she let me play with all the other toys and gave me Kookaberry? Eiboline lifted Cait up and carried her gently patting her butt that was still quite dry from the outside. The floor by the bed was in a chaotic town map with a few of the building knocked over, scattered, and shattering other buildings from Cait’s quick retreat around the corner to her side of the bed. Auntie stepped over it, preserving her own scene just the same as she had preserved the one of the dresser. “I don’t see anything moved,” Eiboline whispered. “Nothing is out of place.” I pointed my finger at the mama horse just past the lonely little baby one. “Is that the one you moved?” I nodded. “Show me.” I lifted up the back the way I remember doing and then set it down. “That’s all you did?” There was a little silence. “You know, even Auntie Eiboline accidentally bumps the dresser and has to set up a few knocked over pieces sometimes.” I felt my pre-pee pat-pat-patter pat pat into my boy undies. “If you bump the dresser or you happen to touch one of the things on it, that is likely a very hard rule for a ten year old to follow all the time. Even I have to break it to stand an animal back up. How about we adjust the rule that you don’t move them out of their place. What that means is, if you see one fallen over, if you happen to touch one and catch yourself, as long as you put it back as close to as you remember it, you can always tell me you accidentally touched it. The boundary is, you don’t touch more than one at a time, and you carefully fix it, if you realize you moved something. It’s not about perfection, Cait. It’s about where the toys were when…. Well, you put them back exactly. Don’t lose any and put them back, and then tell me you accidentally touched it.” I looked up at her. My panties felt more warm drizzle just stopping. I felt my butt but it was still dry. “You’re not mad?” “I’m furious that you disobeyed, Cait, but I’m also furious that I put an expectation on a child that wasn’t fair. Those are still toys up there. It’s tempting, but I can’t move them. Some day, I’ll tell you why, but I can’t right now. So, let’s just go to dinner, and let’s not worry about what you and I did wrong for a few minutes. We both need time to breathe.” Cait scratched her head. Auntie didn’t even yell. How did Auntie do something wrong? I started to put the Bear on the bed. “Cait?” “Yeah?” “Don’t you want Kookaberry with you when you eat?” “I didn’t know things were allowed at the table.” “Things, no,” Auntie said with a small smirk on her lips. “Things that are just play things do not belong at the table, but right now, Kookaberry is helping you learn to be a big girl. You need your companion, lass. All wee ones need their companions wherever they are.” I hugged Kookaberry. “You not taking him away after I broke your rule and touched your toys?” “Do you know the saying that two wrongs don’t make a right?” Auntie asked. I shrugged. “Well, two wrongs do NOT make a right. That’s one philosophy you won’t like repeated when you are teenager getting even with someone, but right now, it also applies to your Auntie taking something I know you need. Just because you touched something important to me, and I may need to think about whether you need corrected for it, it’s not right that that correction is taking something you need right now, child. Two wrongs don’t make a right… not for kids to do it, and if not kids, then certainly adults.” I looked up into her sincere frowning face, and I knew she was telling me something she really believed. If it was a lie, she didn’t know she was lying yet, and I hadn’t seen the lie, at least from her. Now Daddy… well… Daddy lies all the time, I realized. Cait’s thumb in her mouth, her arm around the bear, and Auntie carrying her, she landed at the table where Sean smiled. “precious creature!” Cait smiled at him and pulled her thumb from her mouth. “Kookaberry told on me, and Mrs. Kinsella, Auntie, um… Auntie-grandma didn’t even take him away from me.” “Now.” seemed to be the only word in Uncle Sean’s thoughts. “You can hold Kookaberry or you can put him in the empty seat at the table. Your choice, pet,” Auntie Eiboline whispered. As I sat there, pushing my legs together trying to mind the recess rule that you don’t go when you just came from play, but the bear was in my head. “You said you trusted me,” Kookaberry reasoned. “Did I get you in trouble when I explained how you had an accident with your hand?” I shook my head no as I felt more pat-pat-patting-pit pat pat in my underwear. “Your panties are wet. They’re not just damp, Cait. You know it’s going to itch and feel gross if you sleep in these like this. Even if you get to the bathroom without a pool on the floor…. Didn’t Uncle and Auntie say you could tell them you were wet? They meant like, now, when you know it.” “It’s not pee,” I accidentally said it out loud. “It’s just… almost pee.” Uncle and Auntie looked at each other and then at me. “Cait? Sweetheart?” Sean whispered. “Should you go to the toilet right now, Lass? You know it’s okay to go, don’t you?” “The rule,” I whispered. The Bear said it for me with his just-a-minded thing again. “The rule...” came out stronger followed with the rest of the phrase. “...is that after you play, you can wait an hour. It’s a school rule, and it’s Daddy’s rule.” Sean shook his head. “Not in this Goddamned house it’s not,” and he moved directly to me and started to carry me. “You don’t suffer in silence, child. I don’t care if we told you to go to the bathroom a minute ago, if you suddenly need to go, you get to go anyway if there is an empty bathroom, you just go. If there isn’t, then we find you one as soon as we can. You can’t practice keeping your underpants dry if you are scared you missed the chance to go, child.” He took me right into the bathroom, and he stripped the pants and the wet soggy underwear down my legs and put me on the toilet. “Remember what I said about asking for help if you are scared to go to the toilet, Cait? That means in the day, too. You don’t suffer in silence, and you don’t worry about this,” and he held up the soaked underwear I had just had on. “You just tell us… You just say, Uncle Sean, I didn’t mean to, but I had an accident again, and I… can I change my underwear because it’s not all the way out, but it feels gross… or you say it how best tells what you need from us. If you need to be changed because you are still nervous to change without permission, then one of us will change our little Cait-a-kins! If we are driving and you can’t make it and need permission to wet your pants because it hurts to hold it. You can ask, if you need permission. But, Cait-a-kins? You do have the right to wet your pants when it’s hurting or too hard to hold it.” Uncle Sean made up a hyphen word with my name! I giggled. Chapter Twenty-One Cait’s Ajax The last time Cait sat in dry underwear at the dinner table, she wouldn’t have been able to remember it. Every dinner at home, every lunch at school, every time. The only meals she was dry for until then, that she could remember, was because Grainne had to give her a bath before breakfast when they had school. That was it. Cait sat in just boy underpants and a shirt at the table, but she wasn’t bothered. It didn’t feel wrong to her. It felt like… it was just a different rule. It was the Ajax rule of the house. Daddy’s rule didn’t overrule the Ajax. If Uncle needed her in just underwear, and they were dry, then that trumps the wet panties and skirt from before. Dinner was wrapping up, and Cait stood immediately and started to move her plate. “Where are you going?” Uncle Sean asked her though his mouth looked more playful than serious. “I was going to help Auntie clean….” “Auntie says you made pickles, cleaned up the hallway mess earlier upstairs, fetched water, and even vacuumed the hall upstairs and in the living room today.” “I… I did.” I whispered. “So, when does a child get a chance to be a little girl?” Sean asked Cait. “What do you meat?” “Cait, what I mean…, is that a child needs time to play and time to just be. Bring your bear to the living room.” Uncle Sean said it was her bear, too? “And then you go upstairs, and you bring anything you want to play with down here with me, and let me watch the news and get a few minutes with with my little cousin-niece.” “Wait. You want me to make a mess in the living room?” “A mess? What’s messy about bringing toys to play with?” “I could bring the spell-and-school thingy.” Sean looked over at Auntie Eiboline and she frowned and shook her head sharply over Cait’s while Sean still held her eyes in his. “No. Not that, Cait. We can work with that some other time.” He bent down and picked her up. “Let’s get some toys YOU want to play with. And bring a whole set as long as it’s not on the farm shrine.” Cait looked up at Uncle Sean and then over at Auntie Eiboline. Uncle Sean had a strong smile and a nodding head while Auntie just smiled and had her hands folded in front of her like she wasn’t disagreeing with him. “And it’s allowed?” Cait still couldn’t believe it. Sean responded by starting to walk with her in his arms, carrying her, again, like she was a little girl, but like he wanted her to be his little girl. He patted her back as he walked her towards the bedroom. “I guess the bear knows you by now, pretty well, does he?” Sean asked. “Did you name him, or… actually I guess you’d probably have found it to be a her, right?” “No,” Cait said brightly and almost with a playful defiance. “It’s him. His name is Kookaberry.” “That’s a mouthful. Why that?” “A Kookaberra sitting in the old gum tree,” she shrugged with a smile. “It’s just the song. I just made the end berry though because berry sounds happy like the sound in the song when the Kookaberra is laughing while eating the gumdrops.” “Do you know what a Kookaburra is?” Sean asked. “No.” “We should go to the library next week so we can see what it is. If you’re gonna name your companion after it, you should probably know a thing or two about it.” “You could just tell me.” “I could. But there are a few problems. One, I’m not sure exactly what kind of animal it is, but I know it’s an animal. Two, I’m not sure why the song says it laughs, but I am guessing it’s something like laughing hyenas, but it’s best to check than to assume and be wrong.” “Assume?” “It means you make a guess that you think you worked out, but it might be wrong.” “Oh.” “So, let’s see what we have in here,” he looked around the bedroom. Auntie Eiboline had been busy in there, even working around Cait though Cait had not paid attention at all to what she had been doing in her play story. He opened the toy box, and he found the little woodland’s sets. It had a Raccoon family and house set, it had a Rabbit family and house set, and it had so many things in it, that Cait was almost sorry she hadn’t see them before and added them to the town. “Is it too much to bring those-s once?” Cait asked looking at the sets she envisioned was like a town?” “As long as you don’t mind going all the carrying back and forth. Uncle wants to play with his own toy, the television, but I’ll help you bring as many as I can for the first trip. After that, it’s up to you to bring what you want.” “What about cleaning up time? I guess maybe I should just bring the houses and leave the families up here. That way the town is….” “Nonsense, Cait. You can’t have a town without populating it. The little houses come with families. We’ll figure out what needs to be cleaned up and what can wait until another time to clean up. It’s not hurting anything if you keep your little town out of the walkway. That’s all that matters.” “Just keep it out of the walking way? But what if I don’t know where that is? I not really been in your living place before.” “Then Uncle will set the first few hours down so you can see the boundaries, and if the town is big enough after you see how much room you have, then you can use your blocks to fill in the gaps, unless you want your town here it is up here, but where it is, Cait, it’s in a walking path. It’s going to get knocked down all the time, and I can curse pretty good if I step on something in a walk path that I don’t notice.” Cait put her finger on her lips gain. “If Uncle is okay with it, I can bring the block town down to fill around the forest critter houses.” “Good girl.” He called me good again! I looked for the ghost. “He keeps called me good, just so you know!” “Don’t ask me. He’s just weird. They both are. Maybe your Dad knew that they are like this, and that’s why ask them to keep you. He thinks you won’t annoy them, and he thinks they will be easier on you than you getting in the way and getting yelled at all the time.” “That accidentally makes sense,” Cait said with accidentally meaning with real intent the way another word she can’t think of should be used there. “Daddy been kind of nice about not caring if I pee the bed now, if I just don’t get up and make messes. He even been nice about me pee all the way in the hallway, if I don’t keep moving after I am peed on. Maybe he wants someone not to mind me if I pee and to just be okay that I will do it?” “I mean, he still hates when you do it at school though, so I don’t know….” the ghost seemed like it was contradicting itself. “Your dad isn’t even a dog here, Cait,” Kookaberry seemed to interject. “The dog that calls itself Ford’s master is off in another land terrorizing people I can’t get to right now, so he’s not important to us, here and now. So ghost, go back to sleep until you have something important to do. She’s safe here.” “She can’t forget her Daddy’s rules though. She will be going back after the summer.” “Well, we’ll see about that,” Kookaberry frowned at the ghost. “In the mean time, though, she can learn what is allowed here.” The ghost faded. I had toys all over the extremely large corner Sean laid out for me. It wasn’t a little space at all. I couldn’t even make my town of blocks take it all up, even by making the each block one building or house to itself. It was like… Uncle Sean gave me…. I don’t know if half is right because I not good at math, but I know that if I try to make the living room into four places, I had more than one of those and how much of a second, I wasn’t sure. It was a lot of space though. There was so much space, in fact, that as the clock by the doorway that went into the kitchen started to move to the little hand at the nine and the big hand at the seven, and I laid down, Kookaberry in my arm, and my thumb in my mouth, I started to close my eyes. I knew I wasn’t supposed to put my thumb in my mouth at home, but the two times Auntie and Uncle saw me, they just let me. So I did it. I was lying on the floor next to my stuff, and I was still in the space that Uncle said was my town. Looking over, he smiled. “Getting sleeping, child?” I nodded with my head still on the floor. “I’m not letting you go up there in wet underwear, child. Come here. I want to see if we need some clean underwear on you, and after we make sure you are comfortable, then you can lie in uncles lap for a bit until you fall asleep.” I pulled my thumb out of my mouth. “You supposed to put babies to bed,” I whispered. “No, Cait. You put children who are tuckered out that you can still carry to bed regardless of their age…, if you love them.” I frowned. It was another of Daddy’s rules that the Ajax just trumped again. “Okay.”

Chapter Ten Allowed to Not Know Anything Yet Cait’s feet landed on the hard plastic like floor or something her pee wet sandals on the floor. Her skirt was sticking to her butt and her back. She shivered. The tall pretty woman that she was told was Auntie Eiboline, her mom’s cousin, was turning the knobs for the bathtub water splouter. “Be a good girl and take off your shoes,” the woman’s voice was soft. It wasn’t yelling. It wasn’t stage whispering. It wasn’t mad. “Then your skirt, Pet.” Cait pull at her Sandals with the toe of her sandals on the back of the heel plate under the lower strap in back. The Sandals were dingy, dirty, and pee-soaked. Auntie turned to face her after the water splouter was on full. The white cloudy stuff that rises from baths that Grainne, Clodagh, Mom, and dad took was present in the tub now. This kind of smoke doesn’t come from the baths that Cait or the two younger sisters get. They run out of hot water then, so it’s not cold exactly, but it’s not Grainne warm. Cait pulled at the skirt that clung to her like pasted paper against a folder. It made an icky sticky pull at her thighs and her butt as she pulled it off and down her legs. The dinginess of it made it seem more light brown than it’s original yellow color. Auntie Eiboline, (eye-bol-eyen), watched Cait for a moment as the skirt fell with a quiet almost no sound fluff of air though in Cait’s ears, there was a faint splat, too. The lady’s look at Cait, it was a long steady watching-look. It didn’t seem to narrow at the eyes, and the mouth didn’t tighten. Her cheeks didn’t narrow in. She didn’t look right for being upset about the hallway. Her hands were in her lap as she sat on the side of the tub waiting for it to fill. The soaked clammy sticky stinky panties seemed to rest there on her butt, her hands on the sides of her hips, pausing just long enough that there was no question now, that the mess made just outside the door belonged to those dirty things—to that dirty stupid girl. Soaking wet toilet tissue fell of out her panties as Cait finally took a deep breath and pulled at her panties, Accidentally turning them inside out upside downy trying to pull them down, but the wet sticky didn’t let them pull down normal and in shape. Still, the lady just smiled at her like it was the most right thing a little girl can do. As Cait struggled with her top, Auntie Eiboline called at her in a soft near whisper. “No, Cait, pet. Come. Let me help.” She didn’t know why she trusted her, nor why her legs just started, but Cait walked over. Gentling unbuttoning the three buttons at her shoulder, Auntie-grandma lifted it off of her. “Hey, Pet,” she whispered. “You don’t have to worry about little accidents, child. First, you are a child and they happen, and second, someone has to teach you that it’s okay to go to the bathroom before it gets so bad that you can’t make it.” Auntie lifted Cait’s chin to look her in the eye. “Tell me, little lady, Is that what happened? You tried to wait at the table until you couldn’t?” Cait looked down. “Stupid, like daddy says.” “No, child. Scared. There’s a reason you feel bad all the time. There’s a reason you pee your pants. We work on that together. Your job, for a while? You come and get us when you’ve peed on the floor. That’s your job, and even if it’s outside on the ground, you still come and get us. That’s your job.” “What… what if I don’t come and get you?” “Well, we can’t have you going around in soaked panties all day, even if you did have a skirt to hide it, can we? If you seem too scared to tell us you’re suffering, then would you minded if we checked on you?” Cait shrugged. “Daddy checks.” Eiboline frowned. “Yeah, well, you get a chance to try to tell us first, pet. If it seems like a while and you didn’t say anything and I don’t remember you going, then we’ll discuss it first before I just go lifting your skirt or pulling down your pants against your will. Is that alright with you?” Cait had almost a sigh in her answer. “Yeah.” Eiboline put a hand on her shoulder. “Get in, pet.” Cait looked up at her. She could see the steam in the tub, the hint that this wasn’t a cool or even a barely warm bath. It was something that only big people got at her house. Her eyes went a little wide. “Um… that’s hot water?” “It’s body temperature,” Eiboline corrected her. “You don’t think I’d burn you, do you?” “No,” Cait whispered. “I mean… it’s too hot. Only the big people and the ‘I don’t pee my pants people’ get to have water like that.” “That rule is not only stupid, Cait, but it’s actively harmful. No wonder it smells like you haven’t had a bath for week! You bathe, don’t you child?” Cait looked down. “Well, Grainne usually does it, after everyone else is done and the water is mostly all of the hot water has been used already. Daddy says I have to be last because of…,” and she looked down at her naked body which had chaffing and redness on her legs near where she pees. “Well, there are only three people in this house and our water tank for hot water is probably bigger than your family tank, so there is no reason for you to take cold baths anymore.” Cait’s eyes got big. “You are purposely letting me take a big people bath?” “Sure…, if that’s what you call it,” Eiboline had a set small frown though. She didn’t like this at all. She couldn’t do anything about what was done, nor whatever was going on with the other four children at the Weimer Farm at the moment, but she didn’t have to like it. Cait put a foot hovering over the steamy water and started to toe it, but pulled back. Eiboline smiled down at her and put a hand on her shoulder as the child’s eyes looked up at her in confusion and probably the words on her lips but not spoken. ‘It’s hot.’ “You’ll get used to it, pet. Go on. Just take it slow. That’s a girl. Sit as slowly as you need to get your body used to it. Your body will like it once you are in.” “Get in!” Grainne always had her arms crossed when Cait complained it was colder than usual. “If you didn’t wet the bed, maybe you’d get hot showers, and you peed at school today. What do you expect? Dad’s not going to trust you not to pee in the bath as long as you are peeing your pants at school, and it’s gross to sit in someone else’s pee, isn’t it?” Cait looked up Eiboline who was now started to take a small brush of the likes she had never seen before. The bristles were white and the whole brush was so small, it would easily hide in the elder woman’s hand, but she grasped the hand that was on top, not out to the side like a hairbrush, and she picked up Cait’s foot at the end of the tub and started to brush at her toe nails. She smiled as she did so. “Mom says I have to do do this,” Cait heard echoes of Grainne’s voice, always rushed and trying to hurry it because she had stuff she had to do, too. But this lady? She was smiling and she told her to sit as slowly as she wanted to get used to the bath. Her mind tried to rush sitting, but Eiboline shook her head at her and even reached in at one point and lifted her off when she noticed how Cait almost cried out because she tried to sit too fast. “Can’t you hurry up and sit right?” Grainne would say in the same situation. Cait looked up at her. The woman was taking a long time on just one foot. It wasn’t a quick wipe or a flashing you are done. She was still on the same foot in the same time that Cait though Grainne would have already been washing up her legs, that’s if Grainne ever did wash her feet, but she didn’t. Grainne washed her chest, back, face, down to her hips. Then she threw the cloth at her sister. “I’m not washing your gross parts so you can pee on me. Just. Don’t tell Daddy I didn’t wash your butt, unless you want me to actually do it, and I won’t be gentle if you make me do it.” The lady was very gentle with her feet, both of them. Then she carefully washed her fingers with the same brush, but just where the nails were. Cait felt relaxed almost. She started to close her eyes as Auntie Eiboline exchanged the brush for a wash rag, a clean, nearly new-looking to Cait’s eyes, and she wiped slowly along Cait’s arms, first, this time. The sensation was purposeful and gentle. Auntie smiling the whole time. “Good girl,” Eiboline said without a reason. Cait was just sitting still, but as her arms got clean and then her legs, one at a time, when Eiboline had them clean, she whispered. “Good girl.” Sean came to the door of the bathroom. “It’s not ideal, Cait, but there’s underwear just the same and some jeans and a plaid shirt. I hope it’s okay. They are boy’s stuff. We’ve… we’ve never had a reason to have girl clothes with us before. We thought you’d have your own stuff, so I’m sorry we didn’t think to try to buy you stuff before you came.” Cait smiled over at him. “Okay.” Her voice was still uncertain and small, but her eyes shined up at him. Her leaning into Eiboline’s gentle wiping now against her back was communication. She saw a glimpse of the boy underpants, but she didn’t care. She didn’t have to wear wet panties. That was more important. Auntie and Uncle exchanged a look though that told Cait that there was something wrong. Maybe she had reacted in a way they feared she would. But she couldn’t understand what she had done wrong. She wasn’t complaining. She knew they couldn’t help it if all they had were boy underpants for her. At least they tried to get her clean. Yet, she could feel the sadness between them as she accepted the clothing without question. “Isn’t she precious?” Eiboline asked Sean. Sean walked out of the room, sort of faster than Cait would have liked, but he wasn’t stomping. He wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t even acting like “Fine!” like you do when you know you can’t win, but you are mad anyway. No, the way he left was much too quiet to be from anger. “What did I do?” Cait whispered up at Eiboline. “Not you, pet. Not you. It’s complicated, but it’s not you.” She had a soft frown, too. “You really don’t mind the boy underpants?” Cait shook her head. “Only you and Uncle Sean going to know what I wearing under the jeans, right? I don’t have to tell people that I’m wearing boy underwear, do I?” “Of course you don’t, pet. But. I think that’s why he’s just thinking. It’s just… unheard of for a kid your age to not at least yell about it, even if you know that’s all we have. You’re… you’re just so grateful.” She smiled again. “And that’s a good quality to have. Don’t get us wrong. It’s just… a child your age… not minding. It’s sad is all.” “Why?” Cait looked up at her wondering why her being grateful she didn’t have to wear stinking wet panties was sad. “Never mind, Cait,” she smiled a soft understanding smile. “It’s complicated.” The sensation of Auntie Eiboline now cleaning her seemed to shift, not to a raging let’s get this done with, but more, to something even softer as she continued. A softness like the wispy white left overs from a nearby cloud that seem so delicate, that staring at it too long could make it dis-just-app-ear? Was that a word? It meant invisible or not be anymore. Cait sighed. She was really stupid, wasn’t she? Eiboline turned her and started to wash her chest and her stomach. Cait loved the soft warm feel of grandma-like Auntie washing her. So soft and with… with the care that what she was doing was important. That for once, Cait felt important to someone, important enough to spend time getting her cleaned right, and she didn’t fight for the rag. Not like she would have for Grainne even though she knew Grainne would win in the end. The Bath nearly over, and Eiboline being caring and careful the whole time, started to wipe Cait’s butt, but disaster struck. First, as she started to clean Cait, Eiboline pulled the cloth away to rinse it, but then stared at it like she was looking at a spider or something. Not with squeamish disgust, but just a surprised shock at seeing caked dried stuff that could have been nothing other than another sign that they didn’t not only teach her not to wipe, but they didn’t even teach her or clean her in baths. There was way too much of a buildup of dried stuff there, and she suddenly felt tears in her eyes. “Oh, child,” she said softly. “You little lass….” She went to wipe her again when Cait’s hand instinctively went up to guard her face and chest, and as the woman started to wipe the dried stuff off of her again, Cait started to sob and then it happened…. Eiboline seemed to freeze with the rag held against the little girl’s bottom. The girl shivered and cried. There was a moment of time that felt instant but eternal at the same time. Then Eiboline felt it, a filling sickening presence pushing into her hand. Cait felt it, the dried stuff against her butt and the stimulating scratching against her skin somehow caused her to forget herself or something. Without warning, she felt her stomach just push. It wouldn’t stop, but Cait wanted it to. She froze as she felt another push against the hand that was still on her butt. She started to sob. Her hands instinctively guarding her face and chest. And before Eiboline realized it, nor Cait, Eiboline was pulling her hand rag back, a hand full of poop in her hand and the water turning disgusting as Cait’s body kept going. She was crying now. Eiboline moved to the sink to wash her hands off, and she looked back at the crying little girl, and not one line of disgust filled her eyes. Something more from the heart made her call. “Sean! Get this baby out of the tub! Now!” Cait looked up cautiously, though her fingers of her hands, her wet blue eyes peeking at the adults, but neither of them looked mad, exactly. “She… she might still be pooping. You’ll want to be prepared for her to get poop on your hands. She… she just did it. There wasn’t any evil smirk, there wasn’t a gasp, it just happened, and then she got scared and started crying, Sean! Something is emotionally and terrifying wrong, here. We can’t send her back to that!” Sean lifted the child, and indeed, poop was still coming out, but he held her anyway and he gave a great sigh. “Hey, Cait, don’t be scared,” he whispered. “It’s okay. We’ll get it cleaned up. You’re okay.” Cait’s mind drifted back again to some other time as she shifted and shook in Sean’s hand. She had tears spilling down the sides of her face. Her hands tightened into fists as she shook as more poop pushed into Sean’s caring hands as he held her as if the pooping didn’t matter, his hands making a seat for her to sit in while she leaned in at his chest. She smelled—bad. Liquid stuff came out after a moment splattering Sean, and still he just held her and started to coo a song at her. It was a song she hadn’t heard before, and she didn’t understand the words, but the melody was calming and it helped her hands relax. The more she relax, the more the poop came out freely until she finished. She laid her head on Sean’s chest, and her eyes closed. “She’s worn out,” she heard Sean whisper, and then the lights went out. The night was dark, the sky was blue. Around the corner, a window up on the second floor with a small part in the curtain that allowed the moon to shine, we peek in at a heavy breathing child. Her eyes are closed, but she has pulled the blankets closer to her body and tightened herself into a little cocoon. There is a little bit of Cait’s pre-pee, just a small damp spot where she had turned away dragging the blankets over her in her sleep. There was no awareness—until—the sat up, her eyes wide and her left hand, shaking, pushed itself inside the tightly wrapped blanket burrito where she felt her panties. “pre-pee,” she whispered to herself. Chapter Eleven The Night Her eyes cast around the room and saw a partly open curtain that let in a little of night time sparkles from the moon and the start, now allowing her eyes to sharpen and see the ancient wardrobe against a wall, a door partly left open. A dresser against the opposite wall from where the open door to her other side was closer to the wardrobe. Two windows in the room. One window that faced her as she stared to the foot of the bed and to that wall, and one widow over the dresser. There was a toy chest near the dresser. Did she see toys on the dresser? The scent of the blankets were fresh and warm. These blankets, until now, smelled as though they had been ever untainted by the likes of this girl whose bottom had pressed a little pre-pee into the sheets where she sat. Her stomach sat full. There was no clock in here. There was only night light outside. It wasn’t even pre-dawn when the light should pale before the sun rises. It was clearly night. “What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?” started to flash like the old tornado warnings that sometimes flashed across television screens in the 1980s during severe summer storms. Her legs and arms shook. “I can’t wet the bed. It’s… it’s not mine to wet! What will they do to me? Even if grandma-auntie doesn’t get mad, will they decide that I am trouble just like daddy says? Will she stop treating me like she did yesterday? Yesterday…. Someone wanted to talk to me.” She closed her eyes and tried to see if she could feel how much sleep was inside her. She grasped at whatever clues she could pick up. Could she see the moon enough outside to know if it was rising, mid sky, or falling? Would she even know where the moon should rise from or fall to? She’d never seen the night sky after lights out. The curtains were always pulled shut on her, to hide the shame that she slept on a mat on the floor between two beds, and that mat was stained so deep it was more orange than white. Always hide the shame. That was the most important rule daddy made. If you hide it, at least it’s only a family secret. If someone sees you do it, then it’s a family shame. “How long?” Cait whispered into the dark. “Until you pee your pants?” the wicked taunt returned its voice more faint than the last time it appeared. “Yeah?” Cait answered the ghost. “Or… until morning? Can I pee on the floor instead of the bed?” There was quiet for a bit. The ghost’s answer wasn’t immediate. “You can’t wet on the floor,” Cait heard her inner voice that didn’t seem as smirky this time. “You can’t. They’ll know you did it on purpose, if you do it on the floor. If you don’t want them to hate you….” Cait looked over at the partly open wardrobe. She shook not wanting to think for a moment. “It can’t be the bed, though.” Her thumb went into her mouth. She thought the shadows of the room moved, but did they? Did any time pass. “I can’t pee the bed, though. I can’t.” “Well, if you can get to the kitchen…,” the ghost advised. “… breakfast, and just use the rule, you can’t interrupt, and then pee your pants?” “But… then I could use the toilet?” The ghost didn’t answer. The darkness seemed to become more… not light… but less obscure. It was almost revealing to Cait as she looked at the partly open wardrobe, the closet door made of darker wood that she didn’t see just before right next to her bed, in fact, on the other side of the wall of the door that her headrest was on. It was fully closed, but she could now make out the coppery hand circle parts for your hands to slide it open. There were shoes under the dresser, shined, brown ones maybe. The toys on the dresser were… not baby toys at all. Cait’s thumb in her mouth popped out of her mouth as she realize the toys on the dresser were… a water gun. Even teenagers play with those. There were farm animals set up across it with meticulously placed fences and each animal stood up on its own. These were not clumsy big things that toddlers chewed on. They were little figurines used to tell a child’s story. There was a little box that she couldn’t quite make out what product it was supposed to protect when new, but it was small enough, it elevated a dog on the box. It was like the dog looked at all the others. The big animals, they were all looking at the dog. The baby animals, they were looking at the big animals that looked like them, or they were frozen in mid action, one little one following another, almost as if someone took a picture of the babies playing tag while the dog barked at the others. Cait could almost imagine the dog barking, but his barking was understood as words by all the animals round his box though still separated behind their own squares of fences. Cait returned her thumb to her mouth. What if one of the little animals, one that was chasing the other little ones, was like her? It was too small to look at the dog, but too big to really be by its mother, and it was frozen, looking at the dresser top, poop in it’s invisible panties? Cait sighed and the ghost, still leaving it’s smirk in the garage where daddy was supposed to do things but forgot about them, whispered. “That little girl colt there? The one looking at the other horses playing, but its body angled at it’s mom? The one that has invisible poopy panties? That’s you,” the ghost told her. “You can’t escape the pre-pee, and that means you will pee your pants even if you don’t want the Kinsella people to know. Even if the nice lady is there to take care of you, you know, Auntie-grandma Eiboline? Even if she is watching, she’s looking at the dog? See? The other big horse, it’s body nearly shielding the little pooped pants little horse from the dog, but its head is turned to the dog. You know who the dog is, don’t you?” Cait gulped. Another little pre-pee drizzle slipped into her panties and wet the blankets she was rolled in. “He’s always watching. He will know if you don’t pee the bed. What if he knows you do it at home but not here? He’ll think you did it on purpose all those years, won’t he? He’ll hit. He will.” “Wait,” Cait told the ghost. What if there isn’t even any poop in the pony’s panties? What if it’s just pre-pee? Maybe it’s trying to find a place go? That’s why it’s not with the other running and tagging horses over there? Maybe she’s scared to play with the other little horses until she finds a place to poop?” “I don’t know…,” the ghost whispered. “She is separated from the playing horses and she’s not by her mommy horse. Maybe she is looking for a toilet. But what do horses use? I mean, if they are like people, they can’t use the toilet, they are made for those, and if they are like people, they can’t just let it go on the ground or in their panties. They’d be too smart…. So what would they use?” “I don’t know, Cait whispered around her thumb. A ditch?” “The edge of the dresser?” The ghost suggested. “The horses are fenced off to the middle of the dresser. She can’t get there, can she?” Cait shook her head. That’s… that’s why she’s in the middle of pooping her panties instead of it already is in them. She’s trying to find a way, but she’s starting to not make it.” The bathroom is just down the hall. Cait had seen this room earlier, when she peed in the hallway by the toilet door. It wasn’t more than ten steps from the bedroom door, and the minutes she’s out of bed on the door side, she’s already at the door. She just has to get up. “If you pee on the floor…,” The ghost’s whisper seemed to fade before it could finish its words. Cait pushed her hands into her panties, trying to feel how wet she was. She was wet. But it wasn’t soaked. She can do it, right? She stared into the hall. The other room that faced her door across the hall was Sean’s room. He was the dog in this house, right? But what if he’s not? What if daddy is still telling them what to do, with the phone or with letters, or somehow, magically? If she goes in the hall, that will be it. She will have to make it to the toilet if she takes even one step from here. Cait sucked her thumb. The dog’s door stayed closed. The light that spilled out halfway between the bedrooms from the fully open bathroom door…. It was calling to her. It was saying that it was warm there. Cait checked her panties again with her other hand, not the one in her mouth—ew! And she took a deep breath puffing out her chest. Can I? She felt her legs shaking as she stood there, uncertain. Her body shuddered. A little pre-pee escaped. Her eyes looked over the edge of the hall. The hands. In Cait’s head it was 4 and 6. Was that morning? She didn’t know. She stepped shivering into the hall. Nothing bad happened. No one yelled. No pre-pee. She took another step. She was doing it. She was leaving the bedroom. Her panties were wet, but the floor was dry. She was moving. The light was getting closer. What was that? The little girl froze after four steps and listened. She didn’t know. Did she hear something? Was it just the toy dog barking at her to stop her, or was it telling to go? She didn’t know. It felt like she was being watched. It felt like something heard her. It felt like she was being judge. Pre-pee started to pat-pat in her panties. It wasn’t stopping. It wasn’t pre-pee! “Stop!” she felt the dog staring at her from the direction to the other bedroom. You’re peeing, little girl. You are going to go into the bathroom and continue making a defiant trail?” She was halfway between the bathroom and her bedroom. The bed. She had to return…. When she turned, she saw the inner ghost. “If you move… you are flooding. Look!” So caught up in her panic, the little redheaded girl with hair in every wild ghost-like unmanageable visage that it may seem if a kid put her hands in the electric wall place, that’s her hair, and she just froze. “The Rule, Cait,” her ghost reminded her. “No trail back to bed. That will get you in less trouble. It will look less like you started and didn’t know you were wetting, than if you leak on the way back. Just… do it, Cait.” The sound was quiet though, and defeated. “You tried. What happens, happens. But don’t let them say you didn’t. Don’t make them a trail that they can say you went knowing you were peeing, right?” Chapter Twelve The Morning Cait sighed, nodded, curled up on the floor, and closed her eyes, and peed, and then she stayed there, peeing her pants and then falling asleep in the cold. The cold lonely place meant the blankets didn’t get more of Cait on them. Meant, she stayed where she was supposed to. Mean’t she didn’t dirty anything else. She was a good girl. Her thumb was in her mouth as the sun started to rise from the main windows lighting up the small little girl on the upper balcony to the right of the toilet, sleeping in a puddle. Across the hall, murmers were heard. The light spilled out onto the puddle the extreme of which reached the bathroom light and caused it to sheen off the floor like when a small wet spot on a wet rainy road might glisten for a moment as the car lights hit it. The door handle moved, a woman tall and elegant smiled at the little innocent creature on the hallway floor, her thumb in her mouth, her hair disarrayed. “Sean! Sean! Quick, before she wakes,” she pointed an open gestured hand towards the child, that to them at that moment, looked like a baby girl, lost in the hall, having seemingly crawled looking for them, maybe…. But Sean frowned, the shorter of the two but with twice the shoulder and brawn whispered something up at her that made the woman’s smile of innocently watching a baby try to get somewhere, into a teary eyed darker remorse. She took a deep sigh. “You want to get her a bath, don’t you?” Sean asked the elegant woman. He walked over and pulled the little girl up off the cold floor and cuddled her. The way he cuddled her, it still could have been as if she was a baby, but his face wasn’t a happy let’s make the baby coo sort of look. It was serious, heavy, and his eyes shined at her. Her thumb was still in her mouth. Her eyes rapidly opened and fluttered at being held. His left hand was patting her soggy panties. He breathed his words as instruction, not as the kind of teaching her dad would have done, but more as if he knew something. “Pet? You were scared?” He patted her wet bottom again for emphasis and then looked over at her bedroom door and then back at her. “All children get scared. Being scared doesn’t make you a baby, Cait. It doesn’t make you a baby to pee your pants on the way to the toilet either. You do know that, don’t you?” Cait looked up at him. “Next time you get scared like that… especially if you pee your pants, pet? Don’t lie in it. You didn’t like that, did you? It felt gross, right?” Cait looked into his shining eyes, trying to see what the trick was. She didn’t feel him shaking in the way dad gets when he’s trying to control his anger when he’s explaining something. She just smelled a heavy soft hay, soap, coffee scented Uncle that now had a hint of her scent on him as her wet panties were pressed against him as he adjusted her to hold her like a child, properly. He tucked her legs around his body as if giving her body permission to touch him even though she was soaked, and his hand on her still wet bottom… Cait knew he didn’t just forget. “I… I didn’t want to make a second mess,” Cait shivered as she looked up at him telling him the rule. “Baby, that thinking is stupid. What would you do? Lie there all morning if we had already been downstairs and hadn’t noticed and stay in the piss until we looked for you?” Cait looked down. “It wouldn’t spread the mess and make the house dirty if I did.” Sean shook his head. “It is making a second mess, though, little pet. A much worse mess when you do that. I’m not talking about a physical thing that can be cleaned up or replaced. I’m talking about something that can’t be fixed. You are putting yourself in a box where you can’t get help and if you can’t get help, your aunt and I won’t know how much of this is you being immature, you being too scared to go like you should, you having potty troubles because your body is hurt, or any other combinations of things that will just be a mess your Auntie and I couldn’t fix. You can’t hide these potty problems, sweetheart. You have to come to us. I know you’re ten, and you feel certain ways about it. No natural ten year old likes to admit that she pees her pants, pet. But we can’t help you if we don’t know what is going on. You have to try to trust us. You are stuck here for the next two months, and you can’t live in shame all that time, little one.” Cait listened to him as she breathed in the air around her. She felt his chest rising and fall as he talked. She felt the breath from his mouth hit her at times, not like the gross spitting daddy does when he’s mad, but like a gentle summer breeze helping a duck fly a little faster. “But I pee my pants, and I pee the bed, and I pee….” Cait was struggling to understand why it was okay to wet her pants. “Pet,” Sean whispered. “One problem at a time. Right now, you come and get us. We don’t care about the puddles or the floor or even the clothes and even the little wetness in your undies. We care about the child that is holding all that weight first. You’ll understand, hon. In time. For now, just come and get us—especially at night when it’s the scariest. You come in and you wake us, and you tell us baby wet her pants because she got scared and that will be the end of it, hon. No shame.” Cait looked up at him, after what felt like minutes to her. He was still holding her, patting her wet boy underpants that were put on her, but the wet boy underpants… they were not a trap for shame right now. They were a sensation of Uncle’s touch. They felt… right. Sean turned slowly towards the light from the bathroom, Cait now looking back at the bedroom where there was no trail. The ghost was right. No trail… they assumed she just peed her pants and it wasn’t dirtying everything. No trail is safe. Sean was different though. He told her to come and get him. That she doesn’t just stay there after she pees. She comes and finds help. He was nice. He was strong. But, daddy lies. Does Sean? Does Sean forget what he says like Daddy sometimes? He hasn’t been mad yet. He touched her and carried her twice when she peed. Is he really okay touching her pee? The bathroom door closed, Uncle Sean, Aunt-grandma Eiboline, and Cait all inside.

Chapter Six The Liar! Pre-pee still present, clammy, and in-flame-ited her itching but unscratchable inside panties place, clung at her as she sat as close to the edge of the chair as she could, Auntie Eiboline, though Cait still said (Eye-vo-line) when she thought it to her self, Auntie spoke to her like an equal… almost. She was sharing, not questioning, not demanding, not even making sure she was being a good child or not. “Have you ever been close to a cow before?” Eiboline asked. Cait shrugged. She couldn’t ever remember seeing one up close, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to. They have long horns that can kill things, don’t they? She didn’t ask that though. “You said you have other animals,” she looked up suddenly, realizing she was changing the topic on an adult. You don’t do that! What was she going to say? “We do,” Eiboline smiled. “We have chickens and we have a couple of horses. There’s a dog around here somewhere, but… well, we feed him.” Cait looked down. She didn’t get mad. The cows weren’t important to her, at least not just then. “Careful, stupid!” the ghost whispered. “You almost made her pull your skirt up to spank you. You want her to see your wet panties?” Cait shivered. She didn’t want that, and the air seemed to still just as the door was heard and the two men started to walk into the room. Daddy gently pushed Cait out of the safe seat. It was the one that was between two exits going outside, with access to the stairs going up, and the living room was right behind it. He looked at Cait or a moment, and Cait knew, Daddy wanted to sit there because… well, she could tell by the way that Auntie Eiboline’s mouth twitched and frowned at one side when daddy was even brought up, that there was no love there. He glanced at her chair for a moment and wiped his hand across the surface of the chair. The grandpa guy stood at the doorway for a moment while daddy checked the chair she just vacated. Aunt Eiboline’s eyes narrowed, and she had both of the sides of her mouth turn down for a moment. Daddy pointed me towards a chair closer to Eiboline, closer to where she could smell me. He wanted her to know that I was smelly like he said. But he didn’t say nothing. He sat in the chair. I guess the clammy panties didn’t get any wet on the chair. “I nearly clipped my head pitching the hay in,” Daddy said casually. I felt my face heat up. No one ever takes a child serious, and now Daddy said the Hay was cut and even already in the shed it was supposed to go. Cait looked down. Daddy was outside moments ago…. Still, the contradictory made Cait pull in at herself as she glanced over at Daddy’s shoes. “How bad?” Auntie Eiboline said to him in a cheery voice, a voice that to another adult, could have sounded a little… forced, but her mouth returned to a relaxed smile, and the shift was so subtle, Cait missed it entirely. “So what way is Maire?” She asked him about Mama. “She’s nearing her time. At least the morning sicknesses have passed.” “Just as the last one starts Kindergarten this fall?” Eiboline asked Daddy as Sean squeezed her shoulder on his way past, and then lifted a heavy pot out of the oven putting it on the counter for her. “Aye,” Daddy said though the way he said it, Cait knew it wasn’t the same way that Auntie Eiboline and Uncle Sean said it, nor even Mama. It was like he was mimicking the sound, maybe to fit in more with the people he was talking to?” “The real difficulty is in the feeding them, and there’s no appetite like a child’s,” Daddy told the couple as Sean scooted past him towards a cupboard where the plates were, and Cait saw Auntie Eiboline getting ready to lift lids and ladle things from pots and pans onto the plates that Uncle Sean passed around the table. “Believe me,” Daddy was still talking. “This one is no different. She’ll eat!” “Don’t we all eat, the same as we grow,” Auntie Eiboline decided to look away from the conflict. Her eyes settled down on Cait, The girl looked so quiet, small, and lost. She touched the child’s head briefly before going back to filling the plates. “Well, she’ll eat,” it was like Daddy dismissed what Auntie Eiboline said. “But you can work her. She’s strong.” “Now.” Uncle Sean shook his head slightly. “There’ll be no need for any of that.” “We gladly keep the child,” Eiboline’s frown deepened even more than it presented moments before, and her whisper seemed so deep, it was like she was talking to something far more complex than the people in the room. Chapter Seven The Wanderer! “She’s adventurous. You need to keep your good stuff put up out of her reach,” Daddy looked Eiboline in the eye. “And you best tell her to stay off your nice living room furniture.” “Why would we need to do that?” Sean asked scratching his head. Cait knew herself that when they came in, she was already on the edge of the chair, trying not to cause any trouble at all. Before Daddy could answer, though, Eiboline cut Daddy off. “She’s a child. She’s not going to hurt the sofa or the chair if she sits in it. I know what the letters say, Sean knows what the letters say, you’ve already told us about that stuff. Don’t bring it up at dinner.” “Eiboline,” Sean said in a calm but somewhat sad sounding voice. Cait didn’t understand what could make them sad about talking about her. They had letters. They knew who Cait was. Why did he sound so sad? It didn’t add up. All he had said, was Eiboline, and she stopped talking, but Daddy didn’t let it go. “Fine,” Daddy frowned back at her. “But I’m not paying for….” Sean and Eiboline looked at one another and then Sean sighed. “Dan, I’m sure there’s other things a little more pleasant to talk about at dinner.” Even as his lips were moving with the same words, Eiboline seemed to say it louder. “It’s not going to make what happens, happen or not happen by bringing it up when the child is trying to eat. Just… please.” Dan nodded. “I’m still not paying for anything that gets ruined. It’s not like suing me is going to make me. There are a lot of people that will get a piece of me if I have to file bankruptcy that will fight over and take everything before you even get a small piece of what that stuff in the living room is worth. I warned you.” She whispered down at her lap. “I pee my pants sometimes.” “Dan! That’s enough,” Eiboline shook. “Look at your daughter. Just look. Maybe you don’t see it, but she’s hurting and she’s crying inside.” “I see no tears, and I’ve told her how to stop this, but she doesn’t do what people tell her to do.” Eiboline turned her back to everyone in the room. She leaned on the counter. There was a whisper and her eyes seemed to nearly tilt towards the heavens. When she turned around, there was water in them. A whispered name on the still air that didn’t quite reach Cait was whispered. Was it Jesus? “Dan, no one is going to sue anyone if something happens. Sean looked out the window of his kitchen, to some distant place out there, where there was a closed in corral, no bull or cow in it, but just a cross. What we let Cait do here, is our responsibility. You warned us and that’s the end of it,” Sean said his voice calm and trying to bring a smoothness to the room. “I… I have to pee,” The little girl shifted on her feet, her hands reaching towards the front of her skirt even though she said it more as an excuse to leave the room than that she felt in-flame-ited. Not really knowing how the word should sound here, wanting an ending that meant now, the more seven or eight year old looking, rather than confidence ten year old who should be there, knew this word was more real than anything she knew how to say, and it was eating up her insides. Everyone’s eyes were on her. She said she had to pee, her Daddy was probably looking at her legs, the floor, or her butt thinking about checking her. The pre-pee pee was coming again. She felt hot and sweaty but that could have just been the hot car ride, too. She was going to pee though. She knew it. “Up the stairs,” Cait heard Eiboline answer a gentle sad shake in her voice. “Straight across.” her voice cracked. “You won’t miss it, but I can help....” “I can do it,” Cait whimpered as she saw daddy glancing towards her skirt. She wasn’t supposed to be a baby. She ran out of the room as fast as she could. The stairs up caused a little bit of pre-pee to escape every third or fourth step. Chapter Eight Miss Potty Pants! To the left, an open door led to a bedroom that was bright and had a white bed cover on it. To the right, the bedroom lights were off. The curtain must have been pulled shut. The door was open, but it was hard to see inside. Cait couldn’t look at those. She reached for the door handle of the door in front of her, the pre-pees had pushed on her too often and too hard. Pee slid down her legs and pooled at the floor around her. She looked out over the balcony, but no one was there looking up at her. They were still in the kitchen. She pushed at the door, pee still sliding down her legs. “If you so much as move one step,” the ghost returned. “You remember? You do. Think Cait. You’ll make the puddle go into a new room….” Cait closed her eyes a moment before moving, and a darkness pulls us into the recent past, maybe before Christmas. “Cait,” Dad had her standing there in front of the bathroom, a lake there and a trail of water from her bedding to the toilet door. “You know why you’re getting it?” The belt was in his hands. “I peed the bed again.” “No. When is the last time I swatted you for peeing the bed?” “Um… before last Christmas?” This meaning before the Christmas before the pooping accident. “You dirtied the bedding you were in, a large puddle at the bedroom door, pee down the hall and a puddle at the bathroom door, and had I not stopped you, probably another puddle in front of the toilet from pulling at your clothes that were already soaked. You are making too much work fore your big sisters and your mom! When you start peeing somewhere, you don’t move! I’ve already told you this three times.” The ghost let the darkness lift, and we see Cait, standing there now deliberately trying to just do it. She finished peeing her pants in front of the door, and she even forced the last two or three squirts into her panties before she pushed open the bathroom door and then she sat on the toilet pulling her skirt out of the way, but still in her wet panties. She inspected it. It was still dry. She could still at least go back and see daddy off, and he won’t know she messed up… at least he won’t know until he was gone. Cait pulled the skirt around to make sure the back was dry. She pulled off some toilet paper and tried to pat at her panties trying to take some of the moisture out of them. She flinched with the grossness as she pushed her panties against herself, trying to make them drain any loose fluid in there. And fluid went all over her hands. Tears well up as she thought. “Gross!” Finally, the skirt as protected as possible with the panties as dry as she could get them with toilet paper even stuffed in them to try to absorb more wetness when she sat down, hoping it would keep from getting to her skirt, she held her skirt out from her in back, and folded the sides towards the middle to hide in case there was any in the middle at all, and she side stepped into the room, and turned her back away from daddy as she tried to get in the chair without being seen, even angling the chair so he only saw the front. She sat on her butt this time, trying to ‘prove’ there was nothing to see. Daddy didn’t seem to notice anything. She sighed in relief as she saw potatoes, green beans, roast, and bread at her place and some milk poured out for her. Cait felt her hands and arms in-flame-ited with a tingle that burned from nerves. She knew that she had given both Auntie and Uncle a glimpse, but they hadn’t seemed to noticed yet. And now, she was safely hidden, the wet did feel like it spread a little though. She must have wet the chair. It was plastic. It wouldn’t be ruined. She could clean it, like she always did, when she wet a chair at home. But it meant her skirt got more wet in the back than she wanted. She’d have to be real careful when she stood up. Cait was given a second slab of beef, some more greens, and more milk. That was a treat. At home, they rarely had enough to make sure she was full. Dan was on his third slab, but it rested on his plate untouched. He sighed and sniffed at the air. He looked right at Cait. Cait shivered. Did he know? “Well,” he looked around the table searching for something. He had a stub in his hand, still long enough he could puff on it twice if he wanted, but he held the cigarette in a way that Cait knew he was decided where to wipe the burning end of it. Cait felt her butt was still way too wet to be seen. She would have to be really careful. She got pee on the chair. Wiping, pressing the water out, and putting toilet paper in her panties didn’t stop it wetting her through her skirt and on the chair. As soon as someone noticed… she was going to be in trouble. She made two messes. Once in the hall and once in the chair. That’s a spanking offense. The shameful in-flame-ited stuff made it itch more as the adults talked around what was going on inside. Legs needed to be pressed. Daddy doesn’t look on purpose, not when there’s nothing to see, but if he just caught a hint, it would need to be explained. Thankfully the closest person to see the back of her sat at one end of the table, and though the chair angled at her daddy, her butt wasn’t really fully on display to the other adult at the other end, and anyway the high backs of the chairs would hide a direct view of her butt. I’m sitting sitting, eating my food. Don’t look at the child. I don’t need you right now. You adults talk. I’m okay. I am just eating, see? I lift my fork, I eat. I drink my milk. It’s all normal. I feel the itching inside. It’s really bugging me, but I can’t touch. It’s gross, but it really itches. I wish we were at home in the dark kitchen with the kids’ table separate from the big people table. I could scratch and pull my panties from sticking where it itches the worst, here, I’d be seen. Don’t itch, don’t scratch, don’t…. I tried to keep my hands stuffing food into my face even though I already had potatoes in there. Daddy wasn’t exactly focused on her at the moment. His gaze shifted from Sean to the edge of the table. The sky outside was starting to shift. The light was starting to dim, not in anyway that anyone would call it night, but certainly, daddy noticed it. Pee driblets touched my thigh. I could feel it. The panties were nowhere as dry as I had hoped I had squeezed them out. I could smell it. It wasn’t just sweat. I was smelly. Was Sean far enough away not to smell me? He was the closest. More important, if he didn’t say nothing, was daddy far enough away? I’d shame him if he knew. Chapter Nine Abandoned! Daddy looked at the butter dish in the middle of the table. He glanced up at Auntie, but he sighed and looked sideways at Uncle. “Got a three hour trek back, you know.” His wrist bounced up and down on the table, his cigarette butt just inches from the plate. Smaller grey flecks of ash dotted his dish. “You could stay the night,” Sean said quietly. “No, I can’t do that. Maire needs me at home and besides, I need to spray the spuds yet when I get home.” I chewed on the meat, watching Daddy’s nervous wrist and his eyes glancing here and there. He seemed to look at the drink in front of him, but he shifted again. “What news should I bring back to Maire?” I think he was stalling. I felt sweat on my back and my neck. He was going to stay until he found out I made two messes. He was going to tell Auntie on me, and she’d be mad. I frowned at Daddy. I didn’t notice it before, but I think I caught him in another..., well, yeah, I did. He can’t spray the ‘spuds’ because the hay isn’t in. Besides, I know that he usually LETS Grainne, my fourteen year old sister be in charge and my other big sister, Clodagh do it. They said it was fun last year. So he’s making excuses to leave. So… what is he trying to stall for? He must want to catch me peeing my pants so he can point it out and show them he’s not lying, but I told them. Didn’t they hear me? I smell really bad. There’s no fan I can see. I hope that Sean is far enough away. I make my jaws cha-cha on the meat in my mouth, trying not to let them see anything. I’m such a baby! The hiss I first heard, so faint, so light and quick, I instinctively felt my thighs grip the wet fabric of my panties and squeeze more water through it into the soaked toilet paper and I think it leaked again into my skirt. I tried to clench, but I didn’t even have to go. Then, there was a light gray almost white expelled curly wisp from the burning end’s last gasp. The cigarette was out. Dad stood up. I looked around the table and everyone else was standing. I stay seated a moment longer, wondering how I was going to get to say goodbye without him knowing I was a baby again when I should be a big kid. I waited for a clue. Eiboline placed a soft hand on Cait’s shoulder. “Are you okay, Cait?” her voice was still a lot quieter than before, it had been since she looked like that at the counter earlier, saying something that might have been a name, but the little girl struggling with her own worries couldn’t hear the name then, nor even noticed the woman getting close to her until she touched her. Instinctively, she tried to angle her body away. “Well…,” I’ll be going,” Dan walked towards the front door. Sean followed right after. Eiboline stayed with the girl, Cait accidentally-on-purpose pulling a napkin from the table down into her chair as she got up. She walked with her legs close together, and the back of her skirt pulled behind her so even with her limiting her walking space, she wasn’t sure that the wetness was covered, but she had to try. Eiboline just touched her head. “You’re okay, Cait,” She said like Mrs. Evans might have. Mrs. Evans was nice, and she never hurt Cait’s feelings… usually, but she didn’t understand things, etiher. “I’ve seen it first hand, Mr. Weimer,” Mrs. Evans talked to her dad that day in December at the conference. “Your daughter is lacking in confidence. She asks for the toilet to avoid doing things that scare her, and she’s having a very hard time reading. You need to read to her and to encourage her to read at home!” “Lady, we have five kids at home. She knows she has two elder sisters, her mom, and she’s just lazy. She’s not going to do it, not because we don’t want her to, but because she just doesn’t want to.” Mrs. Evans sighed shaking her head that night. But she didn’t know. The bathroom baby stuff wasn’t because Cait was lazy or she was trying to fail. She sighed as she looked up at Eiboline knowing that there was no way to excuse or explain that she was a baby but didn’t want it. As Auntie Eiboline and I got out the front door, I saw Daddy was already in the car, and Sean was telling him I was right behind him, and he was saying “She’s fine. I need to go. I’m not going to linger because she’s being lazy. I ran after the car forgetting to hold my skirt in back. I chased the car, but Daddy didn’t see me. He didn’t look up, and the car turned out of view—for I don’t know how long. The car was gone, but I could still feel the warmth of its engine on the road. I could still smell the stale air caused by the tobacco, and I could still believe for a moment, that he’d come back, until he didn’t. “Come, Cait,” Eiboline squatted down easing a hand on her mid back and a hand in her left. “He’s gone. It’s over. It’s time to start something new, pet.” She looked up at the tall lady that was now nearly on her butt next to her, but not quite. Let’s see if we can get you cleaned up. Then, she thought about the kitchen. There was no bag in there. She looked back to Sean who was just staring as Eiboline. “Sean? I think Cait’s bag was in the car, and she’s just had an accident.” “Well. How about you take her and get her a bath? She needed one anyway even if she didn’t pee herself. She’s been sitting in filth since she got here, not your fault, pet, but someone didn’t even give you a bath this morning, did they?” Cait shrugged. Sean walked over and he lifted Cait up, even though he knew she was soaked. He even patted her wet backside, and he whispered in her ear. “You come and get us from now on if you’re wet, pet. You don’t sit there in shame and a soaking wet skirt anymore, little one. It’s not good for you emotionally, nor is it good for your skin.” “Um… are we going up to the bathroom” Cait asked her body tensing against his, right down her hands making tight fists and her toes curdling as though they were trying to do the same. “What’s wrong with the bathroom, pet?” Sean whispered to her. “I was bad. I didn’t get in there. It… the floor… outside the toilet… um….” Sean patted her wet backside again and kissing the side of her face as he whispered he had no malice or anger as he let her know. “Hon, if your skirt is all wet, then the pee came out somewhere, and I could see there was no puddle on the ground where you were sitting so I actually wondered if you peed at the table or not, but there wasn’t really enough pee that it got the floor. Now it makes sense, and Cait?” “Yeah?” “If your pants are soaked, you had to have made a puddle somewhere, sweetheart. Now it makes sense. Next time, just let us know so we can clean it up as soon as we can… unless you already wiped it?” “I… I didn’t,” Cait’s face went red and she was shaking now. “Well, of course you didn’t. I bet know has really shown you how to clean up after yourself, have they?” Cait felt a tear fall down her face. “I’m too stupid to learn.” “Now,” Sean was carrying her into the door already. “None of that, little one. You’re not stupid. No has taught you. That’s not your fault, little lass.” Cait buried her face into his shoulder as he carried her up the stairs and Eiboline lead the way. “She’ll need to wear something, Sean.” “Now. You just get her into the bath Eiboline. Let me worry about finding her something. She needs someone to bathe her, and she’s probably too big for her uncle to do it for her, so I’ll just get some clothes from the room.” “From there?” Eiboline’s eyes went wide, and her pupils danced there for a moment. “She’s a bit small to wear anything out of your closet, isn’t she?” He asked Eiboline reasonably. “No. You’re right. It’s just….” “It’s been twelve years, Eiboline. I know. It’s never going to go away, but those clothes… they don’t do anything for him right now, and we have a child right here, soaking wet and scared. It’ll be okay. She can wear them. It won’t hurt.” Eiboline nodded. “It wouldn’t hurt, would it?” Sean put Cait down just outside the bathroom, but was careful not to stand her in the puddle. He looked at the puddle and then at the little girl, and he chuckled. “You carry a lot of water inside, don’t you sweetie?” Cait looked down blushing. Sean cupped her head in her hand and lifted her face to meet his eyes. “Hey. Children get nervous in new places and pee their pants all the time. You tried, remember? You asked to go pee. You just didn’t make it, little lass. There’s no shame in just not making it—especially because you did ask to go.” Cait reached back to him and hugged him. “Okay.” Eiboline lifted under her shoulders and stepping over the puddle swung her over the puddle and into the bathroom before putting her back on her feet. “Take off your clothes, sweetheart. It’s okay. We said we’ll gladly keep you and we meant it, pet. Just don’t be scared. We’ll clean you up, and then I’ll show you how to clean up the floor, and it will be like it didn’t happen.”

Chapter Five The Tall Grandma-Aunt “There she is. Cait, isn’t it?” her smile was genuine. It wasn’t stretched like she was pretending for a child. It wasn’t forced. It was just there, as if it belonged. “Come on out so I can get a look at you?” Cait looked up at her, down at her dirty skirt and her stained and dingy top. She felt too dirty to be next to this tall very pretty woman with the moving of a queen. But she didn’t want to be rude. She glanced down at the floor by her feet, far enough in and away, she wondered if maybe the woman didn’t see the floor. Maybe she doesn’t see the orange and yellow stains from the two times her writing paper had been ruined by her own stupidity. She looked back up at her. The lady was bent down now, her arms held out for her, like big people often do with kids that are expected to make their way over. Before she started to scoot towards her, she lifted her butt, and looked under it for a wet patch. It didn’t look lighter or darker than the seat. It felt safe. Making sure her skirt back stayed under her… in case any pee stains were visible either on it or her panties, she lifted up and moved and then sat and then did it again. She clutched the crayon box in her hand, and stared up at her as she got to her feet. As she looked down at her dingy brown strapped sandals, her dirty feet that showed through the sandal straps, and her eyes glanced back in the car where she was, afraid all of these things would tell Auntie how bad the trip was for her. There were animal smells out there that made her wrinkle her nose. Did she smell like them? Cait felt like the woman was really looking at her. It was hard to explain. It wasn’t like a test or like she was looking for a mistake. She didn’t tell her to turn so she could check her butt like Daddy did if he thought Cait made another potty mistake. She wasn’t asking her if she had something to say that… in that way… in the Daddy tense way. She was just looking at her for a long moment. “Cait,” she remembered back in February or March when the school had a Science fair, and he and mama took her and her sisters to the Middle school that night. Her Sister, Grainne, the sister that often cleaned her up, made something for it, so they all had to go see it since there was no one to watch the little kids at home. Cait had just gotten out of the car, and Dad wheeled her around without a word, the cigarette bouncing on his lip, and he lifted her skirt right there, and felt her panties. She was dry. But everyone in the parking lot saw the big fourth grader being checked for poop in her panties! That had left a larger (in-flame-ited burning flush, that hurt her eyes,) on her face than anything her body had done until then. “You can let me check out here where no one is paying attention, or we can do it closer to the light. I don’t care,” Daddy bent her over and checked at that time. Cait peeked up through the top of her head at the lady to see if she was frowning, but she still had a smile. The woman seems to be measuring something about her, she didn’t wheel her around and lift her skirt to look for a mess in her panties. Cait tensed her legs and squeezed her legs together hoping she wasn’t going to. She didn’t stare at her crotch trying to decide if a shadow or a darkened spot was pee or not. Cait put her hands in front of her, hoping to cover any deep shadows that peeing might have made on her dress from peeing in her sleep. Eiboline’s gaze did go from her from foot to head, but her eyes rested on Cait’s eyes, not her stained clothes or her crotch where even if the woman didn’t see it, Cait knew that her panties were cooling and clammy from a little pre-pee pee that wanted to start—again, for a third time. She was too scared to tell her she had to go yet, though. The wetness of the earlier little drizzle that stopped before it became a real pee pee pulled at her insides like she knew she was going to get caught even if it was only real pee pee, if it showed and everyone saw the wet…. Especially if it was a puddle on the floor…. Cait knew that was…. Her thoughts were interrupted. “You’ve grown,” the woman whispered. Cait’s feet shuffled on the ground, her left kicking at the ground. She’d grown from last time the woman saw her, a woman she doesn’t remember, a woman that was about to realize she peed her pants in the car, maybe know it happened twice. “The last time I saw you, you were about this big,” and she bent down showing her hand to about half the girl’s height. “Your mama had you in a pram.” Cait looked up and something about the way she was talking to her was different. She wasn’t telling Cait to do something. She wasn’t trying to make her tell her something like she was bad—or something. She was… almost talking to the young girl like… like the lady herself was a kid or… something. Cait shook and looked at the ground, afraid that in some way, she might be breaking the rules. Maybe she made the lady talk to her like this? Grownups are hard to get. “The pram is broken,” Cait whispered. “Oh? Whatever happened to it?” Cait saw the lady stand up and as she did so, she moved her hands towards Cait, but both of her hands cupped her face for a moment, and then moved her hair back around her ears, as if she was trying to see her blue eyes or her freckles. “Last year, my big sisters had to move some big rocks for dad in the field. They used it as a wheel-thingy like you use to move dirt and stuff, and it got stuck and two wheels broke off and then the pushing handle part bent.” The kind woman, with all of her grandma wrinkles in her face, smiled at Cait and nodded. “Well, how about we come inside for some lemonade, pet?” “Pet?” Cait looked up at her frowning. The lady smiled and reached for her back, but Cait stepped back from her and ducked. She didn’t want the pretty, glide-y, almost float-angel woman getting too close. What if Cait smells bad, or Cait might not be clean enough for the woman’s hands to touch? “It’s okay,” the woman walked towards the door in front of Cait and then she opened it. “I’m Sure they told you my name,” she whispered. “But just to make sure, I am Eiboline, your mom’s cousin.” Cait cautiously looked up at her holding the door open. “Cait,” she looked down after telling her name. “Yeah. Daddy says to call you Auntie or Aunt Evie. He says I’m too dumb to get your name right because we practiced, but I can’t say it right.” Eiboline smiled and squatted down to Cait’s height. “Well, a lot of American girls have trouble with Gaelic names. It’s not just you. You grew up over here, but your Mam and I, we grew up in Ireland. Your name is Gaelic, too, you know?” “I wondered about that,” Cait put her finger on her chin. The lady smelled like something with flowers and something like a lemon-thingy. It was a nice smell. It wasn’t Mama’s flower smell, but it was nice. “My classmates always say it since Kindergarten—that I spell my name wrong, and then when they hear my name said, they said ‘meow.’” “Children are imaginative, but no, Cait, your name isn’t Cat, either. The sound is different. When they say meow at you, remind them that they forgot the ‘it’ sound hidden with it. It’s Cah-it, not cat, pet.” Cait looked down. “I don’t think anyone would wait for me. It’s just a name and if they like you, you talk, and if they don’t, they walk away and find someone else.” Cait shrugged like she was saying it didn’t matter. But it did. She knew she was dumb, but she did spell her name right. “I guess I forgot what school was like,” Auntie Eiboline sighed. Cait looked up into her eyes for a moment. She had something shiny at the moment in her eye, and she looked towards the house door. Cait didn’t know why she seemed to have such shiny eyes, but grownups were strange sometimes. “Of course, school might be a little different too, from the old country and this world. Still. Let’s get you that lemonade. American born girls do like lemonade, right?” The young girl nodded and walked in ahead of the aged cousin, definitely understanding why Daddy told her to call her Auntie, out of (be-spect). If Cait had just met her with no telling her what to say, she might call her grandmother. They walked right into an Entrance that had stairs going up to a balcony and then right through to the kitchen and a doorway into the living room from the kitchen. The back door was immediately across from the front door, though the space it took to cross it was definitely a few steps from entering the large hall, past the steps, and through the kitchen. “You have a farm?” Cait looked up at the woman whose hair glowed in the bright kitchen. “I didn’t see any wheat or corn or nothing on the way.” She didn’t say it smelled like something like… she didn’t know a word for it. Two large windows cascaded light into the space in a way that her own home back in Missouri did not. “Yes, we do,” Auntie Evie, wait! That name isn’t her at all. It’s not queen-like like her. Even if her name is hard, Cait decided she’d try to get used to the name of Eiboline. She whispered. Eye-boll-ine? No, that’s not right...” She was nice about Cait’s name, explaining that it didn’t even sound like the animal. The nice Auntie or cousin went on. “Sean, my husband, has been running a Dairy farm from since before I met him. He inherited it from his family.” “Day-lee farm?” Cait looked up at her. As she took in the new word before she tried Auntie’s name again. Aye-ba-ine? That sounds closer. “That’s right. That’s why you don’t see much in the way of grown things. We do grow a few things, actually, but most of the field is for animals. We have mostly cows of course because it is a dairy farm.” The window to the left of the preparation area with the stove and sink really threw the sunlight in the room like it belonged there, and when it glowed on Auntie Eiboline, the lady looked even more queen-like, almost like a fairy queen. In contrast, the nearly windowless kitchen in Cait’s own home never made her mom look good at all. The kitchen at home was dingy. The kitchen table was always cluttered. There were stains on the floor from Cait being Cait, and it smelled almost as much like a bathroom in use as a bathroom; and that was Cait’s fault. “Why don’t you sit, pet?” Eiboline’s voice whispered naturally, as though it had always been soft and easy on the ears. “Don’t you even think about it—fully sitting in that chair?” a dark voice whispered in her ear. “Do you want your aunt to think you want to pee in her chairs like you do at home? Remember, sitting just far enough on the edge that makes you look like you are doing what they tell you gives the pee a better chance of reaching the floor instead of the seat—if it happens again.” “I know,” Cait whispered at her little ghost. “Stop. I know, okay?” Cait sat, carefully, on the edge of the chair, anxious and adjusting herself for the failure she knew would come—probably before Daddy left. She watched as the kind beautiful grace-walking queen poured something from a small jug into a glass—filling it maybe just enough to cover the bottom. The teacher would called it a fraction, but Cait shook her head at the idea of math. She just knew it was less than half, maybe less than a one on a three or maybe even less than a one over four. Or… was that a one over a four is bigger than a one on three? Four is bigger than three. No, if the number on the bottom is bigger and the top number is the same, then it’s small? No, that doesn’t make sense. Cait shrugged. It was a small amount. Then, the grandmother-Auntie-cousin person filled it with water. She held the glass for a moment as she continued to talk to her. “So, how is your mammy doing?” Auntie Eiboline spoke kind of funny, but Cait liked it. It was refreshing, and it sounded more… smart… than other people. “She was sick before. She threw up every day. But now, she’s feeling better. She’s more fat though than I think in the Spring. I know it’s because she has someone inside her, but how do you get a full-sized baby out of a someone who doesn’t even have an extra hole that big on their body?” Cait asked. Auntie smiled and started to hand her the glass of drink after mixing it a moment with a metal spoon. “I looked at my own body. The pee-pee place is barely big enough for peeing to come out, and it seems gross to have a human baby pushing out when you’re pooping. How would that work? You poop your pants, and you get a baby?” Cait was still in mid-thought while she took the glass of juice. Eiboline shook her head and smiled. “Cait,” her smile brightened for a moment. “Youth can be so innocent.” Auntie’s eyes seemed to watch Cait for a moment before she went on. “It’s a little bit hard to explain, and I’m not sure it’s my place to explain it.” Cait frowned. It meets again. Even people who don’t know her, know she’s stupid. Mommy and Daddy will tell them so the little lady doesn’t cause them trouble. “I will tell you, though, that your baby brother or sister will not be pooped out, especially not into your Mama’s pants. Panties couldn’t hold a baby.” “Yeah,” Cait agreed. “It would be really cramped for a baby to be stuck in your panties when it gets borned.” Cait’s finger went into her mouth. She looked seriously at Auntie. “Mommy won a prize, back in December at a school contest!” “She did?” Eiboline saw Cait take a small sip of the lemonade. “Yeah. She made the best pie.” Cait licked her lips. That was really good stuff! How she make it? Cait continued her story, though. “She won twelve jars of strawberry jam, and she won some money, so we all got ice cream to go with the pie that she made for us at home.” “What did your dad think?” “He didn’t like it. He said that the jam they gave us—and even the money mom got—barely paid for the stuff he had to buy. It wasted money, I think.” Eiboline frowned a little, a word on her lips that she seemed to swallow instead. “And your farm is doing all right?” Eiboline asked. “I guess. But we didn’t cut the hay yet.” “You’re late.” Cait shrugged. She didn’t cut the hay so she didn’t care what Daddy was late with. She had food, and clothes, and a house, so if he was late with something, then he had his reasons. I had chapter 5 posted, but it seemed to have been duplicated in the process, so I deleted and reposted it hoping to cut out the duplication.

It's been a while. Most of you will recognize the start of this, but I've been working on its clean up. It's not as bold in your face violent as it was last time I wrote it, but the violence is still quite there. I have remapped how it starts again and this time, I've already got 50 chapters in, so it's not going away soon. as long as I can check in once every weekend. But yes, this one has been started over a few times... trying to get the feel of it. I've found the few things missing and most importantly, I've found Kookaberry and the ghost which will start to explain one significant way this story is different, but rather than bore you with the details.... Chapter One The Unseen and the Way Unintelligible chatter filled a dark space with little pin lights on the black field. The sounds were muffled, but they seem to be getting louder. A familiar heavy dampness seemed to crawl all over the skin of the person seeing nothing. Clamminess, stickiness, warm wet told her that she wasn't safe. There was a scent, a powerful and shameful scent. Please… Not now. Not again. But she felt it. It wasn’t just under her butt. It wasn’t just against her crotch of her panties. It was all over her legs, her stomach, and her back. The chatter was still muffled and weird. It was definitely Roisin and Aoibhe, her sisters, that had beds against the two walls that she lay in the middle of on a white mat. She was a little kid--no, she was worse. She didn't get a bed because she would ruin it. The girl with her eyes still closed, seeing little pins of white on a dark field, was the one that had to be on her squishy white… was it her mat? She was wet. Her arms and face were wet. Gross. No, she didn’t pee on her face, did she? How? Cait tried to lift her left eye, but it seemed to pull the bottom of the eyelid with it, not giving in. She squirmed on the strange feeling mat. This wasn’t her mat. It was different. It was too firm, and it felt less floory. It was still sticky. It was still smelly. It was still clammy. “Uh!” Cait whispered in her dark state of being not understanding. “Come on, eyes. Open. She tried to turn. Something small but thick enough to make impact thudded on a carpeted floor. “Mom!” she tried to yell, but her voice felt like she was ripping it raw though to her dismay, it still sounded too quiet to be a shout even, let alone the scream she wanted to send through the house. “Help me!” but it came back just as quiet and just as useless. No one was responding. When Daddy sees this, the little ten year old was really going to get it. Aoibhe, five years old, doesn’t even wet the bed anymore, and Roisin doesn’t wet her pants in the daytime, but Aoibhe does. Still, Cait is ten, not five like Aoibhe and not seven like Roisin. And this was… it had to be all over the floor to be this bad! How would she explain to daddy that she didn't know? Cait’s eyes fluttered open. She felt a bump and her butt lift a little before landing on the dry hardened leather of the blue car seat. She was seeing the land flowing by her out the side window. She felt her arms, and they were sticky. They were clammy. They were sweaty. It wasn’t pee. Her face was hot. It was sticky. It wasn’t pee. She sighed. "Good" was so soft no one heard her lips move in the shape of the word. The noises she had heard now, were clear. They were coming from the front, from a radio as an announcer was talking about a horse race. The scruffy man puffing that annoying slender thing that kids are not allowed, was her daddy. The car was really hot. Two windows were partly down. There were only two doors to daddy’s 1970 big sled that he called "Ford." Cait wasn’t one who could tell her daddy he can’t name his car if he wants to. But why is "Ford" so good a name for a car? If you are going to name a car, why this one? It was beat up and dirty. "Cait" seems like a better name for it. That's a truth that Cait knew from the moment she could make sense of people. She was the dirty one, just like this car. “How much farther?” Cait asked her dad as he puffed on a long slender white thing in his mouth until the end glowed red. “Maybe an hour,” her daddy’s lips seemed to bounce the cigarette on his lips. “You can just go back to sleep if you want.” Cait sighed heavily and pulled herself into a sitting position, her hand drifting against the car seat as she did, just making sure. The seat was sticky and it felt like it was warm, but it wasn’t wet enough to be pee. She nearly always had to pee though, when she woke and right now, it seemed to be even more true, this very minute. But she was just asleep, wasn’t she? She was at recess. If she was going to pee, she should have done it before she woke up. That’s the rule. You pee during recess, not when you have to hold it. It was one of her failures that she couldn’t read a clock, and she couldn’t tell when so many minutes passed. She just had to try to judge by the space of moments in her head, and she definitely knew that enough time had not passed. The sun was still in the same place making her legs hot. The crayons that were on the seat next to her were still in the same place she saw them when she woke up. Her daddy’s cigarette was still too long. No time had passed at all. The horse race was still being announced. Dad seemed to be listening intently. He was saying things like “...(bad word) yeah! I knew it! Yeah!” A coupon was taped to the steering wheel of the car. It was a pink and white thing, and it had writing that even if Cait was close enough, she couldn’t read. But from where she was in the back, all she knew, was it was one of daddy’s gamble tickets. Mom was going to be mad. Going into chapter two, I shall explain... yes, there are parts where it goes to first person. If the story seems to get a little confused when it does, let me know, and I'll talk through it, how it was that first person was more right for that scene than the closely followed third, though the idea is still that it is from Cait's Limited perception and knowledge as a 10 year old going on 11 year old. Chapter Two The Shell Cait felt her legs pressing as much as they could. Daddy’s long thin puffy smoke paper was slowly shrinking. The announcements on the radio were replaced by some country and Western. The crayons were in my hands. Mrs. Evans gave them to me, last May, just before Mother’s Day. The box had my name on it. Each crayon had my name on it. I was so happy to have it. The box was in my hand. “Daddy? How much longer?” I whispered up trying to be quiet about it so he could ignore me. If someone else asked, like Aoibhe, daddy would tell her that it was maybe as long as a Cinderella movie and that would shut her up for a while, and daddy wouldn’t be mad. He didn’t tell me like that though, and most of the time, he’d just tell me to learn how to read a clock. Still, I had to know. My knees were really pressing into each other. The in-flame-iting in my stomach didn’t like what was there. I remember, once in February, when my older sister had to see a doctor. The doctor said she had in-flame-ited in her body, too, and she didn’t have any burns. It felt the same to me, that my insides kind of burned, but in an I’m going to pee sort of way? I needed to know if I could ask yet. “Cait,” Daddy sighed. “I told you to go back to sleep.” Daddy’s answer meets… Cait! You are bothering me. If you go to sleep, you won’t bother anyone. You are being… loud. You should already be reading the clock for yourself and I already told you. That’s what he meant, and Cait knew it! The recess rule was made way back almost a year ago. Mrs. Evans told us that we were big kids, and big kids learn to manage stuff. They learn how to tell time so they can know if they should do something like eat and if they are bothering the lesson time. That’s what she remembered. The clock on the car dash seemed to blur and the car faded into an abyss. There was a classroom, with twenty-four students in it. One bright-eyed redheaded girl with blue eyes and light freckles sat in her desk maybe a few days after fourth grade had begun. The teacher smile around at the whole class. “I understand that some of you are still learning how to talk and how to behave in public,” Mrs. Evans smiled at not even me, but three boys who were a little loud in class at times. “...And that’s okay, but it is also my job to teach you social science. So let’s see what it means….” Cait started to get lost with some of the words she used here. But she followed along the best she could until she realized that the teacher was saying that Public life and Private life are different. Even if they are, even in private life, families have rules. And you have to learn how to be good in public and in family, if you want people to like you. “It’s not polite to waste people’s time,” Mrs. Evans had once told the class in September. “When you make the class laugh and you ask questions that you know the answer to, and you don’t let the teacher teach, you waste time. When you leave the class so the teacher has to explain things again, you waste time. When you come in late, and you try to leave early. It makes other people hate you.” Cait had really taken Mrs. Evans seriously even in September, not because she knew her, but because Mrs. Evans shushed other kids when they knew her and a new kid didn’t and Mrs. Evans didn’t let the ones that knew her tell the new kids about her. She loved Mrs. Evans for not allowing kids to talk during lessons unless it was about the thing they studied. Cait sat there trying to understand a round thing in the driver’s displays, a thing that she saw on the kitchen wall, and something that the school classroom had. It was a round coin like disc with two moving black arrow lines around a face with numbers. Could she count… especially to twelve? Of course she could. If time were just a matter of saying 2 for the little hand on a two and 11 for the big hand on the 11, telling time would be so easy. 11 after 2. But that’s not the way clocks work. Somehow, the hands have hidden meanings. The short one, you just say the number, but the big one, it did something to those numbers, it wasn’t like just multiplying by five. Someone had suggested that, but sometimes the eleven space was read fifty-five, sometimes fifty-three and sometimes fifty-seven. It never made sense to Cait. Her legs pushed harder. Her stomach was hurting… in-flame-ited again. She felt her vision inside the round face dragging her back into September again. The class had just come in from recess. Cait was sweaty. Everyone had been chasing everyone else around, and she had had so much fun… but…. Children pushed, shoved, and avoided other bodies to get back into the classroom. Reading was right after Recess. Even the day before and a few times, little dribbles of “almost” pee pees wet my panties sometimes, but never enough that anyone at school called mommy or caused daddy to miss work so he could be mad. I think he knew, though, that there were “almost” pee pees sometimes. He takes mama to the laundry, so he’s seen my stains…. I just felt it let out some warmth sometimes in my seat, but when I stood up, no one could see. I’d done it last year. It was normal Cait stuff to me. I figured everyone had done that a little, sometimes, until I was made fun of for starting to wet again in April. On this day, though, I had to stand up and read. The clock’s big hand had definitely moved some, but it was hard to tell where it was, and I didn’t remember where it moved from, so even if I knew how it worked, I couldn’t tell if it was forty if I didn’t know where the longer stupid stick started, could I? We had read quietly for a bit in our seats, then the teacher talked to us about a new story we were reading as a class, and then, finally, we were taking turns… popcorn style. “Popcorn!” Randy said after the end of a line. Giggling, he said my name, but when he said it, he added. “Cait, meow!” “Very funny!” I whispered and everyone laughed… well, everyone but Mrs. Evans. “Randy!” her face had that look. You know the one. It’s the face where you know she’s not sending you to the principal, and you know…. If she doesn’t send you to the principal for that, then, you are really going to get it directly from her! He was in trouble. I hate reading. I looked down at the book and I missed where we were. “I lost my place,” I whispered. “October…,” Mrs. Evans prompted. “Um… Popcorn! Ralph,” I felt my legs suddenly react before I felt anything. They tightened down to my toes under my chair, my knees pushing together. I looked at Mrs. Evans. “That’s not how it works, Cait, and you know it. Now, look down on page 87, the third line right after the period!” I frowned. “Oc-tawb-er is tah ten-ith moth off tah yee-ah-r.” I was really trying. Reading. I don’t like it. I hate it. Cait put her finger on words, pushed her memory to find some hint about the reading of the longer ones. The ones that she was corrected on more than twice, she started to see patterns. She didn’t have to read October. If it had an O that was big. If it had an r at the end and it was too long to read, October was a safe bet. She read October and it helped. While she read through the paragraph, feeling the eyes of the room on her, she also felt the fire in her pants. The one that lapped flames at her stomach, the in-flame-ited pushing at her. She looked up at the clock, but it’s face had no meaning to her. She didn’t know if she could ask. She drizzled a little bit. It stopped. She stopped reading. Maybe no one noticed. Lunch time was when the big hand touched the five. Cait knew that. If she could just wait for the big hand to hit the twelve, maybe that would mean forty minutes. Maybe if she just waited until the twelve. The time would be 12-12, if Cait decided how time worked. It was 11-9 now. Just three more numbers with the big hand, and she would raise her hand. The teacher wasn’t exactly talking. They were doing worksheets. Cait’s right leg was bouncing up and down. Her legs were swinging in and out at each other. She was doing little hop in her seat, and she was sucking in her breath. Her face was red and sweaty. “Mrs. Evans!” Wanda called for the teacher. “Yes, Wanda?” But Wanda was too late. Wait! Why was Wanda getting Mrs. Evans? Does she know? Cait shivered and watched with wide eyes hoping she wasn’t failing at following another simple rule. “I need to use the toilet. It’s been forty minutes, hasn’t it?” “You’re right, Miss Wanda, you know where the pass is.” Cait muttered under her breath and looked down at her damp warm lap. “Stupid clock rules! That stupid long arrow is on the 10, not the stupid twelve!” She told some laughing ghost in her imagination. “You know the rule,” said ghost echoed back at her. “One girl and one boy out of the room at a time! Or… the ghost seemed to taunt her. You can be a baby and cry about it while everyone watches you pee your pretty little skirt!” “No!” I whispered hoarsely and harshly at the taunting little devil in me. “I’m a big girl!” Cait felt a little more warmth in her seat, a pushing little drizzle of fire through her body and warming in shame, her butt. She hoped it wasn’t as bad as it looked. The clock’s hands ticked slowly. Wanda left on the ten. She better come back before the twelve. “You’re wet,” the ghost echoed in Cait’s head. “If you get up, everyone is going to see a big wet spot on your skirt. They’ll know!” Cait frowned. It felt really heavy and wet back there. Maybe the ghost was right. Maybe she shouldn’t go. Maybe she should wait until lunch. At lunch, no one will care if she’s wet. They will be too excited to eat than to noticed if she does have a wet spot, then she could say she sat in something. “Am I really wet?” Cait’s lips mouthed at the ghost in her head. “Do you want to try to feel your butt while everyone is around you?” Cait sighed. That would be a big give the cat out of the bag. She couldn’t do that. She felt some more warmth push into her panties. She sighed and she sat there…. The clock faded into the background again and Cait’s glassy eyes looked down at her lap. Somehow, though she felt a little drizzle wet her panties a little, the feeling to pee disappeared. She felt around the seat, but the daydream had not left her in a puddle. She was okay… now, for a minute. If it worked out, maybe until they got where they were going…. Yes, I do realize that there are a lot of mispellings and a lot of (Cait-words) not words as we know them. If you sound them out and think like you are an undereducated ten year old, you should be able to work out the words... I think... and if not, you can ask. I am more than happy to explain up to where we are here. Chapter Three: In-flame-ited Cait sighed as she looked at the crayons in her hand now that the crisis was over. Mrs. Evans was someone she’d really miss. Her first grade teacher… she didn’t really remember her. Her second grade teacher… he sent her to the nurse all the time. She hated that. Her third grade teacher… got mad at her for not doing the reading homework. Mrs. Evans? She started to let Cait stay in the classroom from time to time during lunch, she didn’t just give her a place to hide out until lunch was over, but she often worked with her helping her with math and Reading… mostly Reading. It was the last day of school in December before Christmas break. Cait was struggling to read again, and this time, Mrs. Evans stopped by her desk before she took the kids to lunch. Cait’s panties were already wet again, but no one seemed to care or notice. She knew as long as she was careful not to wet fully all at once, and she didn’t look like she had to pee, no one really knew she was doing it. “Cait, hon?” The teacher squatted by the chair and looked into the shivering little girl’s eyes. “I’d like you to come in at recess and talk to me if you can.” “Am I in trouble?” Cait asked. “No, Cait. I’m actually just a little worried about you getting behind. I think we should check on your reading together.” “Okay.” But Cait was certain that what the teacher really was saying was that she was stupid, too stupid for fourth grade. It wasn’t something that would surprise her though. Cait could tell her reading was terrible compared to her classmates, and she knew she couldn’t do math to save her life. She should probably go all the way back to kindergarten maybe because she often got letters mixed up. She especially hated writing, in her case, printing the letters b, d, p, and q. Some of the other letters that sometimes gave her trouble, not the shape, but the sound, were v and f; w, r, and l; p and b; s and z; and the list seemed impossible as she thought about it. “I want you to try reading a card for me. It’s just a quick short story no more than five paragraphs with a few questions. Can you try that for me?” Cait’s shoulders rose to her ears. “I don’t read good.” “Well, that’s why we are doing this, Cait. I need to do some pretesting of your levels before I call your parents in for a conference just before the holidays.” “Why?” Cait looked up at Evans honestly wondering why she had to confirm that she was stupid. It’s not like she’d suddenly not be stupid or be able to read just because she had to take a pretest or because her parents were told. Her parents knew, didn’t they? “Well, if I can pin point some of your problems, maybe we can come up with a plan where you can get help both at home and at school,” Mrs. Evans whispered and put a hand on Cait’s shoulder. “You do know I want to help, don’t you?” Cait shrugged. Wanting to help didn’t fix anything just like wanting to go to the toilet at night didn’t fix wetting her pants on the way to the toilet or peeing in the bed. It was just something that was. Cait came in. She would do anything Mrs. Evans asked of her even if she didn’t believe in it. Mrs. Evans? She was safe. She followed rules that meant that Cait wasn’t usually in trouble at school. Even if Cait’s panties were often wet on the way home, her parents didn’t know it most days. Her panties were clammy and sticky even now, and she thought she smelled a little bit, but Mrs. Evans didn’t comment if she noticed. Something happened though, and it wasn’t Mrs. Evan’s fault and it wasn’t Cait’s. It was because of the rule. It was because if Cait asked the teacher to break the rule, then Cait would be admitting she wasn’t a fourth grader at all. The rule that you wait forty minutes no matter what after recess meant you were a fourth grader even if you were bad at it. The testing that Mrs. Evans seemed to do, was to have Cait read card after card with pictures that went with it, and the more she sat there and reading, the easier the reading got. Cait looked up at the teacher when she finished a card, finally, without even one hint from the teacher, though she did give her time to sound out or think about the words on it. “Good job,” Mrs. Evans had told Cait. The clock hands were moving during that time, and when Mrs. Evans had finished writing something down and was putting the cards away, she told Cait that she could go take a quick break, but as Cait went down the hall towards the bathrooms, she noticed out the window that the fourth graders were lining up. “If you get us called in to the school again because of playing out on the playground,” Dad had said back in November when the school told him that she had not come in with the class, “you will wish you hadn’t even gone out to recess. I can’t afford to take time off work like that!” Cait sighed. The door outside was down the other way from the bathrooms. She wasn’t even sure she had time to get back outside let alone use the toilets and do that. If she used the toilets and the teacher brought the class in before she got back… that would have daddy called on her for messing around at recess again. No. That was more dangerous than a puddle on the floor. She gave a lost-cause wave at the bathrooms still half a hallway down, and turned and walked back towards her classroom. The teacher wasn’t in there. She was getting the class. She made the right choice. She couldn’t be not seen in the class line, and then not be in class when they got back in. She’d have to follow the recess rule. “The House in the Big Woods,” Mrs. Evans read to the class while they sat in their seats. It was the first chapter of a series of books that followed a family that moved from civilization out west during the pioneering days. Cait’s stomach rumbled. “Forty minutes, remember?” she told her stomach. It’s response was immediate. A soft gurgle and a smaller rumble of protest, but it didn’t fight her. It just let her know. Forty minutes. That was the limit. Something bad will happen if it has to wait too long. Cait looked at the clock. They came in when the clock has the little hand on the one and the big one on the one. Forty minutes… to be safe… she sounded counting the numbers on the clock. One, two, three… eleven,” she nodded her head at the big number on the clock. And around the clock again… 23 with the little hand on the two. Then 34 with the little hand on the three…. She realized that counting it out, she would have to wait until she was on the bus going home, if she counted that way. But it was the safest way to not get in trouble. She sighed. Gritting her teeth, she steeled her resolve. “When we get home, first stop is the toilet. You can’t go before then. We’ll get caught, otherwise.” Her body protested with a gurgle again. Cait ignored it. This Laura girl was brave and smart that the teacher read about. She was younger, too. Too bad Cait wasn’t like her. She wouldn’t be failing at being a fourth grader if she could be like that girl in the story. Her stomach reminded her that it was still there. “Forty minutes,” she whispered hoarsely at herself. “Just wait!” Her body in-flame-ited at her for a moment before it softly rested again. It wasn’t going to allow her to ignore it, but even if she couldn’t feel away from it, she couldn’t let it go right now. She really couldn’t poop. There was no toilet and in her panties? Gross! Are these flashbacks needed? I understand the slow frustration here, but when things start moving once you are in the middle of the story, you'll be glad to know why Cait does what Cait does.... So, yes, I feel as the writer they are important to you understanting Cait. Chapter Four A Fraction of an Hour The teacher went to the board and she looked around at the class until they started to put the drawing paper the teacher let them draw on away. They were allowed to draw as long as what they drew had something to do with the book she was reading. It was how she could tell the time wasn’t being wasted. That’s what she told Cait and her classmates, and Cait knew that she took wasted time if no one listened to the story, but how the teacher used this story… she still didn’t know if it was a waste of time. She liked it though. It let her rest a moment before she had to start really working again. The teacher wrote a simple number on the board a line and a number under it. One with a line under it and a two under that. “How many of you have seen a number written this way?” Mrs. Evans was asking. Cait saw two numbers though so she scratched her head. Her stomach puffed at her. “No,” Cait told her stomach. “Forty minutes. We agreed.” That was said inside of herself. A few other kids scratched their heads, too, so at least Cait wasn’t alone, but three kids rose their hands confidently while a few others rose their hands a little shakily. Twelve hands were raised with nine shaking. Four kids like Cait were scratching their heads. Eight kids didn’t raise their hands, but they also didn’t look as confused. “This is a fraction,” the teacher told the class. “We call numbers that are not whole numbers, fractions. They tell us how much of one full thing we have. We use fractions all the time….” Cait rubbed her stomach. “You have to wait,” she whispered to herself. “You have to. I’m sorry. The teacher isn’t going to let us go right now, and daddy will be mad if he has to bring us a clean set of clothes, again!” “Cait?” Mrs. Evans called her like she had just called her several times. “What are you whispering about?” “Oh, sorry, nothing. It was just… um… playing?” Cait decided if she said she was playing then Mrs. Evans wouldn’t say she lied about it. “Well, you need to focus, Cait. I just asked you what you thought one third of this circle on the board would look like. Do you have an answer?” She shook her head. “I don’t get it.” A few kids laughed. “We don’t laugh when someone doesn’t get something,” she told her class. “That’s not how society gets better. Cait might not get fractions yet, but you know, once she gets it, she might bring something to the table that even the smartest among us didn’t think about. We wouldn’t know that though if we didn’t help her, would we?” The class seemed to stop and consider her words. “Cait, come to the board, please.” I held my stomach. “No, Cait, you are not getting out of math like that,” Mrs. Evans said. “I know math is hard. Just follow with me for a minute. There will be no number writing right now. Just open your mind.” Cait sighed and nodded. “I wasn’t going to ask to go,” I whispered to her. “I know. Forty minutes.” Mrs. Evans smiled approvingly. “Okay, well, look at the circle again. Can you draw two lines that splits the circle into three parts?” I frowned. “That’s it?” “That’s it, no tricks.” I shrugged and marked two lines as evenly spaced as I could apart inside the circle. “Like that?” “You just made three parts,” Mrs. Evans said. “Right now, we have zero out of three parts colored. That means we have none of it shaded….” I nodded. “Yeah… like three times zero is always zero means zero?” “Good,” Mrs. Evans smiled. “Now, Let’s say I wanted to give two friends some of my pie and keep some for myself?” “I color one piece for one friend, and another color for the second friend, and the last piece is mine?” Cait asked. “Go ahead and color the two pieces, but we just have chalk, so you’ll just color them both in. Don’t worry about each color right now….” My stomach gurgled again. “You may take your seat, Cait.” and she turned to the class. “Miss Cait has just demonstrated two-thirds to us. So now, we are going to pass around some shapes and pieces to those shapes. I want you to look carefully at the parts and how they fit in the full shapes. Maybe we’ll discover something about the number one.” Cait was in a small group with Wanda, Randy, and Tom. “Why didn’t we see you outside at recess after lunch?” Tom asked Cait. “Mrs. Evans wanted me to read some stuff,” I shrugged. “You?” Wanda smirked. “Why would she have you read anything. Everyone in the class knows you are the slowest and dumbest reader. You know it, too, don’t you?” I looked down. “Yeah. I don’t think it was that kind of reading though.” “Oh! Well, why don’t you tell us what you read? Did she give you kindergarten books?” I looked her in the eye. “Maybe. Maybe I read kindergarten books. So what? Why do you care?” Wanda shrugged. “I don’t. I just thought….” “You thought you’d be mean,” Randy said. “And you weren’t? You called her a cat in reading like two months ago, and people are still meowing at her.” Randy frowned. “I was making a joke about the sound of her name. It wasn’t meant to be mean. You… you are just being mean.” Cait looked down at her lap. Did she cause this? She must have. Her name is the only common thing in their fight. “Miss Evans?” Tom rose his hand. “Cait and I can’t work. Wanda is being mean and Randy is being loud.” I shivered. “Now I did it!” I felt pee pee pressing on me, but I knew how to manage that. I let a little bit out so it didn’t get so bad. But I made a mistake. When I did what I always do, and a little little itty bitty bit goes in my panties…. Well, there was a big puff, a small push, and more pee pee went than I wanted, but luckily it wasn’t enough in the cold December day to seep through the cotton tights, the extra long slip that was between the tights and my skirt, and well, the pee didn’t get all the way through. However…, It was almost worse. I almost felt my butt open. Okay, I can’t just leak in my panties right now. That’s a no go. “I think Cait farted,” Randy giggled. “What’s so funny about that?” Tom asked. “Girls don’t fart.” Wanda giggled. “How do you know? Are you a girl?” “Well? Do you fart?” Randy asked. Wanda’s face got red and she crossed her arms and said. “No!” Oh, no. Randy doesn’t think girls fart. If that happens again, he’s going to tell people the wrong thing. I definitely can’t leak in my panties again. After exploring the circles, the longer shapes, and other things for nearly fifteen minutes, Cait’s legs twisting round themselves under the chair, her stomach gassing on her, and her butt trying to push little ghost poops into her panties, Mrs. Evans walked around handing out worksheets to the small groups as she engaged them in small questions and answer sessions about what they noticed about the shapes and the parts. “Cait?” Mrs. Evans addressed first at her group. “T-yeah?” “What did you notice about the parts and the bigger shapes?” “They fit?” I looked down. I knew it was the wrong answer, but I had to say something, didn’t I? And they did fit. “They do fit, don’t they?” Mrs. Evans smiled as I dared to look up at her. I felt myself leak into my panties covered by thick cotton pink tights that had little holes in them from being a little too told, and they were actually a bit tight on me from being a little small on me. But they were warm, and they trapped the warmth of the pee against my panties and I felt another push of air going out of my butt… only… it wasn’t air. It was…. My face got red and I froze for a moment, looking around, scared that someone noticed. Mrs. Evans discussed something about the shape and the parts with Wanda, but my mind muffled the discussion. My body shook and I felt another squirt of pee go into my cotton tights. It was really warm, more warm than usual. It was slimy-like, sticky, and wet. And I could only move forward a little, leaning in on my paper like I was concentrating on a problem, but that wasn’t even the reason I was leaning. I felt it. Another little pushing as a little more slipped out of my butt into my panties. I was doing it. I couldn’t control it. It was coming out when IT wanted, not when I wanted, and every time it did, some more wet followed from peeing. I was shivering inside, my eyes darting left and right ready for when someone would notice and tell on me. Once again, the girl’s memories slipped into the dark again, and she found herself squeezing the box of crayons in her hand. She looked down at her lap and felt the back of her skirt. She had really damp underpants on. She didn’t feel any significant change to the pee already in her panties from wetting earlier in the trip and in her sleep during the drive. There wasn’t any noticeable wetness except the floor of the car had pee all over it that dried and her paper tablet was ruined when she fell asleep and peed on it. The car moved off of the road and onto a dirt road that passed a mailbox and maybe drove a hundred? Two hundred? A little bit up to a place where it curved around to the front of the house. As they pulled to a sliding, rock crunching stop, she could see a tall fat man standing by a farm tractor out by a large truck and then a smaller car. He had white curls that came from a darker gray line of hair just in the base of his head. He had real lines that were like grandpa lines. When mama said cousins, she imagined features like mom and dad, but this man’s lines could be seen from ten feet away, or however far away she was from the car to where he was watching from the tractor. Dad looked back at Cait. His eyes were raised in a way that didn’t show anger, but more just a warning. “You better not be wet,” and then he got out and shut the door leaving me there a little longer. The window down because the air conditioner in the old car didn’t work, I could hear them talk as he approached. The words were louder, much louder, than the near whisper he warned me with. “How was the drive?” the elder man asked. He was old and fat, but there was a strength about him. I could imagine him lifting heavy fire place logs on his shoulders without so much as a grunt from lifting them. “As it should be,” Daddy said. “Hot and miserable. The air doesn’t work, you see, so the only thing we could do is roll the windows down. That has its own discomforts traveling at highway speeds.” Daddy pushed his foot on the tractor that the man was leaning against. “Seven hours in a hot car is no joke,” Daddy was still talking. Then I heard it, the door on the other side of the car was opening, and a woman standing them, tall, elegant, and dressed in a simple but nice brown dress with an apron over it. And that brings us to chapter 4... for this weekend. I do have 50 chapters, but I've also noticed that chapters 3-4 might have blocks that feel less like Cait, so I might double check chapter 5 to get Cait's voice back somehow. Until next weekend... and I do hope to share a couple of chapters a week unless I get too confuddled with life again.

One shot: short story. Not to replace Pearl or Sent Away, but just to fill writer's block. It was already 7:50, and they said they'd be there around eight. I checked my presentation in the mirror again, making sure my hair was managed, my shirt was straight, and I was as sharp as in my military days. One more glance in the child's to be room, the bed was made nice and neat, the dresser was closed up and polished ready for her clothes, the closet door ajar and ready for her stuff, and the floor polished. It was ready. The cookies were cooling on the table, ready for greedy little hands to taste the first impression of who I'd be for her. The doorbell rang at 7:53. I hadn't expected them to be early, and I hesitated for a split second before adjusting my shirt collar and walking toward the door. Through the peephole, I saw a man in a cheap suit with a lanyard around his neck, and beside him, a girl with arms crossed, looking anywhere but at him or the door. The man had a grim expression, while the girl's face was unreadable, save for the faintest hint of defiance. I opened the door and nodded to the man. "Jim Greene?" he asked as if to make sure he had the right house. "Yes, sir. Please come in. The kitchen table is ready to discuss business, and that goes for little guests, too. There are some cookies with your name on them." "Jim, you can't treat this one with kit gloves. She's hostile and a troublemaker. There's a reason no one else will take her. She's thirteen years of age, and has been in the system for four years. She's been in and out of homes, some of them much like yours only with two parents, and she still wore them down." "Well, I'm sure there's a story behind her behavior." "Jim, every child has a story behind their quirks. Her problem, is that she won't let anyone in. She's not getting better, and people are just tired of dealing with her. I'd already be sending her to Juvenile Hall if it weren't for the fact that you are willing to take any child and that she'd never last there. She has problems that would paint a target on her back that said all stray bullets go here." I frowned. "What could be so bad, she'd have a target that big on her?" "She pisses herself. Not just the bed, but her pants, deliberately. She acts like it's not a big deal and just spits at or pushes anyone that tries to talk about it as if it's not normal, but it's not. She's thirteen years old, Jim." The social worker's voice had dropped to a whisper, and I glanced at the girl standing beside him. She was staring at the wall behind me, her jaw set, her shoulders stiff. I wondered if she'd heard him, if she cared. There was something hollow in her posture, like she'd already decided how this would go. "For you caring that she gets one last chance, you aren't selling her on her good points," I pointed out to the man. "You could at least tell me what she's good at, or if she's dependable for something." He sighed. "No one knows. She won't talk to anyone really, and she doesn't act like she cares if she's accepted or not. She'll sit there in math class, and deliberately shit her pants just so the teacher doesn't make her go to the front of the class to solve an easy problem, even." "That's disturbing, if she's really doing it deliberately. But you've seen her do this?" "Jim, I don't have to. It's in her file," and he dropped a heavy folder on the table. I looked from the file to the little lady and frowned. "Hon? What's your name? I promised cookies. You can grab as many as you want from the plate. It's right there on the table, sweetheart." She glanced at me for half a second, then back at the wall. No answer. The social worker rolled his eyes as if to say, 'See what I mean?' "She's just nervous. New place in her life and probably still faceless given you talk like she's seen at least six homes a year." I dismissed his point. "Sweetheart, come and sit down, please?" I put two cookies on the table in front of the chair I offered her. She didn't move, didn't acknowledge me, just kept staring at the wall. The social worker shifted uncomfortably beside her, clearly waiting for me to give up and admit defeat. One thing about me, though, was I was stubborn. Defeat wasn't in my vocabulary. I walked over and took her hand and waited for her to react. I knew her instinct would be to pull away, but it would force a reaction, otherwise, she'd be guided to the table, either way, I'd get something out of the child, a win. She jerked her hand back like I'd burned her and hissed, "Don't touch me!" Her voice was rough, hoarse, as if she'd been screaming recently, or hadn't used it in a while. Her eyes flashed up to mine for a split second, venomous and sharp. But at least she'd spoken. "Good," I whispered to her. "At least I know something bothers you, now. If you don't want me to reach for your hand again, please go sit at the table, honey. We have a lot to discuss even after the nice man leaves." She hesitated, glancing between the table and the door as if calculating which escape route would be easier. Finally, she shuffled toward the chair, her ratty sneakers dragging against the hardwood floor. She didn't sit so much as collapse into the seat, arms folded tight against her chest, fingers digging into her sleeves like claws. The cookies remained untouched. "Defiant or not, that's not normal teen behavior. There are cookies not only for her, but ones in the middle of the table. I'd be less concerned about her if she just grabbed all the cookies on the plate, but as it is, it's not normal for her not to at least take what she is given. Teens are always hungry." I frowned at the social worker. "So, what was her last placement like?" The man shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze as he flipped open the file. "That's confidential information. Unless it's documented here, it's none of your business what other placements have done." His tone was clipped, defensive. "Focus on what's in front of you." "Sir, this is what is in front of me. Every placement affects a child one way or another. I'm not asking for when they told her to go to bed or when they took her for ice cream. I'm just trying to get a sense of the discipline she's already had." I looked over at the girl momentarily. Her eyes flicked to my belt again before darting away, her fingers tightening around her sleeves. The social worker sighed and flipped through the file, but I saw the hesitation in his hands, the way his fingers lingered on certain pages without turning them. "Fine, if that's all the information you can give me, then I'll just work with her from what I know. I still haven't gotten her name. If that's not too much to ask?" I was a little passive aggressive about this, but after all, it seemed he only told me bad things about her, and wouldn't even tell me how she was treated at her last place. I didn't think I owed anyone like that politeness especially as they aired out the teen's problems without having any praise for her at all. The social worker flipped through the file again, hesitating before finally sighing. "Her name is Leah. That's all you're getting from me." He snapped the folder shut with finality, his jaw tight. Leah didn't react to her name being spoken, just kept staring at the table, her fingers now picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. "That's plenty sir. When should I expect the next visit. The kid is starting a new life, so I'm taking her shopping and I don't want to be out when your next visit is." I glanced at the child again, Leah, and wondered if she ever looked at anything but the belt on my hip. The social worker shifted uncomfortably. "Two weeks. That's standard procedure, unless there's an incident." "I'll let you know if there are any incidents," I told him. "But right now, the only thing I plan on, is making this child feel like she belongs here. I don't know what anyone else has done, but no one is comfortable in a place until they know they belong." Leah shifted in her chair at that, her fingers stilling for a fraction of a second before resuming their frantic picking. The social worker exhaled sharply through his nose, like he'd heard this speech before. "Good luck with that, Greene. She's been through the ringer. Don't expect miracles." I laughed. "If you thought I was the type to expected miracles, I doubt you would have driven two hours with her in your car if she's as bad as you say she is." The social worker gave a small shrug before moving toward the door. "Just don't say I didn't warn you." With that, he was gone, leaving Leah and me alone in the kitchen. The silence stretched between us, thick as the scent of peanut butter cookies cooling on the counter. Leah shuffled again, her knees pressing together tightly beneath the table, her shoulders hunched forward like she was trying to fold into herself. Something was off, more than just the defiance, more than the hollow stare. She was hiding something. "Leah, honey, I know it must be hard being moved all the time. I don't expect you to know all the rules at once, hell, even I am not sure what they should be. You're the first kid I've had in my house since nearly twenty years ago. I will tell you this, though, if you accept that my role is to protect you and to give you experiences I think you are ready for, your life with me will be a little easier." She shifted again, pressing her knees tighter together, her fingers now digging into her thighs. The way she sat, rigid, coiled, wasn't just defiance. It was pain. I'd seen that posture before, in the nursing home, when residents tried to hide incontinence accidents from the staff. My stomach dropped. "Baby...," I softened. "Honey? Please stand up. I know you're scared, but I think we need to get you to the potty before it's too late. If it is, it's okay. I won't be mad. I just don't want you to suffer, child." Her breath hitched, and she froze, her fingers digging deeper into her thighs. The flicker in her eyes wasn't just defiance, it was panic. She glanced toward the hallway where the bathroom was, then back at me, calculating. Finally, she shook her head once, sharp, like a dog shaking off water. "You already wet too much? You are scared you aren't going to make it?" I walked over and picked up a cookie handing it to her. "This will help, honey. It will calm you. You can finish in your pants, if you need. Just don't sit there trying to hold it. You are clearly in pain, baby." Leah jerked away, knocking the cookie from my hand onto the floor. "I'm fine," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper, but the tremor in it betrayed her. Her legs were shaking now, pressed together so tightly her knuckles were white where she gripped her thighs. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, though the kitchen wasn't warm. I sighed. I am sorry, but remember how I said it's my job to protect you and to give you experiences you are ready for? Well, right now, you are pissing yourself and scared of it, and may even be hurting yourself from holding it too long." Even as I was speaking, I pulled the defiant child up and started to carry her even as she beat me on my back towards to the toilet. Not caring if she started pissing on me or not. She was surprisingly strong for a malnourished kid, her fists pounding against my shoulders like she was fighting for her life. Her breath came in ragged gasps, halfway between sobs and curses. "Put me down, you bastard!" I ignored her, focusing on the bathroom door just down the hall. The dampness soaking through her jeans was warm against my arm, confirming what I already knew. "In a few steps, baby," I whispered to her as she yelled at me. "In a few steps. You will either need the toilet or a bath, and either way, the bathroom is where that will happen, sweetheart. I know you're scared." I got to the door and had to use her back to gently push the door open and finally sat her seated on the toilet though her clothes were still on. She stared up at me, her chest heaving, her fists still clenched like she was ready to swing again. Her face was flushed, her green eyes wide with something between fury and terror. The wet spot on her jeans had grown, spreading down her thighs, darkening the fabric. "I'll be outside the door, little lady. You can pull down your pants and pee and then when you flush, I'll come back in again. That's my signal you have pulled your pants up if you want them up." Her breath hitched again, her fingers clawing at her jeans now, her knuckles white. She shuffled on the toilet seat, her legs trembling visibly. "I don't need help," she spat, but her voice cracked halfway through, betraying her. She glanced toward the door, then back at me, her jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle twitching. I walked out the door for her, and waited for the signal I had told her about. If she wet through her pants, they were already wet, and I wouldn't care. If she got them down, and peed in the toilet, the better for her self confidence. And if she signaled me before she was dressed again, then I'd just give her a bath.... Right now, it was all up to the signs she showed me. The toilet flushed. I walked back in to see her standing awkwardly by the sink, her jeans bunched around her ankles, her underwear pulled up in the front but still sagging in the back, clinging to her skin where they were soaked. The sour stench hit me before I saw the faint smear of brown on the inside of her thighs. "Baby, bath time," I whispered as I turned on the sink for her hands. "Go ahead and wash your hands, little lady. Then go ahead and take your dirty panties off and your shirt. You need a bath." I started to run the bath for her like she was a little kid. Leah stood frozen by the sink, her fingers twitching at her sides like she wanted to cover herself but couldn’t decide where to start. The wet fabric clung to her thighs, the waistband of her underwear digging into her hips where she’d yanked it up unevenly. A faint tremor ran through her legs, and she kept shifting her weight from foot to foot like she was standing on hot coals. "I know you're just nervous, little lady. No matter what that man said about math class, I am not under the impression you stood there peeing your pants deliberately in my kitchen. You were too nervous to do that. It's okay. Everyone gets scared sometimes." Leah's breath hitched again, her fingers tightening around the hem of her shirt like she wanted to pull it down over her thighs but couldn't move. The water in the tub rose steadily, steam curling into the air between us. She glanced at the bath, then back at her feet, her toes curling against the cold tile. I sighed. "Sweetheart, if you don't take off your shirt on your own, I'll have to do it. You need a bath. Now, you being thirteen, I'd think you'd rather not be touched if you are removing your clothes for a bath. So show me you are a big kid, okay?" Leah hesitated, her fingers twitching at the hem of her shirt. She glanced at the bathwater, then back at me, her jaw clenched tight enough to crack walnuts. Slowly, reluctantly, she peeled the shirt over her head, her arms shaking. The moment it was off, she crossed them over her chest, her shoulders hunching forward like she could disappear into herself. "Honey, there is no rule you have to face me. You can turn so your chest is facing away. I understand that you feel vulnerable. It's just you are really smelly and not just because you pottied your pants. You smell like you didn't bathe for at least a few days." Leah flinched at that, her arms tightening around her chest. She turned stiffly, presenting her back to me, her shoulders hunched like she expected a blow any second. The waistband of her underwear was still twisted, the wet fabric clinging to her thighs in uneven clumps. A faint, sour odor clung to her, the kind that didn’t come from just one accident. That's when I saw there was still a log of poop mushed in her panties. I sighed. Her panties were multiple stained, like she had peed herself more than twice. I shook my head. This wasn't from just being in the car either. She had to have had the same panties on since being at school earlier that day before I was called. That meant no one had even changed her. "Honey? Don't you even have any clean clothes with you?" I asked putting a tender hand on her shoulder. Leah flinched away, her breath quickening. She shook her head once, sharp, her fingers digging into her arms where she hugged herself. The waistband of her underwear had ridden up unevenly in the back, exposing the smeared mess clinging to her skin. She kept shifting her weight, like standing still burned. "Well, I need to help get the mess out of your butt because that's hard for a teen to get on her own, and after I get the mess off of you, you can take a bath on your own. I'll be making some calls to get you something to wear so you feel more confident around me." I gently put my hands on the waistband of her panties. "I need to do it, or the poop might fall on the floor, sweetheart. At least if It falls on the floor when I do it, then you can't be blamed, right?" Leah sucked in a sharp breath when my fingers touched the elastic, her whole body going rigid. She didn't nod, didn't speak, just squeezed her eyes shut tight enough that wrinkles formed around them. I pulled her panties down carefully, watching as the mess clinging to them peeled away from her skin with a soft, wet sound. A small chunk plopped onto the tile between her feet. Leah whimpered, her knees knocking together. "It's okay, baby. Good girl. I know this is hard. I didn't plan on cleaning up a thirteen year old kid either, but I can't leave you like this. That would be neglect, sweetheart." I started to notice rashes on her legs and light marks from a belt being used on her, at least multiple times, from likely the day before if not that morning before school. I washed her bottom up the best I could, getting the poop away from her and even had to get in her butt area so it didn't linger. "Turn around a moment, honey. I need to check the poop isn't on your front, or you can get an infection." Leah hesitated, trembling like a leaf in wind, then slowly rotated. Her ribs stood out starkly beneath her skin, bruises blooming along her sides in uneven patches. Fresh welts, thin and angry, striped her lower back, definitely from this morning. I swallowed hard, keeping my voice steady. "Someone's been hitting you," I whispered. "That why you were scared to move earlier, thinking if you hid it long enough, I wouldn't know you peed, so you wouldn't get hit?" Her breath hitched again, her arms tightening around herself like she could squeeze the words back in. The bruises on her ribs were old, yellowed at the edges, but the welts were fresh, raised and red, the kind that still sting hours later. The bathwater kept rising, steam curling around her trembling legs. "Change of plans," I let out the bath water. "That water is too hot and is going make your stings hurt worse. We'll do a soft lukewarm shower instead. I won't hurt your owies as much, okay?" Leah's breathing was shallow, quick little gasps like a trapped rabbit. She stared at the drain as the water swirled away, her toes curling against the tile. I adjusted the showerhead to a gentle spray, testing the temperature on my wrist before guiding her toward it. "You go ahead and take a moment to rinse off and relax. When I come back in, I'll help you clean up so don't touch your owies. Let me help. I have something that will make it hurt less than regular soap." I left the bathroom to give her a little space to calm down while I called a good friend. "Jenny? Does your daughter wear...." I picked up the panties I had from Leah. "Size 12's or close to it in teen? I am in trouble over here, and was given a girl that needs clothes. They finally let me foster, but she came to my house no clean clothes at all, and she's a mess. Someone's been mistreating in her and neglecting her hygiene." Jenny gasped softly on the other end. "Oh Jim. I'll have Sarah pack a bag, bras, panties, pajamas, the works. We'll be there in twenty." The line went dead before I could thank her. I came back in the bathroom with a smile. "How's the water, honey? Too hot? Too cold? If it is, we can try to adjust it." Leah stood rigid under the spray, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest, the water running in rivulets down her bruised ribs. She shook her head once, sharp, her wet hair clinging to her shoulders like seaweed. The welts on her back glistened under the water, angry and raw. I reached under the sink and pulled out some soaps and stuff I personally bought when I was expected to give baths at the nursing home. I didn't like that they used generic stuff on some of them because they had different kinds of sores from being in wet diapers sometimes for too long, or from falls or whatever, and I never felt right cleaning them with abrasive soap that hurt them worse. "Here, honey, now I'm sorry, but you need to let me see. I'm not going to touch, but I need to see how red your... pee pee place is." Leah jerked back, her hands flying to cover herself, eyes wide with panic. The water sluiced off her trembling skin, revealing the raw patches between her thighs, deep red, almost chafed, like she'd been rubbing against rough fabric for days. I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to stay steady. "Honey, did men touch you there? Is that why you are scared? I promise, you will do any touching, if it needs doing. I just need to see how bad the rash is. I need to know what to tell the doctor. Your skin isn't happy at all.... or if you are too scared... I do have a friend coming with clothes. She's a woman. She could maybe look instead, if that's better?" Leah's breath came in short, ragged bursts, her fingers digging into her thighs. She shook her head violently, sending droplets flying from her tangled hair. "No doctor," she muttered, her voice barely audible over the shower spray. "No doctor," I sighed. "Did a doctor hurt you when you were last checked?" Her fingers dug deeper into her thighs, her knuckles whitening. The water ran pink where her nails broke skin. I turned the showerhead away from her wounds, letting the spray hit the tiles instead. "Okay, no doctor right now. But we gotta treat this rash, baby. It looks painful. I will let you choose though, if my friend Jenny helps you put the stuff to help your rash or if you let me. I know it's your body, but either way, you need medicine, and it's neglect and harmful for me not to take care of it, somehow." Leah's shoulders hunched forward, her wet hair clinging to her face like a curtain. She didn't answer, just stood there trembling, the water washing away the grime but not the tension in her spine. A knock at the front door startled us both. "That'll be Jenny, honey. It's okay. I'll just let you think about who you want to help you while I go talk to my friend. Trust me, I don't want you to hurt, that's why the not so hot bath. I know that would sting open wounds and barely healed bruising." Leah didn't respond, just clenched her jaw tighter, her fingers twitching like she wanted to cover herself but couldn't decide where to start. I grabbed a clean towel from the rack and draped it over the shower curtain rod where she could reach it. I walked out and to the front door, where I immediately pulled Jenny and Sarah into the house. "It's worse than I thought. They've hit her, bad. And she's got rashes from them not letting her clean herself enough... in places... a girl her shouldn't have them. She's scared, and I'm not sure, but she might feel better if you put the medicine on her the first time instead of me." Sarah, Jenny's sixteen-year-old, clutched the duffel bag tighter, her eyes widening. "Oh my god, Dad told me to pack underwear and bras, but I didn't think, " she whispered, "You mean she doesn't have anything?" "She just has the dirty clothes she came in, and apparently, she's been wearing pooped in panties since at least the school day earlier. They got to my place at eight, so you can imagine how long that's been. That's when I noticed the rashes. I couldn't let her try to clean up poop by herself. She's only thirteen, and thirteen year olds shouldn't be pooping their pants, so shouldn't be expected to know how to get clean after an accident like that." Sarah's face twisted in sympathy. "I'll help her," she said firmly, already moving toward the hallway. "I've got pads in here too, just in case." She hesitated, glancing back at me. "But, uh, maybe you should stay out here." "That's the plan, only she is going to have to trust me eventually. You can't change her everytime she has problems. According to the social worker who dropped her, she wets her pants on a daily basis, but he didn't really give me a good reason a kid her age would do that." Sarah hesitated, her fingers tightening around the duffel bag straps. "Did they even try to figure out why?" "I am more than sure they didn't. If they had, they'd have seen she was abused. It's like he just 'warned me' that she was socially unacceptable, but I know there's gotta be more to her story. Don't worry, I'll figure it out, but for now, my most important duty is to get her clean and comfortable. Once she feels safe, she'll open up." Sarah nodded and disappeared down the hallway with the duffel bag. The shower had stopped running by the time Jenny and I reached the kitchen. Jenny busied herself making tea while I stared at the untouched cookies on the table, now gone cold and hard. The social worker's words echoed in my head, *deliberate incontinence*. Bullshit. No kid deliberately sat in filth unless they'd been taught their pain didn't matter. "I didn't know how much to tell your daughter. I didn't want to scare her more than she probably already was. But I know that thirteen year old children don't just deliberately piss themselves let alone, crap their pants in front of all their peers in math class unless something has taught them that that was the only acceptable thing that doesn't hurt them." I looked at Jenny to to see what she thought of what I said. Jenny's hands trembled around the mug she was filling. The teabag string snapped under her grip. "Jesus, Jim. Those welts looked fresh. You think she wet herself to avoid another beating?" "Something like that," I muttered. "I know she would rather sit at the table and slowly pee herself so I didn't see her doing it, than admit she needed the toilet. That's exactly what she did. I had to pick her up and carry her to the bathroom just to get her to the toilet to even try, and then I noticed she pooped, and the poop, it was dry. I know for a fact it happened at least at school, maybe even before school." Jenny stirred her tea absently, her brow furrowed. "That's deliberate neglect. You don't just ignore a thirteen-year-old sitting in filth unless you want them to suffer." "The problem is that is a big accusation because I'd be accusing the school and social services of the same neglect since the man drove her two hours to my place in those messy pants. I don't think anyone will believe me if I told them like that. And that's probably why she didn't correct him when he said she deliberately wets her pants in class at school." Jenny sighed and rubbed her forehead. "So what are you going to do?" "Take care of the child, first and foremost. If we can build a case after I get her to talk about it, then I press it, but more importantly than building a case against her abusers, is to make her feel safe and cared for. She can be violent, but given what she's hinted at, she has reason to be. She ... I'm not sure... I think a doctor sexually abused her. I just wanted to put medicine on her, and told her we'd see a doctor. She covered herself from me, and that's natural. But then she said NO doctor, as if, the very thought... well, it was a bit unnatural the way she said it." Jenny nodded. "I'll tell Sarah to be extra gentle with her, and not to ask too many questions." "I haven't heard any outrage yet. Trust me, if Sarah wasn't already being careful, well, if I took off my shirt, I think you'd see little fist marks on my back where she beat me for carrying her to the bathroom." Jenny snorted, stirring her tea with excessive force. "Yeah, well, considering what you just told me, I'd say she earned the right to throw a few punches." She glanced toward the hallway where faint murmurs drifted from the bathroom. "Think she'll talk to Sarah?" "Not right away, for sure. But if Sarah is patient and doesn't make her feel like a freak for pottying her pants all the time, because I am afraid that's not going away over night, but if she's nice to her and understanding, I could see her maybe opening up to her. Sarah's another kid, so probably feels safer to open up to than to an adult." Jenny nodded, swirling her tea. The steam curled around her face as she took a careful sip. "Sarah's got a good heart. She won't push." "Honestly, of all the church people, that's why I called you instead of the relief society president or anyone else. I don't trust too many people to understand the stress this child has been under and you might think I'm a freak for it, but I plan on treating the baby like an eight year old until she's ready to be a teenager. Right now, with the way she's been treated, I don't think expecting teen behavior from her is the right thing for now." Jenny set her mug down with a soft clink. "You're not a freak, Jim. Trauma does that to kids, freezes them at the age they were hurt. Sarah wet the bed till she was eleven after her grandfather died." She hesitated, then added quietly, "You think that's why she's... having accidents?" "Honestly, the social guy wouldn't tell me even what her last home was like. It was like taking a bone from a hungry dog to even get him to tell me her name. So I don't know what her problem is, but I do know what trauma looks like, and this is clearly a response to trauma. Scared to let someone know she's peed her pants, rather peeing her pants than letting someone see she's started to not make it, violent to push away anyone trying to help, defiant and forcefully telling people to not touch her when she clearly needs help.... One thing alone, no, that's not trauma, but everything the way she's acted today... and even reluctantly letting me get closer the more I saw and clear abusive marks on her skin... that IS trauma." Jenny exhaled sharply, tapping her nails against the ceramic mug. The hallway faucet squeaked off, followed by muffled whispers and the rustle of fabric. "You're right. It's textbook. Freeze response, hypervigilance, avoidance, " She cut herself off as Sarah emerged from the hallway, her face pale. "I'm sorry if she said or did anything mean to you," I told Sarah. "She's not in her right mind, won't be until she feels safe. You look pale. Did she hurt you?" Sarah shook her head, clutching the duffel bag to her chest. "No, she just... she didn't talk. At all." Her voice cracked. "Mom, when I helped her dry off, I saw... bruises on her back, like someone took a belt to her yesterday." She swallowed hard. "And her wrists, there are marks, like she was tied up." I nodded. "I know someone took a belt to her. She was scared of me helping her too much, so I didn't really get a good look at her hands, but I saw that she not only had belt marks, but she's been bruised from someone actually hitting her with other things. She's got rashes from neglect, and she's very violent if you get too pushy because she's defending herself. So, are you sure she didn't hurt you? Don't worry, I won't hit her. I just want to make sure you are okay." Sarah shook her head again. "No, she didn't hurt me. She just froze when I touched her. Like, completely stiff. I had to guide her arms into the sleeves because she wouldn't move." She bit her lip. "She's wearing my old sleep shorts and a tee now. The underwear... she wouldn't let me help with that part." "Did she at least put some on? Honey, she's not ready to talk right now. It's not you. You are a very good person, and if anyone is going to reach her, it's probably going to be you... eventually, but only if you want to try to be her friend. She's not going to be easy to get to know or be friendly at all until she feels safe." Sarah nodded, twisting the hem of her shirt between her fingers. "I... I left them on the counter. She didn't throw them at me or anything." She hesitated, then added quietly, "She smelled like antiseptic. I think she put the rash cream on herself." "Oh, honey. That's why I wanted Jenny, your mom, to help her. I was afraid she'd try to, but only being thirteen, she might not have put in places that really hurt because you know how hard it is to touch an open sore that hurts, and you remember being thirteen, right?" Sarah twisted the hem of her shirt tighter around her fingers, her knuckles whitening. "Yeah. I remember." Her voice was barely audible. "She didn't scream when I helped her dry off, just... clenched her teeth. I didn't even know she had welts until I saw her back." "Yeah, she's got em though, and they do wrap around her, hitting her stomach and thighs on the front, like a belt out of control." Sarah's breath hitched, her fingers twitching toward her own waist reflexively. "Who would do that to a kid?" "Not anyone good," I shook my head. "So, just understand, if she's curt with you, if she's violent sometimes, or she's just stand offish and offensive with language, she's just doing what she's learned will protect her from getting hurt one way or another. Can I ask a special request of you, this Sunday?" Sarah wiped her palms on her jeans, her brow furrowed. "What?" "I don't want her sitting with strangers until she feels safe, and I'm not even sure she'll really trust me yet, but she's seen you were gentle. Can you find it in your heart to miss the older Sunday school class to sit with her in hers, and maybe help her if you see her squirming or possibly wetting herself?" Sarah's fingers stilled against her jeans. She glanced toward the hallway where soft shuffling footsteps approached, then back at me with slow understanding. "You think she'll have another accident?" "Honey, she's going to be wetting her pants daily until she feels safe. I don't know how often she does this, but the panties I took off her earlier indicated she peed herself at least three times today on top of the time she pooped her pants. That's not going to go away anytime soon." Sarah exhaled sharply, pressing her knuckles against her lips. The shuffling footsteps paused just beyond the kitchen doorway, followed by the faint creak of floorboards as Leah shifted her weight. I kept my voice low. "She's listening. So be careful what you say, " I murmured. Jenny reached over and squeezed Sarah's shoulder. "You don't have to do this if you're not comfortable." "No, you don't. I said it was a favor. If you can't do it, there is no shame in saying this is too much. She's been rejected from homes because people couldn't deal with her situation, and some of them might have been good people that were just overwhelmed. It doesn't make you a bad person to admit something is too much. You are still just a teenager." Sarah's jaw set. She smoothed her palms down her thighs and stood straighter. "I'll do it," she said, too loudly, her voice carrying toward the hallway. The floorboards creaked again, Leah stepping back. "She shouldn't be alone." "She won't be. I'll be there. I just thought... a friend... would be helpful." Sarah nodded, her shoulders squaring with determination. From the hallway came the softest sniffle, barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator. Leah was still there, hovering just out of sight. I lowered my voice further. "She's terrified of doctors. If those welts get infected, " I hesitated, "Jenny, do you still have those antibiotic ointments from when Sarah had her bike accident?" Jenny's eyes flicked toward the hallway. "The strong ones? Yeah, but they sting." "Better they sting because they are healing than the sores sting because they are getting worse. I'll be gentle and warn her. Of course. Sometimes, it takes a little pain before you feel better. I don't think she's a stranger to pain, though." The hallway floorboards creaked again, louder this time. Leah stood in the doorway, barefoot in Sarah's borrowed sleep shorts, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. The oversized tee shirt draped off one bony shoulder, exposing the edge of a fresh welt. Her eyes darted between us like a trapped animal assessing exits. "Sweetheart, please come to the table?" I asked. "You're a big girl. You don't need to be carried, right?" Leah hesitated, her fingers tightening around the hem of her oversized tee. The fabric stretched taut over her knuckles, revealing the faint tremor in her hands. She took one shuffling step forward, then stopped, her gaze darting to Sarah. "Sarah's not judging YOU, honey. She's just mad at the people that hurt you. You can ask her if you want. That's what she's been telling her mom. She's scared for you because she saw you were hurt, honey." Leah's breath hitched. She took another halting step forward, her knees trembling under the shorts that hung loose on her hips. The waistband slipped lower, revealing the top edge of another welt. Sarah sucked in a sharp breath but quickly schooled her expression. I got up and walked over. "I won't touch unless you say so, but let me help you if I can." I pulled up her shorts for her. "It's okay, honey. No one's mad at you, baby." Leah flinched but didn't pull away. Her breath came in shallow bursts, her ribs protruding sharply beneath the thin fabric. Up close, I could see the way her lower lip had been bitten raw, the skin around her nails chewed ragged. "Come and sit, sweetie. You can still have a cookie. I am not mad you threw the cookie. It helped me understand you, actually. Everything you did earlier, has been helping me understand what this piece of crap folder says about you." Leah stared at the cookies, then at the folder in my hand, her case file, handed to me with a dismissive shrug by the social worker. Her throat worked silently as I flipped it open to reveal the sparse, typed pages inside. "See? It says 'defiant.' 'Nonverbal.' 'Incontinent.' Like you're a problem to be solved, not a kid who's been hurt." I tapped the page. "But you showed me the truth today. You're scared. And you have every right to be." Sarah edged closer, hesitantly reaching for the duffel bag. "I brought pajamas," she murmured. "And socks. The kind with the grippy bottoms, so you don't slip." "You're allowed to wet the pajamas," I whispered to Leah. "Everyone at this table knows, any night wetting isn't something you are choosing to do. You won't make Sarah mad if the pajamas get wet, and no one will hit. The only rule I have, is you come to me and tell me you've peed so you are not sitting in filth for hours anymore. That's it." Leah's fingers twitched against her thighs, her nails digging crescent moons into the fabric. The fluorescent kitchen light caught the thin sheen of sweat above her lip. Sarah shifted the duffel bag onto the table with deliberate slowness, unzipping it to reveal folded cotton pajama sets, each sleeve meticulously turned inside out to showcase the softness within. "See? Sarah even knows you'll wet the bed, we just told her, and she's still offering. She's trying to be your friend, honey." Leah stared at the pajamas, her breathing uneven. A droplet of water slid from her damp hair onto the collar of Sarah's borrowed shirt. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached out and touched the fabric of the nearest pajama top, a faded purple with tiny stars. Her fingers trembled as they brushed the material. "I'll be glad to replace anything that my baby accidentally wets in. I know it won't feel good to wear someone else's pee even if you know it was washed. I just got blindsided with her and had no chance to buy anything that would fit her. It was an emergency, or I wouldn't have asked you for some of your daughter's clothes." I looked at Jennifer apologetically. Sarah's fingers hovered near Leah's wrist without touching. "You can keep them," she said softly. "I outgrew these months ago." The lie came easily; the pajamas still smelled faintly of fabric softener, freshly laundered. Leah's breath hitched as her fingers curled around the purple fabric, clutching it to her chest like a shield. I knew it was a lie, and I looked at Jennifer, because it was the parents who had to replace the clothes. I was sincere and was already reaching for my wallet wondering how much to give her for the clothes. Jenny waved me off, her eyes locked on Leah. "Sarah's outgrown them," she lied smoothly. "They'd just go to charity otherwise." I sighed seeing that they must have agreed on this in the car on the way here. I would maybe ask them to take some money later, when Leah wasn't listening, or maybe just buy her daughter something sometime to replace something. They really saved me. And Leah. -the embarrassment of not having anything to take Leah shopping in the next day that didn't smell or was stained so badly. Leah clutched the pajamas tighter, her knuckles whitening against the fabric. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken understanding, until Sarah cleared her throat and nudged the duffel bag closer. "There's toothbrushes in the side pocket," she said. "The pink one's new. I... figured you might need one." I sniffled at how helpful they really were. I didn't have an extra toothbrush, either. I had nothing. After all, eight months ago, they said I wouldn't likely get any kid. I had given up. Leah's fingers brushed against the toothbrush, her touch tentative as if expecting it to be snatched away. She glanced at Sarah, then back at the pink plastic handle, her throat working silently. "Do you want to brush your teeth?" I asked Leah. "You can. It will be bedtime after I make you some dinner. You've had a long day, and I can see you are tired." Leah didn't answer, but her grip tightened around the toothbrush. She glanced toward the hallway, then back at the table, her shoulders tense. "Go ahead. Go test your toothbrush out, sweetheart. I need to start dinner for you anyway, and maybe your friend and her mom will eat with us just for tonight?" I looked at Jennifer mouthing 'please.' Sarah moved first, stepping sideways to give Leah a clear path to the hallway. Leah hesitated, clutching the pajamas and toothbrush like armor, then darted past them, her bare feet slapping against the linoleum. The bathroom door clicked shut a second later, followed by the muffled rush of tap water. I smiled at Jennifer. "She's actually opening up to Sarah faster than I thought. She hasn't once yelled at her, and she seems to be watching her for cues. That's better than my first reception with her." I started to prepare spaghetti, something fast and simple. "I hope spaghetti is alright, Sarah. I know it's a cliche kid food, but I think with the stress of tonight and also maybe just a hint that Leah is still a little girl, it might help soothe her for the night." Sarah leaned against the counter, picking at her nails. "It's fine. Besides, spaghetti reminds me of home, too." "I didn't expect you to bring Sarah with you, but I'm really glad you did. I think Leah is warming up to her," I told Jennifer. "I know you both lied about the donation, and I appreciate you making Leah feel comfortable having the clothes. I just hope she didn't get anything that's a favorite because she will likely poop in it, Sarah. It's just a sad fact that it's going to take time for her to feel safe enough to do what is normal for everyone else." Sarah shrugged. "I don't care. Clothes are just clothes. Besides, she needs them more than I do." The bathroom door creaked open, and Leah shuffled back into the hallway. She'd changed into the purple pajamas, the sleeves pooling over her hands. The toothbrush was clutched tightly in her fist, still damp. Her eyes darted to the stove where I stirred the spaghetti sauce, then to Sarah, lingering for a fraction of a second before she looked away. "Sweetheart, you don't have to say thank you," I told Leah. "Sarah knows you appreciate it, but if you did say or show her that, it would be very satisfying she knows she helped you even a little bit?" Leah froze mid-step, her damp toothbrush dripping onto the floor. Sarah held her breath as Leah's fingers flexed around the pajama sleeves. Then, ever so slightly, Leah dipped her chin, not quite a nod, but close enough. Sarah exhaled sharply, her lips twitching into a wobbly smile. "Please sit at the table, honey, you can pick your place so you don't feel crowded, but Spaghetti will be done in a few minutes. You need to eat before bedtime." Leah edged toward the table, her socked feet scuffing against the linoleum. She paused behind the chair farthest from the stove, her fingers tracing the wooden backrest like she was mapping its texture. Sarah busied herself setting out plates, deliberately placing Leah's fork on the right side, the side without scars encircling her wrist like faded handcuffs. "Good girl. Take the seat that feels safest, baby. It's almost done." I continued trying to coax Leah to sit, hoping not to push but to encourage. Leah hesitated before pulling out the chair, her gaze flicking to Sarah again as if checking for some silent approval. She settled stiffly onto the edge of the seat, her spine rigid, hands folded tightly in her lap. The pajama sleeves still swallowed her wrists, concealing the worst of the marks. "Sarah, there's milk in the fridge, if you would be okay drinking that with Leah just for tonight with dinner. I want Leah drinking milk with her meals for a while instead of tea or other things because she's underweight. I feel like Milk will be more nutritional in case she can't eat enough regular food yet." Sarah nodded and fetched the milk without hesitation, pouring Leah a glass first and setting it carefully in front of her. Leah stared at the glass, her fingers twitching as if fighting the instinct to grab it. The condensation beaded on the surface, sliding down to pool on the tablecloth. "That milk is yours," I told Leah as I got her plate ready. "You go ahead and drink, baby. There's more if you want. There's no limit on milk for you in this house, unless there just isn't any in the fridge, then guess what? We go buy some as soon as we can." Leah's fingers twitched toward the glass, her nails tapping lightly against the condensation. She lifted it carefully, both hands trembling as she brought it to her lips. The first sip left a faint white mustache above her mouth, which she quickly wiped away with the back of her sleeve. "Good girl," I whispered when she wiped her mouth. "And here's some spaghetti. You are a child. No rules about what you use to eat. If you get your sleeves a little saucy, you miss your mouth and get your cheek, or make any other mess, it's allowed here, baby. I just want most of the food in your tummy and not on the floor because my goal is to make you healthy." Leah stared at the steaming plate as I set it down, her hands tightening around the fork. She stabbed at a noodle clumsily, sending sauce splattering onto the tablecloth. Her shoulders tensed, waiting for rebuke that didn't come. "Baby, don't you know how to eat spaghetti like other little kids?" I asked. "It's okay if you don't. We can teach you." Leah froze mid-bite, a noodle dangling from her lips. Sarah giggled and twirled her own fork dramatically. "Watch, like this." She spun her fork until the noodles coiled neatly around the tines, then slurped them up with exaggerated satisfaction. Leah blinked, sauce smeared across her chin. I took Leah's hand with her fork in it, and put it in the middle of a clump of noodles, and then released her hand. "Go ahead, twirl the fork, sweetheart. Do it as full or light as you want and pull it away. Some noodles will drip off the fork, but that's okay. Put it in your mouth like Sarah showed you.... It's okay. You're a child, honey. Children are supposed to get a little messy when they eat." Leah hesitantly twirled the fork, her movements jerky, sauce dripping onto her sleeve. She lifted it to her mouth, her eyes flicking between me and Sarah as if expecting punishment for the mess. Instead, Sarah grinned and twirled another bite, deliberately letting noodles slap against her chin. Leah exhaled sharply through her nose, almost a laugh, before shoving her own forkful in. I smiled and looked at Jennifer. One more mission a success... getting the child to eat one comfortable meal. I looked at Leah with tenderness as she continued eating. "Sarah, honey, I think Leah will want to sleep after dinner, and I want you to go home with your mom, but I want you to tell Leah goodbye before you leave, okay?" Sarah nodded. "I will." After dinner, I started to stack up the dishes, and even though Sarah started to help, I shook my head no. "It's not that I don't appreciate the help, but right now, my little baby is more of a concern I need help with than a few plates I can wash in the sink. You promised to tell her goodnight, okay?" Sarah hesitated, then nodded and turned to Leah, who was still sitting at the table, staring at her empty plate like she wasn't sure what to do next. "Hey, Leah," Sarah said softly, "I gotta go home now, but I'll see you soon, okay?" She waited for any reaction, but Leah just sat there stiffly, her hands clenched in her lap. That's when I saw it, the dark stain spreading across the seat of Sarah's borrowed shorts, the way Leah's thighs trembled as she pressed them together. Sarah followed my gaze and inhaled sharply. Before she could speak, I shook my head slightly. Leah hadn't moved, hadn't even breathed, since realizing we'd noticed. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the chair seat, her shoulders hunched like she expected blows to rain down any second. Sarah swallowed hard and crouched beside Leah's chair without touching her. "May I please change her pants?" she asked me, her voice deliberately calm. "I want her to know it's okay and she's not a freak for having an accident." Leah flinched at the word 'freak,' a whimper escaping her clenched teeth. "I think that's very sweet of you, but ask your mom, honey. It's up to her. As far as I'm concern, as long as Leah is willing to let you touch her, you are allowed to change her anytime, but it's your mom's decision on how involved you get, okay?" Jenny hesitated, watching Leah's shallow breathing, the way her fingers dug into the chair cushion. "Sarah's gentle," she murmured finally. "And Leah's already trusted her once today." "I know. I just wanted to have your permission. This is about your daughter's safety and expectations being met, too." I nodded at Jennifer. Sarah kept her hands visible as she knelt beside Leah's chair. "Hey," she murmured. "Remember the pajamas? They're still yours. Even if they get wet." Leah's breath hitched, her fingers trembling against the chair. Sarah waited, then added, "Can I help you change? No belts. No yelling. Just clean clothes." I looked over to Leah. "She's right, sweetheart. No one hits you with a belt around me. That's not how you treat a child, even an older child struggling to stay dry in the daytime." Leah's chest rose and fell rapidly, her lips pressed into a thin line. A tear escaped down her cheek, carving a path through the spaghetti sauce still smudged near her mouth. She didn't nod, but she didn't pull away when Sarah slowly reached for the waistband of her shorts. "Go ahead and take her, gently. She'll let you know if she doesn't want to be touched. She yelled at me the first time not to touch her, so if she gets scared or doesn't want you to touch her, she'll let you know, Sarah. Just don't do anything that puts you in danger of being hit. It's not important that you change her if she gets scared... that's my job." Sarah nodded, her fingers hovering near Leah's waistband. "I'll stop if you want," she whispered to Leah. "Just say 'red' if you need me to back off." Leah's breath stuttered, her knees pressing together tighter as Sarah carefully peeled the soiled shorts away. The wet fabric stuck to Leah's thighs, leaving damp streaks on her skin. Sarah worked slowly, her movements deliberate like defusing a bomb. "Sarah, wait a moment. She's still pressing her legs. She's scared she's going to pee again. Maybe take her to the bathroom so the toilet is an option, but if she wets on the floor, let her know I expected it, and it's okay." Sarah guided Leah toward the bathroom with feather-light touches, her socked feet sliding against the linoleum. The moment the bathroom tile touched her bare toes, Leah froze, her body rigid as a corpse. A faint trickle hit the floor between her trembling legs. Sarah inhaled sharply but didn't pull away. "It's okay," she whispered. "The floor cleans." "That's what I was talking about earlier. She'd rather sit there and wet her pants quietly at dinner than everyone know she's peeing. You saw yourself, that even though it looked like she felt safe, she still hides needing to pee." I looked to see if Jenny got the same message I did. Jenny sucked in a breath through her teeth. "Conditioned," she murmured. "They trained her to piss herself silently rather than ask." Her fingers dug into the countertop. Sarah kept wiping Leah's thighs with a damp washcloth, her strokes gentle despite the tension in her jaw. Leah sat motionless on the toilet lid, her knees pressed together, staring at the tile between her socked feet. "I don't hear peeing at all. I'm going to check on the girls." I walked over and pushed the bathroom door open. "Leah, baby, you can pee. Go in the toilet or in your pants, it doesn't matter, but please pee. You shouldn't be holding it past the point you are leaking. You can hurt your body doing that." Sarah paused mid-wipe, the damp cloth hovering over Leah's knee. Leah hadn't moved except to tremble, her thighs pressed tight together even as droplets pattered onto the tile. Sarah's mouth tightened. "That's not just abuse," she shook her head. "It's... it's like she thinks she has to sit there or something." "I know," I told Sarah. "That's why I'm giving her permission to pee. I don't know what else to do other than to try seeing if she needs permission to let it happen before she finally pees. She's done this twice like this in front of me now." I looked back at Leah. "Baby? Go ahead and pee. I don't care, pants or toilet, but please pee, okay?" Sarah's fingers hovered near Leah's knee, not touching anymore, just waiting. The only sound was Leah's shallow breathing and the occasional drip on the tile. Finally, Leah's shoulders sagged slightly, her trembling hands gripping the toilet seat as a rush of liquid hit the bowl. Sarah exhaled sharply through her nose. I looked over as Jennifer came up on us, and nodded. "She needs permission to pee, I think. It's the only thing that makes sense. She didn't start letting it go full force until I told her to do it, did she, Sarah?" Sarah shook her head. "No. She just... waited." "And looked scared every time she realized she wet enough to be noticed that another leak escaped?" I prodded Sarah. Sarah nodded, her fingers still hovering near Leah's knee where the washcloth had left damp streaks on pale skin. "Yeah. Like she was waiting for, " She cut herself off, her throat working. Leah's breathing hitched, her fingers tightening around the toilet seat until her knuckles bleached white. "Waiting for permission. This is more than just punishing a child for peeing her pants. This is deliberate control of her body and making her feel ashamed of what is normal to happen." I walked over and hugged my baby. "We'll get through this, sweetheart. We will. I know you're scared, but grandpa is never letting anyone hit you again, whether you pee on accident or deliberately, ever. You understand, baby?" Leah flinched at the hug but didn't pull away, her damp pajama sleeves clinging to my arms. Her breathing slowed slightly, though her fingers still trembled where they gripped my shirt. Sarah remained crouched beside us, her fingers brushing the damp washcloth against her own knee absently. "Can I...stay?" she asked quietly. "Just for tonight? In case she needs help changing again?" "You have school tomorrow, honey. Tomorrow is Wednesday. I don't think your mom can pick you up early enough to get you to school because I live pretty far from town, and I doubt you should miss a day." Sarah hesitated, glancing at Leah who sat frozen on the toilet lid, her soaked pajama pants pooled around her ankles. "She's scared," Sarah whispered. "Like... really scared." "I know, but she's my responsibility, not yours. I'm the one that wanted a kid in my house, honey. You go study and maybe after school, your mom will let you check on your friend. But I have to take care of my baby, too." Sarah hesitated, then nodded and gathered up the damp clothes. "Okay. But promise you'll call if she needs anything? Like... anything." "I'll call your mom and if your mom thinks it's not going to interfere with what you need to do, then she'll let you come and help, honey. And you are welcome to come after school as long as your mom is up for it." The bathroom light buzzed faintly overhead as Leah remained motionless on the toilet lid, her damp pajama bottoms in a crumpled heap by her feet. Sarah hesitated at the doorway, clutching the soiled clothes to her chest. "Text me," she mouthed to Jennifer, who nodded subtly before guiding her daughter toward the front door. Somehow, I got Leah into clean panties and a tshirt to sleep in. I did her laundry so she'd have clean clothes the next day, and then I started to peruse the internet on my laptop in my own bedroom searching about the symptoms Leah was displaying so I could find the best way to go about talking to her and getting her to gain the confidence she needs to eat and pee on her own. After a couple of hours of searching the Internet, I fell asleep. I woke up to the sound of muffled crying and rustling fabric. The clock read 4:37 AM. Frowning, I swung my legs out of bed and padded down the hallway, my bare feet silent on the hardwood floor. Leah's bedroom door stood ajar, the dim light from the hallway slicing across a soaked mattress and rumpled blankets. "Leah, baby, where are you?" I called to her first looking in the closet for her... an easy hiding place for a thirteen year old child that's scared. The only answer was a muffled sniffle from somewhere near the bed. I knelt down, my knees popping with the effort, and lifted the dust ruffle. There she was, curled into a tight ball beneath the bed frame, her tear-streaked face pressed against the hardwood floor. A puddle spread beneath her hips where she'd crawled away from the soaked sheets above. Her panties clung to her butt, dark with moisture. "Baby? Come on out. It's okay. Don't you remember? You have permission to wet your pants here. I don't care if you do it deliberately, or if it's an accident, you have permission, baby. Please come out. I don't want you sitting in soaked panties. It's going to hurt your pee pee place if you sit in them too long." Leah flinched at the words but didn't move, her body curled tight as a fist beneath the bed. The smell of urine clung to the air, sharp and sour, mixed with the metallic tang of fear-sweat. Her fingers dug into the hardwood, nails scraping faint grooves as she tried to press herself impossibly flatter against the floorboards. I sat down on the floor by the bed. "Leah. I am not moving from here until you come out. If that makes me pee my pants, then so be it. I'm not moving until you feel safe enough to move." The floorboards creaked beneath me as I shifted my weight. Leah's ragged breathing hitched, her fingers curling tighter against the wood. A fresh trickle of urine darkened the fabric between her legs, spreading across the floor in a slow, glistening arc. "You are allowed," I whispered to her. "Actually, just pee, baby. Just do it. That's permission. You have full permission to just pee, right now, then I want you to come out, okay?" Leah shuddered violently beneath the bed, her breath hitching in shallow gasps. The puddle beneath her widened as she finally released, her body sagging with the relief she'd been denying herself all night. Her fingers unclenched slowly from the floorboards, leaving behind faint crescent marks in the wood. "Now, you've had permission to pee, and you are already wet, will you please come out from under the bed? See? I don't have a belt anywhere near me." I was in my sleeping sweat pants and an old tshirt. Leah didn't move, but her breathing slowed slightly, her face still pressed against the damp spot on the floor. Her fingers uncurled slowly, twitching against the wood grain. The scent of urine hung thick in the air, mingling with the faint bleach smell from the mattress pad above her. "Well, then I sit here until you do, and I do have to pee, so I might have an accident, too, if you don't come out soon. I'm not moving until you feel safe enough to do so." The floorboards groaned as I shifted again, letting out an exaggerated sigh. Leah flinched but didn't retreat further, her wet pajama top clinging to her ribs with each shallow breath. A cockroach skittered along the baseboard near her face, she didn't even blink. I wiggled my legs exaggerated so she'd know I had to pee. "Just waiting for my baby," I whispered. "Even if I end up pissing my pants, her safety and her feelings come first." Leah shuddered beneath the bed frame, her fingers twitching against the floorboards. A fresh trickle escaped her, darkening the already soaked fabric between her legs. The scent of ammonia grew stronger, clinging to the underside of the bed frame where she'd pressed herself flat as possible. "Come on, baby. You need to come out now, if you don't want grandpa to pee his pants. If you want me to, then tell me to do it. Otherwise, it's just mean." A choked sob escaped Leah's throat, her fingers digging into the damp wood again. The puddle beneath her had spread wide enough that the edges touched my socked foot. I didn't pull away. The cockroach scurried up the wall, casting long shadows in the dim hallway light. "Baby? I can't hold it much longer. I'm telling you. I'm going to pee...." Leah's breath hitched. She uncurled slightly, her urine-soaked pajamas sticking to the floorboards as she shifted. Her fingers twitched toward me, then recoiled, as if expecting a strike. The cockroach skittered away into the darkness. My pants started to darken and I peed some. I didn't look mad though, but rather, just sad. "I guess you are too scared to let grandpa pee in the toilet, then?" Leah froze mid-sob, her wide eyes tracking the spreading wet patch on my sweatpants. The scent of fresh urine mixed with hers, soaking into the floorboards between us. Her breath hitched as she stared at the dampness creeping across my lap, an adult willingly humiliating himself to prove a point. I finally just started to pee and it went all over me. I sat there, sadly and just stared towards her. "I'm still not moving until you do. Your feelings matter, little one." Leah's breath stuttered as she watched the dark stain spread across my lap, her own wet clothes clinging coldly to her skin. A shudder ran through her small frame, her fingers digging into the damp floorboards again. The smell of urine filled the cramped space beneath the bed, thick and sharp, mingling with the scent of fear still radiating off her trembling body. "Can't you at least come and cheer up grandpa? I haven't peed my pants since junior high school." Leah's breath hitched again, her fingers flexing against the damp wood. A cockroach skittered across her wrist; this time, she flinched. Slowly, like a wounded animal testing its limbs, she uncurled one arm from beneath her chest. The movement sent a fresh trickle of urine pattering against the floorboards. She froze, waiting for my reaction. "Grandpa has already told you to pee your pants, baby. I know you're scared. I'm not hitting you for peeing. Look. Grandpa just did it. That would be... well, evil for me to hit you for something I can't even control." Leah's breath came in ragged bursts, her fingers curling against the damp floorboards again. The cockroach skittered over her knuckles, but she didn't pull away this time. Her gaze flickered between my soaked sweatpants and the wet spot beneath her own hips, her lips trembling. "Please come out, baby. I'm not moving until you feel safe to come and sit in grandpa's lap. We are both wet, so there's no problem with us wetting each other." Leah whimpered, pressing her forehead harder against the floorboards as if trying to disappear into them. Her soaked pajamas clung to her skin, dark patches spreading where fresh urine leaked out despite her desperate clenching. The smell was overwhelming now, sharp, acidic, mingling with the musty scent of dust and mildew beneath the bed. "Come on, baby. You can do it. You're a big girl. There's nothing scary out here. Just a pee pants grandpa that wants you in his lap. You can't come and comfort grandpa after I've had an accident? Please?" Leah let out a shuddering breath, her fingers twitching against the damp floorboards. The cockroach skittered over her wrist again, but she didn't flinch this time. Slowly, inch by inch, she uncurled from beneath the bed, her soaked pajama top clinging to her ribs as she moved. Her face was streaked with tears, her lower lip trembling as she finally met my gaze. "Good girl," I whispered. "Come and sit in Grandpa's lap. Please? We both need comforted right now, and I want you to finish peeing. I'm soaked, so you won't be hurting me by peeing on me." Leah hesitated, her wet socks sticking to the floorboards as she crawled forward. Her fingers trembled where they gripped the edge of the mattress, knuckles white. A fresh trickle darkened her pajama bottoms as she moved, the fabric clinging uncomfortably to her thighs. "Good girl," I reached over and reached under her arms to pull her fully into my lap. "Finish peeing your pants, please. Then we'll get you cleaned up, okay? No belts or hitting, I promise." Leah tensed at first, her thin frame trembling against mine as I settled her across my soaked sweatpants. Her damp panties clung to her skin, cold against my thighs. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she relaxed, just enough that a fresh trickle warmed both our laps. Her breath hitched again, waiting for punishment that never came. "Good baby," I whispered pulling her so I was hugging her against me waiting for her to further pee herself. "Good girl. No more holding it until it hurts, baby. Just pee." Leah shuddered against my chest, her damp pajama top soaking through my shirt. The scent of urine clung to us both, sharp, sour, mingling with the faint bleach smell from the mattress pad above. Slowly, her rigid muscles loosened, and warmth spread between us where she sat on my lap. Her breath hitched, waiting for reprimand, but I just rocked her gently. I brushed her hair to the side out of her eyes. "Look up at Grandpa's face, baby. Is this a mad face to you?" I tried to look as sad as possible. "I know you are having a hard time, that's why I was willing to wait, even though it meant I had to pee my pants to make sure you felt safe." Leah lifted her chin slowly, her green eyes darting across my expression like a rabbit assessing a predator. Her breath hitched when our gazes met, her fingers clutching the fabric of my shirt in tight fists. The warmth of her urine seeped through both our clothes, the wetness spreading between us in a slow, intimate puddle. "Good girl, now pee the rest out, so we can get you clean. You are first, in this house. Your comfort comes before mine, and once you are clean and eating breakfast, then Grandpa Jimmy will get comfortable." Leah let out a shaky breath, her body trembling as she finally released completely into my lap. The warmth spread quickly, soaking through both our clothes, pooling against my thighs where she sat. She whimpered softly, her fingers twisting in my shirt, but she didn't pull away. The scent of urine filled the small bedroom, thick and acrid, but beneath it lingered something else, something fragile and new. Trust. Or maybe just exhaustion. I picked her up patting her wet bottom. "See? No punishment, baby. Just getting clean, okay?" I went to the bathroom with her and even placed her on the toilet in her soaked panties. "If there is anything at all left, you pee, baby. You have permission." Then I went to adjust the shower again for another soft shower to make it easier and less painful for her. Leah sat rigidly on the toilet seat, her soaked underwear still clinging to her hips, fingers gripping the porcelain edges like a lifeline. The faucet dripped into the tub behind her, one slow plink every three seconds, the sound syncopating with her shallow breaths. Her knees pressed together so tightly they trembled, though whether from cold or fear, I couldn't tell. The bathroom mirror fogged with steam, erasing our reflections. "Okay, baby, the shower is ready. Come and let Grandpa take your wet things off. I know you are a big girl, but for a little while, in Grandpa's eyes, you are like an eight year old, okay? Someone that knows better than to pee herself, but who is just having some potty troubles, and someone that Grandpa can help more easily when she wets her pants. No shame." Leah's fingers twitched against the toilet seat, her damp hair sticking to her flushed cheeks. The shower spray hissed against the tile walls, filling the small bathroom with warm mist that softened the harsh overhead light. She didn't move, her soaked panties and shirt clinging uncomfortably to her skin, the elastic waistband digging into her stomach where she'd clenched all night. I walked over and lifted her from the potty. "I know," I whispered in her ear. "You're still scared. I know it's scary, but Grandpa doesn't hit. You are allowed to be wet sometimes as long as you come and get help right after you pee or as soon as you can after it happens, baby." Her breath hitched against my shoulder, her fingers twitching where they clutched my damp shirt. I eased her onto the bathmat, the warm steam curling around us both. Slowly, I peeled her soaked shirt up over her head, careful not to tug at the fresh welts across her shoulders. The fabric clung stubbornly to her skin, releasing with a damp sound that made her flinch. "Good baby," I whispered. "Good girl. Now, we take your panties off. I know it's embarrassing and scary, but remember, Grandpa sees an eight year old, not something to do things to, okay?" Leah flinched as my fingers brushed the elastic waistband of her soaked panties. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her knees pressing together so tightly I could see the tendons in her thighs. The warm shower spray filled the bathroom with steam that curled around us both, softening the harsh overhead light. I got in the shower with her. My sweats were already soaked from both her and myself, so it didn't matter. What mattered was she got clean and she felt safe. I started to gently wash her back. "You can wash your own pee pee place if you want, but be gentle, no scrubbing. Try not to tear your scabs and rash okay?" Leah's hands trembled as she reached down hesitantly, her fingers barely grazing the inflamed skin between her legs. The warm water sluiced over her knuckles, turning her fingertips pink. She flinched when the soap touched raw patches, her breath hitching in a silent sob. "Baby? Don't touch where it stings. Grandpa will help with that. It's not doing any good to touch there if it's too hard to actually clean, baby. Grandpa will only help where you need it, not everywhere, that's why you try to clean your pee pee place as much as you can, so Grandpa doesn't have to touch it too much or for too long." Leah's fingers jerked away from herself, trembling against her thighs as she nodded. Her shoulders hunched forward, water sluicing down her spine in thin rivulets that traced the old scars and fresh welts across her skin. The soap bubbled gently where I worked it across her shoulder blades, careful to avoid the worst of the abrasions. "Why don't you even pee when I tell you that you are allowed, giving you permission, honey? Has people done mean things with that permission to you?" Leah froze under the shower spray, her breath catching in a way that wasn't just about the water hitting her face. Her fingers dug into her thighs hard enough to leave pale crescents in the wet skin. The shampoo bottle slipped from my grip, thudding against the tub as I waited for any reaction, a flinch, a nod, anything. "I'm not trying to scold you, baby. I'm trying to find out how I can best help you see that it's safe to pee once I tell you to do so, and eventually, to just do it naturally." Leah stood rigid under the water, her wet hair plastered against her cheekbones like dark parentheses framing her silence. The shampoo bottle bobbed at our feet, swirling in the runoff that carried traces of urine down the drain. Her fingers twitched against her thighs, nails digging in again as if anchoring herself against some invisible current. "I see. You are still scared, of tricks or something else going wrong. It's okay. We can ask again later when you are more ready to trust. I knew this wouldn't be a one night fix, sweetheart. You're safe. Just try to work on coming near me when you're wet so I can take care of you. You don't have to say you did it, just come near so I can see it if I'm looking.... That's a good place to start." The shower spray softened Leah's sharp edges, her shoulder blades no longer jutted as much, her breathing slowed. She tilted her head slightly under the water, letting it wash the tears from her cheeks. I kept my hands above her waist, soap on her back, fingertips carefully avoiding bruises, while she tentatively scrubbed her own forearms. "This will sting a little," I warned her when I was ready. "But if I don't take care of it, it will sting worse when it causes the rash to open up more. I'd rather the stings be from healing than you getting more sick. And if you are healing, the stinging will eventually go away. Make sense, sweetie?" Leah nodded stiffly, her breath hitching as I gently cleaned the inflamed skin between her legs. Her fingers dug into my forearm, but she didn't pull away. The water turned pink in places as old scabs loosened, swirling down the drain with soap suds and strands of her dark hair. I got the baby girl clean and got medicine properly put on her including the medicine that Jennifer gave me from when Sarah had fallen with her bike a while back, and eventually had her dressed in panties and a shirt again. "I'll wait to put you in your pants and regular shirt they brought for you last night until we go shopping. We need to get you some new clothes and maybe some toys. Is it okay if I get you a few little girls' toys?" Leah sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, her fingers twisting in the hem of her oversized t-shirt, one of mine, clean but smelling faintly of mothballs. The antibiotic ointment gleamed on her knees where the rashes had cracked open. She didn't answer, just stared at the floor where the cockroach had disappeared into the baseboard earlier. "Well, as I said, I see you as an eight year old for now. It makes taking care of your owies easier and you peeing your pants a little easier. Once you get healthy and start taking care of yourself again, you'll get all of your teenager responsibilities and rights back, but until then, you need someone to help you with kid gloves." Leah's fingers curled tighter in the fabric of her borrowed shirt, her knuckles whitening. The morning light through the curtains caught the tracks of tears that had dried on her cheeks. She didn't look up when I placed a glass of milk and two peanut butter cookies on the nightstand. "I think it's time for breakfast. Are you hungry, baby?" Leah's stomach growled audibly before she could suppress it, her fingers twitching against the hem of her shirt. She kept her gaze locked on the peeling laminate floor where a water stain spread in the shape of an old continent. The scent of peanut butter lingered between us, mixing with the sharp tang of antiseptic ointment. "I'll get you some cereal to eat and orange juice, and after that, if you have room, you can have a couple of cookies. Does that sound good?" I picked her up to start to carry her to the kitchen. Leah stiffened in my arms, her breath hitching as her fingers curled into tight fists against my chest. The scent of the antiseptic ointment mingled with the faint urine still clinging to her skin despite the shower. She didn't struggle, but her body remained rigid, her bare legs dangling awkwardly as I adjusted my grip. I carefully put her in a chair and then went about getting her breakfast. "You can take as long as you need to heal... physically, mentally, and emotionally, baby. I'm here and on your side. I know you've been mistreated, and I hope that you see in time, that I'm not trying to do that to you." Leah's fingers trembled around the spoon as I placed the cereal bowl before her, milk sloshing against the rim. She stared at the floating flakes like they might bite, her shoulders hunched inward. The kitchen smelled of toast and antiseptic, the lingering scents of trauma and tentative care mingling in the morning air. "Actually, hold on a minute, baby," I told her. I ran to my room and changed my clothes so I'd be dry to sit on, and then I went back to the kitchen. "Come on, grandpa's lap, baby. We're going to make sure you eat, and you feel safe while you eat." Leah hesitated, her fingers twitching against the spoon. The cereal had gone soggy, milk pooling around the edges. Her gaze flickered from the bowl to my outstretched arms, then back again, uncertainty tightening her jawline. A drop of milk slid off her spoon and splattered onto the table between us. I smiled. "Still scared?" I picked her up and put her in my lap and then turning her so she sat facing off to one side of my lap, I started to spoon feed her. "Grandpa wants you to eat, baby. I know you ate your spaghetti last night, but I could see from you peeing in your chair last night, you were so scared that you started peeing while you ate. And that's okay. But you do need to eat." I coaxed the spoon to her mouth. Leah’s lips parted reluctantly, her breath uneven as warm milk dribbled down her chin. Her fingers clutched the fabric of my dry sweatpants, kneading nervously as she swallowed. The kitchen smelled of cinnamon from the toast I’d burned earlier, masking the faint medicinal scent still clinging to her skin. "That’s it," I murmured, scraping another spoonful from the bowl. "Slow and easy. Your stomach’s been empty too long." Leah swallowed mechanically, her throat working as if each bite required conscious effort. A fleck of cereal stuck to her lower lip, and I resisted the urge to wipe it away, letting her discover it herself. Her fingers kept twisting in my sweatpants, dampening the fabric with nervous sweat. The refrigerator hummed loudly in the quiet kitchen, the only sound besides her shallow breathing. "You're doing so good, sweetheart," I said, offering another spoonful. "Just a few more bites." Leah accepted the food with numb obedience, her green eyes fixed somewhere beyond my shoulder. A thin trickle of milk escaped the corner of her mouth, tracing a path down her chin before dripping onto the collar of my shirt. She didn't seem to notice, her body rigid as a mannequin except for the slight tremor in her fingers where they gripped my thigh. The spoon clinked against the bowl as I scraped the last few soggy flakes from the bottom. Outside, a car door slammed, Jennifer arriving for Sarah's forgotten lunchbox. Leah flinched violently at the sound, her elbow jerking sideways and knocking the glass of orange juice over. The liquid spread across the table in a slow, sticky pool, dripping onto the linoleum with soft plinking sounds. "The door is open!" I called out when the doorbell rang. "I'm in the kitchen feeding my baby!" Leah flinched again at my raised voice, her fingers digging into my thigh hard enough to leave bruises. The spilled juice crept toward the table's edge in viscous rivulets, one fat droplet splattering onto her bare foot. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her shoulders hunching inward as Jennifer's footsteps approached down the hallway. I looked up at her not even thinking the thirteen in my lap with a spoon in my hand hovered by her mouth needed any explanation after what she had seen the night before. "What? Did someone forget something?" I asked. Jennifer paused in the kitchen doorway, her gaze flickering from the overturned juice glass to Leah curled rigidly in my lap, milk drying on her chin. She held up Sarah's lunchbox wordlessly, the pink thermos clinking inside. The silence stretched just a beat too long before she cleared her throat. "Sarah insisted I check on Leah before school. Said she'd been dreaming about... belts." "The baby wet the bed and got really scared, but as you can see, she's let me feed her breakfast and give her a bath this morning. She's okay. You give your daughter three cookies for me. She really was a big help last night in breaking the ice this morning with my little one. It took some work, but I think a few more days of trust exercise, she might be okay coming to me with her wet pants at the very least." Leah shrank against my chest as Jennifer stepped closer, her fingers twisting in my shirt like a child half her age would. The spilled juice dripped steadily onto the floor now, forming sticky puddles around our feet. Jennifer set the lunchbox on the counter with deliberate slowness, her eyes never leaving Leah's hunched form. "Loud noises caused her to spill her juice," I chuckled. "She's learning, but it's not something that will be taught in one day, what safety and trust look like." Jennifer nodded slowly, watching as Leah curled tighter into my chest, her damp hair clinging to her flushed cheeks. The scent of orange juice mixed with antiseptic and peanut butter cookies, an odd combination that somehow felt appropriate for this fractured morning. "Well, thank Sarah for me and make sure she takes three peanut butter cookies with her for lunch today. She's more than earned it." Jennifer hesitated in the doorway, her fingers tapping absently against the lunchbox strap. "Jim... are you sure you don't want me to stay? Just for an hour or two?" "Your daughter needs her lunch, and I'm going to be taking my baby clothing shopping in a bit. She needs clothes because I can't keep begging church friends for their own things." I chuckled. "Besides, I don't trust anyone as much as I do your daughter, as far as making fun of Leah." Jennifer sighed, adjusting the lunchbox strap on her shoulder. "Sarah cried on the way home last night. Kept saying Leah's bruises looked like... well, you know." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Like someone used a belt buckle." "Someone did," I sighed. "I got a better look at it this morning when I showered her again. She's been beaten so bad, and even permission seems tricky. I gave her permission to pee this morning, but even so, she peed a bunch, but it didn't all come out. Someone has played some sick games with this kid's mind." Leah whimpered against my chest, her fingers tightening in my shirt. Jennifer's eyes flickered to the darkening bruises visible beneath Leah's oversized sleeve. The spilled juice pooled around the chair legs, reflecting the overhead light in fractured orange shards. "You tell Sarah she's allowed to come and check on Leah anytime that her mom says she can come. It's an open invitation unless my car is gone because that means I've taken Leah to work with me, or I've taken her somewhere to make her safe, healthy, or happy." Jennifer nodded, her fingers tightening around the lunchbox strap. The refrigerator cycled on with a hum that made Leah flinch again, her damp hair brushing my chin as she pressed closer. Jennifer hesitated before speaking. "Sarah drew Leah a picture last night. Should I, " she glanced at Leah's hunched form, "leave it with you?" "You can give it to her, or it might be better if your daughter gives it to her, so she makes the connection, visually, who made it for her." Jennifer reached into the lunchbox and pulled out a folded sheet of notebook paper, edges slightly crumpled. The paper rustled as she extended it toward Leah, who remained rigid in my lap, her breathing shallow. The drawing depicted two stick figures holding hands under a rainbow, the taller one with green scribbled eyes, clearly meant to be me, and the smaller one with a lopsided smile. Below, in Sarah's uneven handwriting: "You're safe here." "How well do you read, Leah, honey? Not a trick, just a question. Your friend wrote you a note." Leah's fingers twitched toward the folded paper, then retreated back to clutching my shirt. Her breathing hitched as Jennifer held the drawing closer, the crayon rainbow blurring behind the slight tremor in the woman's hand. A drop of orange juice plinked onto the paper's edge, spreading through the fibers in a slow stain that darkened the rainbow's purple stripe. "You are safe with Grandpa," I told Leah. "But I have a feeling she's going to make sure school is safe for you, too, once you start back. That's not today though. You need clothes and other things before you can start school again." Jennifer knelt slowly, placing the drawing on the table beside Leah's clenched fist. The crayon rainbow blurred where juice droplets had smudged the paper. Leah's breathing hitched, her fingers twitching toward but not quite touching the soggy corner. The refrigerator hummed loudly in the heavy silence. I moved the paper into Leah's hand. "It's yours, baby. Sarah wrote this for you." Leah's fingers closed around the damp paper slowly, as if expecting it to burn. The crayon rainbow smeared where her thumb pressed too hard, blending colors into a muddy streak. She didn't unfold it fully, just stared at the crumpled edge where Sarah had written her name in lopsided cursive. I smiled. "I think she gets the message. She's still learning trust though, so don't let Sarah give up on their friendship, if that's what Sarah wants." Jennifer nodded, standing slowly as Leah clutched the damp drawing like a lifeline. Her fingers trembled against the smudged crayon, tracing Sarah's uneven handwriting with hesitant curiosity. The juice puddle spread silently across the linoleum, creeping toward the baseboard where that cockroach had disappeared earlier. "I'll tell Sarah to come by after school," Jennifer murmured, backing toward the door. "If that's alright with Leah." "You tell her to come on buy. Leah's not in any condition to have opinions yet. She's still fighting demons that allowed her to freely even pee the bed when it's too much for her body. Until she can freely pee the bed, she's going to need decisions made for her." Jennifer paused at the doorway, her gaze lingering on Leah's trembling hands clutching the soggy drawing. The orange juice had reached the baseboard now, seeping into the crack where the roach had vanished. Leah's bare toes curled against my thigh, her breathing uneven as she stared at the blurred crayon lines. "She's scared it's a trick," I whispered. "People have played really sick games with her. Like I said, I gave her permission to pee this morning when I knew she was already wetting herself under her bed no less because she was scared she had peed in it without permission, and then when I told her to pee, she eventually peed... but not all of it. It's like she didn't trust letting it all out. It took a lot of coaxing to get her to finally relieve herself." Jennifer frowned as Leah pressed the crumpled drawing against her chest, her fingers shaking against the damp paper. The refrigerator hummed louder, cycling cold air that made goosebumps rise on Leah's bare arms. Her breath hitched when Jennifer took a step closer, the lunchbox strap creaking under her grip. "She just needs patience. That's all we can do. Let her know it's okay, she is loved, and let her have the space to grow and experience her new environment for herself." Jennifer hesitated, her fingers tightening around the strap of Sarah's lunchbox. The drawing crinkled slightly as Leah's grip shifted, pressing the damp paper harder against her collarbone. Her knuckles whitened around the edges, her shoulders tense beneath the oversized shirt. The refrigerator's hum filled the silence between us, punctuated only by the slow drip of juice from the table's edge. "I'll tell Sarah to bring her colored pencils next time," Jennifer murmured. "Maybe they can... draw together." "That sounds like a good idea, but I have a strange request of your daughter? Another one. I'm going to get this little one some toys, some toys for littler kids.... Would your daughter be okay with with her and normalize her playing with little kid toys, you know, until Leah is ready to grow up a bit? I don't mean at her house or in front of her friends, but just with Leah, here, so Leah can see she has a friend that doesn't judge her?" Leah's fingers tightened around the crumpled drawing, her breath catching as Jennifer shifted her weight near the doorway. A faint tremor ran through her shoulders, the oversized shirt slipping down one arm to reveal the edge of a bruise. The scent of peanut butter lingered between us, mixing with the sharp tang of spilled juice soaking into the floorboards. Jennifer's expression softened as she adjusted Sarah's lunchbox strap. "Sarah still sleeps with her old teddy when she's sick. She won't judge." Her gaze flickered to Leah's white-knuckled grip on the drawing. "I'll pack some of her old dolls too, the ones she outgrew but couldn't bear to donate." "They will be her little secret with us. And will be her dolls even if she's letting Leah hold them for her. I'm sure Leah understands sharing and what lending means." Leah's fingers twitched against the drawing, her thumbnail scratching at a smudged crayon line. The paper had begun to dry in wrinkled peaks, Sarah's handwriting warping where juice had soaked through. Jennifer nodded, backing toward the hallway with Sarah's lunchbox thumping gently against her hip. "I'll send Sarah with her old tea set too," Jennifer said, pausing at the doorway. "The plastic one she used to, " Her voice cut off as Leah suddenly jerked upright in my lap, the drawing crumpling further in her grip. Her breath came in sharp bursts, eyes darting between Jennifer and the hallway beyond like a cornered animal assessing escape routes. "What is it, baby? If you need permission, pee, baby. But if that's not it, what is it? It's okay, baby." Leah's breathing hitched, her fingers tightening around the crumpled drawing until the paper tore slightly along one folded edge. Her gaze darted between Jennifer and the open doorway, her bare toes curling against my thigh. The scent of spilled juice grew stronger as it seeped into the cracks of the linoleum, mixing with the lingering peanut butter and antiseptic. "Did someone come with you?" I asked Jennifer. "I think she's scared of something in the hallway." Jennifer shook her head, but Leah suddenly twisted in my lap, her fingers digging into my forearm as she stared past the doorway with wide, panicked eyes. The torn drawing fluttered to the floor, landing in the juice puddle with a wet slap. I lifted her up and started to carry her. "Let's go see Miss Jenny out and make sure no one is out there, okay?" Leah clutched my neck like a vise, her breath coming in shallow gasps against my collar. The hallway stretched empty before us, morning sunlight filtering through the blinds to stripe the carpet with alternating bands of light and shadow. Jennifer followed close behind, her shoes squeaking on juice-slick linoleum. "See? Nothing there, sweetheart," I murmured, bouncing Leah gently in my arms. Her legs locked around my waist, her entire body rigid with tension. A bead of sweat traced down her temple, disappearing into the damp hair clinging to her cheek. I shook my head at Jennifer. "Actually, now she's scared, are you still willing to stay a couple of hours? I need a shower, and I don't trust leaving her alone to play when she's so scared." Leah trembled against me, her fingers cold where they dug into my shoulders. The hallway smelled faintly of lemon cleaner and something metallic, probably the old pipes groaning behind the walls. Jennifer set Sarah's lunchbox down carefully, her gaze lingering on Leah's wide, darting eyes. "I am not sure if it was something said something she saw or heard, or what it is, but she's acting off, and it was just as were were talking about Sarah coming to play with her. I think it started when you said something about a tea set your daughter has." Jennifer moved toward the kitchen sink, washing her hands with deliberate slowness. The water hissed against her palms as she glanced at Leah still rigid in my arms. "Sarah had a pink plastic tea set when she was six. Used to force me to attend her imaginary garden parties." Her voice softened. "Leah, honey, did you have a tea set too?" Leah's breath hitched, her fingers spasming against my neck. A drop of sweat slid down her spine beneath the oversized shirt. I adjusted my grip, feeling her ribs expand in shallow, panicked bursts against my forearm. The hallway clock ticked loudly in the sudden silence. Jennifer turned off the faucet with excessive care, water dripping onto juice-stained linoleum. "Sarah's tea set had little daisies painted on the cups," she continued, drying her hands on a dish towel. "One went missing after, " Her sentence died as Leah suddenly buried her face against my shoulder with a muffled whimper. The torn drawing lay forgotten in the juice puddle, crayon daisies bleeding purple into the fibers. "What happened, baby?" I asked. "Did someone take it away from you? Did someone tease you with it, saying it was yours but never giving it to you? What is it, baby?" Leah shuddered violently in my arms, her breathing ragged against my neck. Jennifer moved closer, her footsteps deliberately slow, stopping just out of arm's reach. The torn drawing lay forgotten in the orange juice puddle, crayon daisies dissolving into the fibers. "Yeah, definitely leave the tea set for later. She's not in the mood to tell us, and I don't want to traumatize her more by having it show up and finding out it was a source of torture for her." Jennifer nodded, her fingers twisting the dish towel into a tight spiral. Leah's breathing slowed fractionally against my shoulder, though her fingers still dug into my skin with bruising force. The hallway clock ticked three times before Jennifer exhaled sharply. "I'll just... stay until she settles. Sarah can manage lunch without me today." "I just need a shower, at least, and then I'll let you go after that if she's not ready by then. Sweetheart? Can Auntie Jenny hold you just for a little while. You have permission to pee, even if it comes out accidentally on Auntie. We'll let Auntie put a towel or something down to protect her clothes, okay?" Leah's grip tightened around my neck, her nails biting crescents into my skin. Her breath hitched against my collarbone, damp and uneven. Jennifer moved cautiously, draping a dish towel over her shoulder like a makeshift bib. The scent of orange juice rose sharply from the puddle still spreading across the floorboards. "Well, seems she might be trusting me...," I smiled. "She's at least clinging to me. But I really need a shower." I rubbed her back. "Grandpa will just be in the bathroom about twenty minutes. What if we set a timer, and whether Grandpa's ready or not, you can come in and check on Grandpa in the bathroom then?" Leah's breathing stuttered, her fingers loosening slightly but still tangled in my collar. The torn drawing lay forgotten in the orange juice puddle, Sarah's crayon daisies bleeding purple into the fibers. Jennifer hovered nearby, dish towel still draped over her shoulder, her eyes darting between Leah's hunched form and the hallway clock. "Set the kitchen timer for twenty-five," I told Jennifer. "Then when it rings, whether I'm out or not, let her come and check the bathroom. Being a teen, she's only going to open it long enough to make sure I'm there, and if I'm still naked, I'm sure she'll leave immediately." Jennifer nodded, reaching for the plastic kitchen timer shaped like a strawberry. The click of her turning the dial made Leah flinch against me, her damp forehead pressing into the hollow of my throat. I shifted her weight slightly, feeling the tremor running through her thin frame. The scent of peanut butter clung stubbornly to her hair despite the earlier shower. I nodded at the cookies. "Take a cookie, Miss Jenny." Then I made sure Leah could see the cookie as I presented her to Jenny to eventually get her off of me so I could go shower. "I'll be right back, promise. When that timer goes off you can come and check on Grandpa, sweetie." Leah whimpered but allowed Jennifer to take her, her fingers reluctantly releasing my shirt. As Jennifer settled her against the dish towel padding, Leah's body remained stiff as a board, her gaze locked on the strawberry timer ticking down on the counter. The torn drawing lay abandoned in the juice puddle, the crayon daisies now completely dissolved into orange-stained pulp. I rushed the shower not wanting to traumatize my kid anymore, and was dressed in clean clothes in record time, for me. About 18 minutes. Then I walked out and towards them. Leah sat rigid on Jennifer's lap, her fingers twisted in the dish towel draped over Jennifer's shoulder. The strawberry timer ticked ominously in the background, down to its last two minutes. Leah's eyes darted between the timer and the hallway where I'd disappeared, her breath shallow. A faint tremor ran through her legs where they dangled over Jennifer's knee. Jennifer held her gently but firmly, one hand rubbing slow circles on Leah's back. "He'll be back soon," Jennifer murmured, nodding toward the timer. "See? Almost time." Leah's fingers spasmed against the dish towel, her knuckles whitening with tension. The timer ticked once, twice, then exploded into shrill beeping. Leah jerked upright so violently she nearly toppled off Jennifer's lap, her panicked gaze snapping toward the hallway just as I stepped into view. "How has my baby been?" I asked. Leah launched herself off Jennifer's lap with surprising force, her bare feet slapping against juice-sticky linoleum as she barreled toward me. She collided with my stomach hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs, her arms locking around my waist like a vise. The strawberry timer continued shrieking on the counter until Jennifer silenced it with a practiced flick of her wrist. I picked her up. "See? Grandpa's back. I just needed a shower, sweetie." Leah clung to my neck, her breath hot and uneven against my collarbone. The dish towel Jennifer had been using slipped to the floor, landing in the juice puddle with a wet plop. Leah's fingers trembled where they gripped the back of my shirt, her nails digging crescents through the fabric. Jennifer stood slowly, her jeans smeared with orange juice where Leah had been sitting. "I think she needs to see the bathroom now," I murmured, adjusting Leah's weight against my hip. Her legs locked around my waist automatically, her entire body thrumming with tension. The hallway smelled faintly of bleach and damp towels, the shower's steam still clinging to my skin. Jennifer followed silently as I carried Leah toward the bathroom, her footsteps careful on the sticky floor. The door stood slightly ajar, just as I'd left it. Leah's breathing hitched when I nudged it open wider with my elbow, revealing the damp shower curtain and my discarded clothes in the hamper. "See? Just like I said," I murmured, bouncing her gently. Her fingers loosened slightly around my neck as she peered inside, her gaze darting from the sink to the still-dripping showerhead. The scent of my soap lingered, something plain and unscented, the kind that wouldn't overwhelm sensitive noses. Jennifer hovered in the doorway, her arms crossed loosely. "She okay?" "I'll see...," I tried to give her space to try again. "Leah, the potty is over there. You have a choice. Pee your pants or pee in the potty, but Grandpa wants you to pee, if you can, honey. Permission to pee is granted." Leah's grip tightened around my neck, her legs squeezing my waist like a frightened koala. Her breath came in short, shallow bursts against my shoulder, the scent of peanut butter and orange juice still clinging to her hair. Jennifer hovered nearby, her hands clasped loosely in front of her, careful not to crowd us. "You want Grandpa to sit you on the toilet?" I asked Leah. Her fingers twitched against my neck, not a yes, not a no, just the faintest flutter of hesitation. The bathroom tiles felt cool beneath my bare feet as I adjusted her weight against my hip. Jennifer leaned against the doorframe, her shadow stretching across the damp bathmat. "Well, you need to pee, baby. It can be in your panties which is why you are not in jeans yet, or it can be in the toilet with no panties. I need to know before you give up and start leaking. That's always scary for you when it goes before you know you are allowed, honey." Leah's breath hitched, her fingers tightening briefly before loosening, the barest hint of permission. I moved toward the toilet, shifting her weight carefully. The seat was cold beneath my palm as I lowered it. Jennifer lingered in the doorway, her gaze flicking between Leah's rigid form and my hands as I positioned her over the bowl. "Panties up or down, baby. If you want me to pull them down, relax so I can get them down your legs. If you want them up, stay tense until I get you on the potty. Permission to pee even if you pee your pants, baby." Leah's entire body locked tight as I lowered her toward the toilet seat, her fingers digging into my shoulders hard enough to bruise. Her thighs pressed together rigidly, knees clamped shut despite the gap between her and the porcelain. The scent of peanut butter clung stubbornly to her hair, mingling with the antiseptic soap lingering in the steamy bathroom air. "Grandpa is staying right here, baby. Pee in your panties it is. No worries. But I want you to pee. No more waiting until it hurts, baby." Leah trembled violently in my arms, her breath coming in ragged gasps against my neck. A warm wetness spread against my forearm where her thighs pressed together, the fabric of her borrowed panties darkening slowly. Jennifer exhaled softly from the doorway, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. The scent of urine mixed with orange juice and peanut butter, strangely domestic despite the tension vibrating through Leah's frame. I picked her right back up and held her. "Keep peeing. It's okay. You're not ready for the toilet then." Leah's body remained stiff, but the warm trickle against my forearm continued. Her breathing hitched with each small release, as if every involuntary spurt frightened her anew. Jennifer stepped closer, her shadow falling across the damp bathmat as she reached for a clean towel from the rack. The scent of urine mingled with the lingering steam, turning the air thick and humid between us. "Keep peeing, baby. Grandpa wants it out of your body, even if it's in your panties. No one gets mad for peeing anymore, baby." Leah shuddered against me, her fingers twisting in the fabric of my shirt as she wet herself fully now, the warmth spreading down her legs and soaking into my pants where she pressed against me. The scent of urine mixed sharply with the orange juice still clinging to her skin. Jennifer draped the clean towel over my shoulder without comment, her fingers lingering briefly on Leah's trembling back. "You see how bad this is, don't you? The child is scared of the toilet. I'm starting to think that." Jennifer's fingers tightened on Leah's shoulder as she nodded, her eyes tracking the dark stain spreading down Leah's legs. The bathroom tiles felt slick beneath my feet as I shifted our weight, the warmth seeping through my clothes where Leah clung to me. Her breathing came in ragged bursts against my neck, each exhale trembling like a leaf in a storm. "You go ahead and pee your pants for a while," I told Leah. "Do it deliberately, if you need to, just don't keep holding it past it hurting. Please. Most important thing right now, is you don't hurt your body. Right, Miss Jenny?" Jennifer nodded, pressing a damp washcloth into my hand. The cool fabric steamed slightly against Leah's flushed skin as I dabbed at her damp thighs. She flinched but didn't pull away, her fingers twitching against my collarbone. The scent of urine mixed with citrus soap as Jennifer ran fresh water in the sink, the pipes groaning behind the walls. "Sarah wet the bed until she was nine," Jennifer said abruptly, wringing out another washcloth. The water splashed loudly in the basin. "After her father left. We kept a stack of towels by her bed and never mentioned it mornings." Her gaze flicked to Leah's averted face. "Some things take time." "I never knew she peed the bed," I whispered. "I knew she was always scared of me coming to her room, but I thought it was just a getting big girl thing." Jennifer's lips pressed into a thin line as she wrung out the washcloth. The water dripped steadily into the sink, each droplet echoing in the humid bathroom. Leah remained rigid against me, her damp thighs cooling where the wet fabric clung to my arms. The scent of urine mixed with peanut butter cookies still lingering from breakfast. "You know, when she was around ten, and I sometimes babysat, and I had to check on her if she was in bed when she was supposed to be, she'd hurry and yell that she was in bed and don't come in. I never did, of course because I was afraid she might be in just her panties. She was a good girl, so there was no reason for me to check any more than that she was in her room when you said it was her bedtime." Jennifer chuckled softly, twisting the damp washcloth between her fingers. "Yeah, she'd change into pajamas so fast those nights. Had a whole routine, lights off, clothes under the pillow before you even hit the hallway." The pipes gurgled as she turned off the faucet, the silence stretching between us until Leah shifted slightly in my arms. "Don't need to tell her you told me she kept wetting the bed. It's not anything that really matters anymore, and I don't want to embarrass her." Jennifer nodded, smoothing Leah's damp hair back from her forehead. Leah flinched at the contact but didn't pull away, her fingers still twisted tightly in my shirt. The bathroom light flickered overhead, casting wavering shadows across the tiles where orange juice and urine had pooled near the baseboard. "Let me change you, baby. We need to get you some clothes and toys. So, a quick cleaning and then we go?" Leah stiffened again as Jennifer handed me the damp washcloth. I wiped her legs carefully, feeling the tension humming through her thin frame. Her breathing hitched when I reached the waistband of her soaked panties, but she didn't resist as I peeled them down. Jennifer turned away to rummage in the linen closet, giving us privacy while producing a folded towel with exaggerated nonchalance. The bathroom smelled sharply of ammonia now, cutting through the lingering citrus and peanut butter. Leah trembled violently when I lifted her onto the countertop, her fingers scrabbling against the porcelain as I draped the towel across her lap. Her knees were mottled red where she'd clamped them together for so long. Jennifer handed me a fresh pair of Sarah's old panties, cotton, with faded rainbows along the waistband. "These might be loose," she murmured, pressing them into my palm. Leah's gaze locked onto them with sudden intensity, her breath hitching. "It's okay, we still have that pair of jeans from last night you brought. Those will help hold them up on her. I had her in just panties for a reason... so we would have some clean clothes for her when we went shopping. No young teen wants people to see them wet, even if they can't help doing it." Leah's fingers twitched toward the rainbow underwear, her knuckles brushing against my palm before jerking back. Jennifer's lips pressed into a thin line as she turned to rummage through the linen closet again. The scent of fabric softener drifted out as she pulled out a pair of Sarah's old jeans, the knees worn thin from years of play. "Legs up, baby," I murmured, holding the jeans open. Leah's toes curled against the counter's edge, her thighs trembling as she lifted them just enough for me to slide the denim over her damp skin. The waistband gaped loosely around her narrow hips, and I had to roll the cuffs twice before her toes peeked out. Jennifer handed me a length of twine from the junk drawer without comment, her eyes tracking Leah's flinch when I looped it through the belt loops. "Shit, I forgot," I saw the way Leah flinched and tracked the twine and I immediately pulled it out of her loops. "Your daughter said her wrists were tied last night. No, no string on baby's clothes. There has to be something less restraining..." I thought. "Oh, right, um, get me some scissors and a button from the old kit. I'll just make a button that we can tighten this with." Jennifer hesitated, her fingers twitching toward Leah's wrist where faint rope burns still marked the skin. The bathroom light buzzed overhead as she rummaged through the medicine cabinet, producing a small sewing kit with trembling hands. Leah's breathing turned shallow as I threaded a needle, her gaze locked on the sharp point glinting in the fluorescent light. "This needle isn't for your skin," I told baby. "We're making a button for your clothing so it will stay tighter on you without a string or belt. You don't like strings or belts, right?" Leah's pupils dilated as she watched the needle pierce the denim, her breath coming in short bursts through parted lips. The scent of urine and antiseptic clung stubbornly to her skin despite the fresh clothes. Jennifer's fingers twitched near the sewing kit as I stitched the button into place, the thread pulling taut through the fabric. The scissors gleamed dangerously on the counter's edge, and Leah flinched each time they shifted. Eventually, we got her a button fashioned that let me button her clothing at her hips to tighten them up so it wasn't too loose on her. Then I put the sharp things away. "Better, Leah?" I asked hugging her. Leah blinked slowly, her fingers ghosting over the button at her hip where it held the jeans snug against her waist. Her breathing had evened out, though her shoulders remained hunched forward as if expecting a blow. Jennifer exhaled through her nose and nudged the sewing kit further back on the counter, out of Leah's line of sight. "Someone has really done a number on you, child, and eventually you are going to have to get used to seeing string and belts again, but for now, no dangerous things in your mind until you are at least safe enough you can pee your pants without flinching." The button on Leah's jeans caught the fluorescent light as she shifted her weight on the counter, her toes curling against the porcelain edge. Jennifer leaned in to adjust the rolled cuffs, her fingers careful not to linger too long near Leah's ankles where old bruises still faded. The scent of fabric softener mixed uneasily with lingering urine and orange juice. "She's going to need a lot more care than I realized. You... you have to work today though, right?" I asked Jennifer. Jennifer hesitated, glancing at her watch. "I called in late already, " she admitted, smoothing Sarah's old jeans where they pooled around Leah's ankles. The fabric bunched over Leah's scuffed sneakers, still damp from the juice spill. "But I can't push it past nine. Sarah has school, and, " she lowered her voice, "they're strict about attendance with her IEP." "I didn't know your daughter had an IEP. But if you are just taking your daughter to school, then you could join us for shopping. I was more worried about work. The clothing shops don't open before ten anyway, so if you take your children to school first, that's not a problem." Jennifer hesitated, glancing at Leah's trembling fingers still clutching my shirt. "Sarah's bus comes at seven forty-five," she murmured. The bathroom clock ticked loudly in the silence, its hands creeping toward seven-ten. Leah's breathing hitched when Jennifer moved toward the door, her footsteps echoing on the tile. "Oh, well, I do understand that. So you go home and get your kids off to school, and then I'll meet you at your place at ten, and we can go shopping after that, unless you had other plans." Jennifer hesitated in the doorway, her fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against the frame. The scent of orange juice had faded beneath the sharper odors of urine and antiseptic, but Leah still clung to me like a lifeline, her breath warm against my neck. The bathroom mirror fogged over with residual steam, obscuring our reflections into vague smudges of color. "I can leave Sarah's car seat," Jennifer offered abruptly, digging her keys from her pocket. The metal jingled loudly, making Leah flinch against me. "If... if you need to take her anywhere before I get back." Her gaze flicked to Leah's button-secured jeans, then away just as quickly. "I didn't know thirteen year old kids needed car seats though. CPS didn't even ask if I had one." Jennifer blinked, her fingers tightening around the keys. "Oh, no, I meant for..." She gestured vaguely toward Leah's slight frame curled against me, her jeans swallowing her narrow hips. The unspoken implication hung between us, Leah looked so much smaller than her age, drowning in borrowed clothes. "Right, but CPS knows she's thirteen, and it's in her records. I'm not going to publicly humiliate her for no reason. She's already having enough problems, but if it turns out she needs one, then I'd be happy to get it. Just don't want to... you know... add to what's already keeping her from being healthy and confident." Jennifer's keys jingled softly as she nodded, tucking them back into her pocket. Leah's fingers loosened slightly against my shirt, her damp forehead pressing into the curve of my neck. The scent of fabric softener clung stubbornly to Sarah's old jeans, mixing with the lingering traces of peanut butter on Leah's breath. "You're right," Jennifer murmured, smoothing a hand over Leah's tangled hair. "I wasn't thinking." Her gaze flicked to the clock again, its minute hand jerking forward with an audible click. "I'll get Sarah ready and come back by ten. Text if you need anything sooner." "I will, but I'm sure we'll be okay for about three hours." Jennifer hesitated before nodding, her fingers lingering on the doorframe. The silence stretched thick between us, broken only by Leah's shallow breaths against my shoulder. Finally, Jennifer stepped back, her sneakers squeaking on the damp tiles. "I'll bring Sarah's old coloring books," she offered softly. "The ones with the thick pages." "That might help if things get overwhelming for her, for sure." I nodded in agreement. "And no judgment on the carseat idea. I do understand where you were thinking because she does look a little younger the way she is dressed right now, but still, for her confidence, I'm not getting her a seat unless she really needs it." Jennifer smiled softly as she glanced at Leah one last time, her fingers lingering on the light switch. The fluorescent bulb buzzed above us, casting sharp shadows across Leah's hollowed cheeks. "I'll see you at ten then," Jennifer murmured before stepping into the hallway. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving us in the humid bathroom with its mingled scents of urine and citrus. I took Leah to the living room and flipped on cartoons for her. "Let's watch a little TV. Tomorrow, you'll get to see where Grandpa works." Leah stayed curled against my chest, her damp jeans absorbing into my shirt. The couch springs creaked under our combined weight as I reached for the remote. The television flickered to life with exaggerated brightness, casting blue shadows across Leah's hollowed cheekbones. A cartoon mouse in overalls danced across the screen, his squeaky voice echoing too loudly in the quiet room. "Volume down," I muttered, fumbling with the buttons. Leah flinched when the remote beeped, her fingers digging into my forearm. The scent of fabric softener and lingering urine clung to her clothes, mixing with the stale popcorn odor embedded in the couch cushions. Smelling how much she still had piss stench in her, I realized I was going to have to do something, and right now, I was scared to give her a real bath because of her skin. I shook my head. The only thing I could think of, was at work, asking a real nurse the best way to take care of this. So, called hoping I could speak with one of the nurses briefly. They had to deal with elderly smells and skin conditions all the time, so they must know something that would help me give her a bath without irritating her rash. "Hey Jim," Nurse Linda answered after two rings, her voice crisp with morning efficiency. I could hear the clatter of medication carts in the background. "You coming in today? We're short-staffed." "Sorry, I really can't. I just got a kid from Social Services last night, but she's in terrible shape. I've already tried to give her a soft shower twice to clean her up, but she's been made to sit in filth for so long that the soft shower isn't doing it but she's got a bad rash where she pees at that I don't want to irritate in a full bath, and on top of that, she's got abusive marks all over her, and she's.... she's not going to stop wetting herself any time soon. So... my question. How can I bathe her so she doesn't stink but it also doesn't hurt her rashes, bruises and blisters?" The line crackled with silence before Linda exhaled sharply. "Christ, Jim. Okay, first, don't use soap on the raw areas. Get those no-rinse cleansing cloths from the pharmacy, the kind for bedbound patients." Her voice dropped as she moved away from background noise. "Second, mix warm water with a capful of vinegar, just enough to cut the ammonia smell without stinging. Pat, don't rub. And for God’s sake, keep her hydrated, retention makes urine more corrosive." "I'm already trying to make sure she drinks lots of milk because I don't trust her to eat enough food yet. She's thin as bones. But more drinks. There is a problem though. Even if I keep her hydrated, even with permission to piss her pants, she still holds it like... it's a sin to let it out, and won't even sit on the toilet unless put there, and acts like it's a bomb when you do put here there." Linda sighed through the phone, the sound muffled like she'd pressed it against her shoulder. A drawer slid open in the background. "Classic punishment conditioning. Get puppy pads or waterproof sheets for now, less laundry stress means less pressure on her." The drawer slammed shut. "And Jim? Skip the milk if she's lactose intolerant. Diluted juice works better for hydration without triggering diarrhea on top of everything." "I think we lucked out on the lactose thing. She's had plenty of milk since last night and no pooping since earlier in the day before I met her.... that also went in her panties." Linda muttered something about 'Jesus Christ' under her breath before continuing, "Alright, stick with milk then, but watch for bloating. Now listen, " Her voice sharpened as medical equipment beeped loudly behind her. "Get zinc oxide cream for the rash, thick as frosting. And Jim? Don't let her see you wince when you smell her. Kids notice." "Well, you know smells don't bother me anymore, working around the older people. The real reason I'm worried about her smell is CPS can be tricky and they'll yank her if there is even a hint I'm not taking care of her right, and yet, they let this stuff happen to her for who knows how long, and also, when she starts school. She's going to piss herself at school. That can't be helped, but the less she smells the more accepting of her the other kids can be." The cartoon mouse squeaked loudly as Leah shifted against me, her damp jeans pressing uncomfortably against my thigh. Linda made a thoughtful humming noise. "School's gonna be rough," she admitted. "But you're right about CPS, document everything. Take photos of her rashes today before you treat them." "Damn! Pictures. I have been watching her since last night, and saw her bruises and evidience of whippings but didn't think to get pictures. I do have a witness, though, a good church friend that brought some clothes for her because they didn't even send her to my house with clean clothes. Just the messy ones she had on from at least mid school day." Leah stiffened at the word 'pictures', her nails biting into my forearm through my sleeve. The cartoon mouse froze mid-dance as I muted the TV, the sudden silence pressing against my eardrums. Linda coughed on the other end of the line, the sound muffled like she'd turned away from the receiver. I patted Leah's arm. "I'm sorry, baby. I should have known pictures might be scary. We have to though, so we can keep you away from people like those who had you just before yesterday." Leah shook against me, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts. The remote slipped from my grasp and thudded onto the carpet. Linda's voice crackled through the phone, "Jim? You still there?" "Yeah. My baby is visibly panicking. As soon as pictures was mentioned, she started acting funny, and now, she's moments from having a panic attack. I might come by after all so you can look her over. CPS won't pay for her to see a doctor because they believe she soils herself willfully out of defiance or something weird like that. At least if you put this in a record for us, then we'll have a health professional's opinion on the matter if it comes up." Leah's fingers dug into my wrist hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks. The remote slid further under the couch as she twisted against me, her breathing shallow and uneven. Linda's voice dropped to a murmur, "Bring her in through the service entrance. Less eyes that way." A chair scraped in the background. "And Jim? Bring a change of clothes for yourself too." "Already got initiated this morning. We had an interesting situation come up, and so I don't mind if she wets her pants on me. I just want her safe and healthy. I have a friend that's supposed to help me take her shopping. We'll just go there first, but my friend is sending her kids to school right now." Linda exhaled sharply through her nose. "Service entrance in twenty then. I'll pull some sample creams." The phone clicked dead before I could respond. I called Jennifer. "I have to go straight in to work. There's a nurse there that's going to help me get what we need set up for Leah, and she's going to take the pictures so that we have a health care professional opinion on the abuse and the neglect done to Leah. Leah's panicking, though, so I'm still going to need your help. Please tell your school Sarah has to miss today due to a family emergency... if that's alright. Leah's going to need her friend more than ever right now." Jennifer paused so long I checked the call hadn't dropped. When she spoke, her voice wavered. "Sarah won't be happy about missing her math test...but she'd never forgive herself if Leah needed her." Papers rustled in the background. "We'll meet you at the nursing home." "Sounds good. I'm sorry to put this on you, but as you said, she'd never forgive herself, and Leah needs all the support she can get right now. She's panicking over pictures." I hung up and picked Leah up. "Come on, baby. We have to see some people about keeping you away from creeps like those people that had you last, and then we'll go shopping after that, and you are allowed to pee, baby." I pulled out three cartons of juice from the fridge on our way out. "These are for you, baby. When you're thirsty, just hint that you want some." I raced to the Elderwood Acres somehow avoiding a speeding ticket despite going ten to fifteen over the limit at times to get there in the twenty minutes they told me to. Then I waited for Jennifer to show her the way we were going in. Leah didn't make any trouble, she was just scared. "I know it's going to be scary," I told Leah. "But Grandpa won't let anyone hurt you, okay? We are just trying to help you stay away from abusive people from now on. I don't know this case worker that well, but he left you in shitty panties. I want to make sure he and everyone involved with you from point at school yesterday until you got to my house last night is on a list that don't put you in any homes after this." The nursing home's back entrance smelled of bleach and overcooked green beans, the industrial cleaner barely masking the institutional odors. Leah pressed her face into my shoulder as we waited, her fingers clutching the juice cartons like talismans. The service door buzzed abruptly, making her flinch. I waved Jennifer over. "Over here," I called to her. "We are entering this way. Less eyes on our little angel in case she has another accident." Jennifer hesitated near the dumpsters, her fingers tightening around Sarah's shoulder. The smell of rotting food wafted from the metal bins as Sarah pulled free, her sneakers crunching on gravel. Leah whimpered against my neck, her damp jeans soaking through my shirt. I nodded. "If you don't want to come in, Jennifer, you've done a lot already, but I do want Leah to see that Sarah is here for her." I turned Leah to see Sarah. "See? Your friend is here to support you seeing these people so no one hurts you again." Leah blinked hard, her fingers loosening slightly around the juice cartons. Sarah took a hesitant step forward, her sneakers scuffing against the asphalt. The scent of Jennifer's floral perfume mixed uneasily with the dumpster stench as she crouched to meet Leah's gaze. "Hey," Sarah murmured, holding out a thick coloring book, the kind with pages you could press hard on without tearing. "Thought you might want this for after." The pages rustled as Leah reached out with one trembling hand, her fingers brushing the cover before jerking back. "Actually, the coloring book might be helpful in distracting her from what scares her, honey," I told Sarah. "She's getting pictures of intimate places to prove that she's been abused and neglected. Imagine if someone had to take a picture of where you pee from.... so this is really going to help her." Leah's fingers trembled against my neck, her breath hitching as Nurse Linda pushed through the service door in purple scrubs. The sharp scent of antiseptic wafted out with her, mingling with Leah's lingering urine smell. Linda took one look at Leah's hunched shoulders and softened her voice. "Hey there, sweet pea. We're just gonna take some quick pictures so those bad people can't hurt you again." I showed her the coloring book. "You don't have crayons she can use to distract her from what's happening do you? It'll probably be less stressful if she doesn't see every camera flash." Sarah dug into her backpack and pulled out a handful of broken crayon stubs wrapped in a napkin. The wax smelled faintly of artificial fruit flavors as she pressed them into Leah's shaking hand. Leah stared at the crumpled paper like it might bite her, but when Sarah flipped open the coloring book to a page with thick-lined flowers, Leah's fingers twitched toward the red crayon. "You can come on in, Leah if you want. I don't think you need to see them taking pictures, but you can visit some rooms with friendly patients until you can sit with your friend and color together." I looked up at Jennifer. "It's up to you, Mommy? You going to let Leah support her friend? I know it's hard and this might age her a bit with what the world is like, but she's already seen the worst of what they've done to Leah, you know." Sarah clutched the coloring book tighter, her knuckles whitening around the crayon stubs. The scent of grape-flavored wax intensified as Jennifer hesitated, her gaze flicking between Leah's hollowed cheeks and Sarah's determined expression. Finally, she exhaled sharply through her nose. "Sarah makes her own choices," she murmured. "And she's always chosen kindness." "And that's a credit to her mother," I told Jennifer. "Not a lot of parents out there teaching their kids the kind of kindness that your daughter shows." Leah clutched the crayons in her sweaty fist, the wax softening under her trembling grip. Sarah didn't hesitate, she reached out and took Leah's other hand, her fingers interlacing with Leah's as naturally as if they'd been friends for years instead of hours. The scent of broken crayons mingled with the antiseptic hallway air as Nurse Linda gestured us forward. "The other girl is my friend's daughter. She is the first one to actually get Leah to give much of any hint about what is going on with her, other than me just happenstance discovering her injuries and rashes." Linda nodded, her scrubs whispering as she motioned us toward an exam room. The scent of rubbing alcohol grew stronger as we passed supply carts lined with specimen cups. Leah dug her nails into Sarah's palm but didn't pull away, her breathing shallow as we reached the privacy curtain. "Sarah, they might not let you stay for taking pictures, because this is intimate, but I'm sure a couple of residents would really appreciate a gentle soul like you to talk to. If you are okay visiting them until the pictures are done?" Sarah hesitated, her fingers tightening around Leah's. The crayon wax smeared onto both their palms, leaving streaks of cerulean and crimson. Nurse Linda cleared her throat. "Mrs. Henderson always loves visitors," she offered softly. "And she keeps butterscotches in her drawer." Leah's breath hitched when Sarah started to pull away. Sarah paused, then pressed the coloring book into Leah's arms. "I'll be right outside," she whispered. "Count the tiles until I come back." She pointed to the checkerboard linoleum before stepping back, her sneakers squeaking on the freshly mopped floor. They brought Mrs. Henderson out to a room next to where we were getting Leah's pictures done so that Sarah could be as close as possible to Leah, and so she could be distracted by the old lady that always gave people who visited her two or three butterscotch candies just for taking the trouble to talk to her. Leah clutched the coloring book tighter, her knuckles whitening as Nurse Linda guided her toward the exam table. The paper crinkled loudly under her weight, the sound making her flinch. Across the hall, Mrs. Henderson's raspy voice carried through the thin walls as she offered Sarah a butterscotch. "Take two, sweetheart," she wheezed. "One for you and one for your little friend after her pictures." "You said I should have some extra pants. Does this mean I'm going to hold Leah while you take the pictures?" I asked Nurse Linda. She shook her head, snapping gloves over her hands with practiced efficiency. "You'll stay where she can see you, but I need Jennifer's help for proper documentation." The disposable camera in her hands clicked ominously as she tested the flash. "Oh, I didn't know to tell Jennifer to pack extra pants?" Jennifer blinked rapidly, her fingers tightening around Sarah's shoulder. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting yellow-green shadows across Leah's sunken cheeks. Sarah twisted in her mother's grip, digging into her backpack with her free hand. "I brought my extra gym shorts," she said quietly, pulling out crumpled red fabric. The scent of detergent and adolescent sweat wafted from them as she held them toward me. "You're thirteen, honey. Do you really think your mom can get into your clothes?" Sarah hesitated, then nodded. "Mom helps me with laundry," she murmured, cheeks flushing. Jennifer squeezed her shoulder, silent affirmation. "Okay. I just was a little surprised is all. But yeah, okay. Well, you play with Mrs. Henderson then, and we'll wash your gym shorts for you. You know Leah is likely to pee all over your mom, right?" Sarah didn't even blink. "Mom washes pee clothes all the time," she said, shrugging. "Baby cousins." The butterscotch wrapper crinkled as Mrs. Henderson pressed another candy into her palm. I sighed and took Leah and showed Jennifer into the room where Nurse Linda wanted us. "I really had no idea she meant you should have extra pants. She told me to bring some, but maybe she didn't realize you were coming in with me." Jennifer exhaled sharply, her fingers trembling slightly as she accepted the folded gym shorts from Sarah. The scent of fabric softener clung to them, mixing uneasily with the antiseptic air. "It's fine," she murmured, though her shoulders tensed as Nurse Linda positioned Leah on the exam table. The disposable camera flashed briefly as Linda adjusted the overhead light, casting Leah's bruises into stark relief. I knelt down as they started taking pictures not close enough to touch, but close enough to whisper. "Leah, you have permission if you need to pee. Grandpa doesn't want you holding it until it hurts, okay?" Leah's legs trembled violently, her knees pressing together as Nurse Linda lifted the hem of her shirt. The camera flashed again, illuminating a latticework of old whip marks across her ribs. Jennifer inhaled sharply behind me, her fingers clenching around Sarah's gym shorts. The scent of vinegar and bleach from the cleaning cart outside the door did little to mask the acrid tang of Leah's fear. "Grandpa's big brave girl," I cooed at Leah trying to encourage her. "I know. It will all be over soon, honey." Leah squeezed her eyes shut, her fingernails digging crescent moons into her thighs as Nurse Linda peeled back her waistband. The disposable camera flashed again, capturing the angry red rash creeping up her inner thighs. Jennifer turned abruptly, pressing Sarah's gym shorts to her nose like a makeshift filter against the smell. The overhead lights flickered, casting stuttering shadows across Leah's trembling form. Ten minutes in, dark spots bloomed across Leah's borrowed sweatpants despite her obvious efforts to hold back. Her breathing turned jagged, shallow gasps punctuated by tiny whimpers. Nurse Linda paused mid-photo, lowering the camera. "Sweetheart, it's okay," she murmured, but Leah just shook harder, a fresh trickle darkening the exam table paper beneath her. "Baby," I whispered. "Pee, baby. I don't want you hurting yourself. You pee when it starts coming out. That means you'd already been holding it too long, sweetheart. Remember? No belts or hitting in grandpa's home? That means anywhere Grandpa takes you, too, baby." Leah hesitated, her whole body rigid. A warm trickle seeped through the sweatpants, spreading slowly across the crinkling exam paper beneath her. Nurse Linda didn't flinch, just kept snapping photos of the bruises on Leah's thighs as Jennifer turned away, pressing Sarah's gym shorts to her mouth. The sharp scent of urine mixed with antiseptic, but Leah's shoulders relaxed slightly as the floodgates opened fully at last. Her whisper cut through the hum of fluorescent lights. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." Her voice cracked on the last word, her fingers twisting in the damp fabric of her borrowed pants. "Grandpa said to do it." The apology wasn't for me, her wide, frightened eyes locked onto Jennifer's back, tracking every subtle shift in the woman's posture like she expected a blow. Jennifer froze mid-turn, Sarah's gym shorts dangling from one hand. The scent of citrus detergent filled the space between them as she inhaled sharply, then moved. Not toward the laundry cart or the door, but forward in one decisive motion. Her arms wrapped around Leah's shaking shoulders before either of us could react, pressing the girl's face against her sweater. The wet spot soaked through instantly, darkening the knit fabric. "I've changed more diapers than you've had birthdays, sweetheart," Jennifer murmured into Leah's hair, her voice steadier than her hands. She rocked them slightly, the exam table creaking under their combined weight. "Baby cousins, Sarah's kindergarten accidents, heck, I got peed on at a damn rodeo once." The forced chuckle hitched when Leah's fingers clutched at her sleeves, leaving waxy crayon streaks on the wool. Leah's breath came in hot, damp bursts against Jennifer's collarbone. The smell of urine and antiseptic clung to them both now, but Jennifer didn't pull away. Instead, she smoothed Leah's tangled hair with one hand, the other rubbing slow circles between her trembling shoulder blades. Nurse Linda discreetly set down the camera, her gloved hands hovering near Jennifer's elbows like she wasn't sure whether to offer support or step back. "Jennifer's got it," I told Nurse Linda. "I trust her and her daughter and that's why they came with me today. You know me, and how easy... I trust, right? If I say I trust Jennifer, that's something she's earned, and you know it, right?" Linda nodded, snapping off her gloves with a practiced flick. The latex made a dull pop as she dropped them into the biohazard bin, the scent of disinfectant momentarily overwhelming the lingering odors. "Photographs are done," she said quietly, turning toward the supply cabinet. The drawer squeaked as she pulled out zinc oxide cream and no-rinse cleansing cloths, the packaging crinkling in her hands. "Is this the stuff you suggested I get for her? What can I get without a prescription, and what do I need to set up with a gyn/ob to get a prescription for?" Linda tapped the zinc oxide tube against her palm. "This is OTC, but she'll need prescription antifungal cream for the yeast infection." The words made Leah stiffen in Jennifer's arms, her fingers twisting tighter in the damp sweater. Linda lowered her voice, turning slightly away. "I'll write down what to ask for when you get her established with a pediatrician." "Like I said, they are not letting me set her up with one for a month. They said she does this on purpose, so unless you know a medical shortcut that can cut their red tape, we are screwed." Linda's jaw tightened, her fingers drumming against the zinc oxide tube. Across the room, Sarah peeked in from the hallway, her fingers clutching Mrs. Henderson's wrinkled hand. The old woman wheezed softly, pressing another butterscotch into Sarah's palm. "For after," she whispered, nodding toward Leah. I smiled at seeing Mrs. Henderson and Sarah join us. "I told you Mrs. Henderson is nice, right Sarah?" Sarah nodded, her fingers sticky with butterscotch as she hesitantly approached Leah. The scent of caramel mixed uneasily with the lingering antiseptic and urine. Leah flinched when Sarah reached out, but then froze as Sarah pressed the candy into her palm, the one not smeared with crayon wax. "Leah got your letter, Sarah. I'm afraid it got ruined, though. You know how nervous she gets. It fell in spilled juice, but she read it." Sarah's brow furrowed, then smoothed as understanding dawned. She dug into her backpack again, pulling out a slightly crumpled envelope. The paper smelled faintly of strawberries and pencil lead. "I wrote another one last night," she murmured, holding it out toward Leah's trembling fingers. "Mom helped me spell 'friend' right." I narrowed my eyes. I had no idea that Sarah had this much trouble. She wet the bed until she was eleven, has an IEP, and now it seems needs help to spell words that a lot of elementary kids can spell. I was learning a lot about Sarah just because she was friends with my foster kid, well grandkid, really. But I was surprised at how little I really knew of poor Sarah's own struggles. Jennifer caught my gaze and shook her head slightly, her fingers tightening around Leah's shoulders. The silent warning was clear, don't ask. Sarah's cheeks flushed pink as she fumbled with the envelope, her knuckles brushing against Leah's damp fingers. The scent of strawberry-scented stationery mingled with the lingering antiseptic, masking the urine smell for just a moment. I nodded. I knew Jennifer well enough to know when something was a promised private matter between kid and mother, something I was going to have to eventually establish with Leah, once I had her well in hand without needing the help of Jennifer. Leah hesitated, her fingers trembling around the envelope. The crayon wax left smudges on the paper as she traced Sarah's uneven handwriting. Mrs. Henderson chuckled softly from the doorway, her wrinkled hand patting Sarah's shoulder. "Smart girls take their time spelling," she rasped. "My Eleanor couldn't spell 'cat' till she was twelve, and that girl grew up to run three banks." I smiled back at Mrs. Henderson. She always seemed to know the right thing to say at the right time. Jennifer exhaled softly as she eased Leah's grip on her sweater, the damp fabric peeling away with a quiet sound. The zinc oxide tube clicked open in Nurse Linda's hands, the medicinal scent sharp against the lingering sweetness of butterscotch. Leah gasped suddenly, her body jerking as another hot stream escaped despite her obvious effort to stop it. Her knees slammed together, but the damage was done, dark rivulets dripped onto the exam table, pattering softly against the paper. I walked over and hugged her. "It's okay, baby. You are allowed. You have permission. Just keep peeing if you need to. I don't want you to get sick, baby." Leah's breath hitched as her body betrayed her again, the warm trickle turning into a steady stream soaking through Jennifer's borrowed gym shorts and dripping onto the floor. The sharp ammonia scent mixed with the antiseptic air as she trembled violently, her fingers clawing at the exam table paper beneath her. Nurse Linda didn't flinch, just kept applying the zinc oxide cream with clinical precision, her gloved hands moving methodically over Leah's raw skin. "That didn't look deliberate to anyone of you, did it?" I asked as I showed Nurse Linda the file where it showed that that's what was written. She shook her head, snapping the cream shut with finality. The scent of medicinal ointment clung stubbornly to the air between us as she handed me the tube. "These injuries don't lie," she murmured low enough that only I could hear. Leah whimpered against Jennifer's shoulder, her sweatpants now completely soaked through. Sarah's small fingers hesitantly brushed Leah's elbow, transferring sticky butterscotch residue onto her damp skin. "I want this case worker investigated. He brought this child to me in crappy pants without even any clean clothes when they got to my place. I understand they might not have things right away, but you'd think he wouldn't embarrass a teenager like that... if he cared." Nurse Linda sighed, peeling off her gloves with a snap. The latex left red marks around her wrists as she tossed them into the biohazard bin. "I'll make copies of these photos for your records," she murmured, nodding toward Leah's trembling form. The disposable camera whirred as she ejected the film cartridge, the plastic casing clicking against the countertop. "What do you think my next step is, to make sure Leah never gets into the wrong hands again, if somehow, CPS decides to take her away from me?" The question hung between us, thick as the disinfectant fumes. Nurse Linda hesitated, her fingers tapping the film cartridge against her palm. Behind her, Jennifer was murmuring something to Leah, something about how real accidents never got anyone in trouble, not in her house, not ever. Sarah hovered near the doorway, twisting the hem of her shirt, her sneakers squeaking against the damp floor. Linda exhaled sharply through her nose. "You need paper trails," she said finally, low enough that Leah wouldn't hear. "Document everything, the rashes, the accidents, the fear responses. Dates, times, witnesses." She nodded toward Sarah clutching her ruined crayon drawings. "Kids her age don't usually wet themselves from pure defiance. That's a trauma response, and any halfway decent caseworker should recognize it." "Thank you. I really appreciate your help. I know I'm taking you away from the residents, but at least they are safe, here. Leah is only safe while she's in my house, so I need to figure out how to either keep her there, or to keep CPS from moving her somewhere like she's already been." Leah shuddered violently against Jennifer, her damp fingers clutching at the woman's sweater like a lifeline. Sarah hesitantly stepped closer, pressing her crumpled letter into Leah's free hand. The scent of strawberries mixed with antiseptic as Leah's breath hitched, her shoulders trembling under Jennifer's steady hands. "Come here, baby," I reached out to Leah. "Let's let Auntie Jennifer get some clean pants on. I know it was an accident, and that you couldn't help it, but she's uncomfortable, so we need to let her get some dry pants on, okay?" Leah's fingers tightened around Jennifer's sleeve, leaving waxy smudges on the wool. Her breathing hitched, shoulders hunching protectively as Jennifer gently pried her grip loose. "It's okay, sweetheart," Jennifer murmured, peeling the damp sweater away from her skin with a quiet sound. The scent of urine clung stubbornly to the fabric as she draped it over the nearby chair. "Do you want to do anything else, or is that all and we have to wait for CPS to let us get her a pediatrician?" Nurse Linda hesitated, her fingers tapping the zinc oxide tube against her palm. The scent of medicinal cream lingered in the air as she glanced toward Leah, now curled tightly against my chest. Leah's fingers dug into my shirt, her breath coming in shallow bursts against my collarbone. "There's... one more thing," Linda said slowly, lowering her voice. "The nursing home has an arrangement with a mobile pediatric service. They usually handle our residents' grandchildren, but..." "You think you can let them look since she's my direct responsibility and I work here?" Linda nodded, rubbing the red marks left by her gloves. The faint scent of latex still clung to her scrubs as she motioned toward the hallway. "Dr. Patel makes rounds on Thursdays. He's discreet." Her voice dropped lower as Leah stiffened in my arms. "We can schedule her as a resident's visiting grandchild. Paperwork stays in-house unless..." "Unless...?" I was scared but also really knew that the sooner Leah got the help she needed, the less pain she'd be in. Linda exhaled sharply, her fingers twitching toward the biohazard bin before stilling. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting sickly shadows across Leah's pinched face as she buried her nose deeper into my shirt. "Unless CPS subpoenas the records," Linda murmured, her voice barely audible over the wheezing rattle of Mrs. Henderson's oxygen tank down the hall. "So... what if we beat them to it, and have a copy sent to our own lawyer as well as what CPS gave me to work with. This will prove CPS, at least the people involved covered up the crimes and treated her like trash, causing us to have to go this route? I'll draw all my savings out, if you point me to an attorney that will help us." Leah whimpered against my chest, her small frame shuddering like a trapped bird. The scent of urine and antiseptic clung to her skin, mingling with the faint sweetness of butterscotch still smeared on her fingers. Nurse Linda's gaze flickered toward the doorway where Sarah stood clutching Mrs. Henderson's gnarled hand, her sneakers squeaking against the damp linoleum. "We don't have one, do we?" I asked. Linda hesitated, glancing at Jennifer. The silence stretched taut as Leah's fingers twisted in my shirt, her knuckles whitening. Down the hall, Mrs. Henderson wheezed out another butterscotch for Sarah, the crinkling wrapper unnaturally loud. Jennifer cleared her throat, peeling Leah's damp hand from her sleeve with a quiet sound. "I... might know someone," she said carefully, avoiding Sarah's curious stare. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting her face in harsh shadows. "My divorce attorney handled custody disputes too. She referred me to a child advocate when..." Her voice trailed off as Sarah stiffened by the doorway. Sarah's knees pressed together suddenly, her fingers tightening around Mrs. Henderson's wrinkled hand. A dark spot bloomed across the front of her jeans, spreading slowly down her thighs. The sharp scent of urine mixed with butterscotch as Sarah's breath hitched, not from embarrassment, but from something deeper. Mrs. Henderson's gnarled fingers tightened around hers as the old woman murmured, "Oh, sweet pea. Not again." Jennifer froze mid-sentence, her divorce attorney's name dying on her lips as she turned toward her daughter. The fluorescent lights caught the wet streaks glistening on Sarah's jeans, the same way they'd glistened two years ago during the custody hearings. Sarah's shoulders hunched, her free hand clutching at her stomach like she was trying to fold inward. I ran over and picked Sarah up, just as I would Leah, and I hugged her. "It's okay, honey. It's okay. Your mama knows you didn't mean to." I rocked her. Sarah's knees buckled against my chest, the warm dampness soaking through my shirt as she trembled violently. The scent of urine mixed with the strawberry gum she'd been chewing earlier, sharp and sour against the sterile hospital air. Jennifer's hands hovered near her daughter's shoulders, her fingers twitching like she wanted to snatch Sarah away but knew better than to startle her further. Leah's fingers twitched at her sides, still sticky with crayon wax and butterscotch residue. Then, hesitantly, she reached out, her palm landing on Sarah's shuddering shoulder with unexpected gentleness. The movement was stiff, unpracticed, but deliberate. Sarah flinched at first, her breath catching in a wet gasp, but Leah didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned closer until their foreheads nearly touched and whispered, so quiet only Sarah could hear: "I peed too." Jennifer's breath hitched. She reached for them both, her hands hovering, not touching, not yet, her fingers trembling like she was afraid they'd dissolve if she made contact. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, flickering once as Mrs. Henderson shuffled closer, her orthopedic shoes squeaking against the linoleum. She pressed two fresh butterscotch candies into Sarah's free hand, wrapping wrinkled fingers around the girl's damp ones. "Twins," she rasped, nodding sagely. "I'm sorry, Sarah." I muttered and looked to Jennifer for the best way to frame this. Honestly, Sarah probably shouldn't have been there when we turned to law and medical advice. I should have sent the kids off with Mrs. Henderson to play, but I was short sighted. Jennifer's hands trembled as she reached for Sarah, her fingers brushing against Leah's wrist before hesitating. The scent of butterscotch and urine hung thick in the air between them. "Sarah's accident," she murmured, her voice cracking, "isn't new. It's why we needed... the advocate." "Oh, wow. Now it all makes sense. Sarah? I'm here for you. You know no one gets personal things out of Grandpa Jim unless I need help, and those I trust to help are very very few. I trust the nurse here, and I trust your mother. None of your school friends will know what happened here today unless you tell them. I will make sure Leah understands how to be a true friend, sweetheart." Sarah sniffled against my shoulder, her damp jeans soaking into my shirt. Leah's fingers twitched toward Sarah's elbow, hesitating before brushing against the wet fabric. Jennifer exhaled shakily, her fingers twisting in the hem of her sweater. "I have diapers," Sarah mumbled into my collarbone, her breath warm and sticky with butterscotch. "In my room. You knew that." "Baby, when you were eleven, you would tell me to stay out of your room when I babysat you, remember? Do you honestly think I go snooping around a teenager's bedroom when I've been told to stay out? There are things that's natural to hide that I wouldn't want to embarrass you with. That's why I only ever checked through your closed door. If you answered me, you were where you were supposed to be, so I had no reason to see your diapers, honey." Sarah stiffened against my chest, her damp jeans pressing uncomfortably against my ribs. The scent of butterscotch and urine clung stubbornly between us as she processed this. Jennifer made a small, wounded noise behind us, her fingers twisting in her sweater sleeves. "I will make a confession though. Your mom sort of assumed I had had seen too, and with everything going on with Leah, I just found out this morning that you had them, but I wasn't going to tell you. I didn't want to embarrass you, and your mom agreed." Sarah nodded, her fingers twisting in the damp fabric of my shirt. "You knew," she whispered, her voice thick with something between relief and resignation. "You always knew." "I knew you had some trouble, but I chose not to go digging for what might embarrass you. You are like a grandchild to me, even if not biologically. You know that, right?" Sarah sniffled, pressing her damp face into my shoulder. Behind us, Leah shifted awkwardly, her fingers still hovering near Sarah's elbow, unsure whether to pull away or stay. Jennifer exhaled sharply, twisting the hem of her sweater into knots. I pulled Leah close to us. "I'd like you two to do a favor for grandpa, if you would try?" Sarah blinked up at me, her damp lashes clumping together as she waited. Leah tensed, her fingers twitching near Sarah's elbow like she wasn't sure if contact was allowed yet. The scent of urine and butterscotch mingled with Leah's antiseptic cream, creating a strange, sour-sweet aroma between us. "I'd like you two to promise, even if you get in a fight or stop being friends, you will respect each other enough, and respect grandpa enough, not to bring up anything that you find out about each other in a way that can hurt the other at school. Can you try to do that for me? It makes me sad when people do that to each other." Sarah nodded vigorously, her damp bangs sticking to her forehead. "I knew you knew," she whispered again, her fingers twisting in my shirt. "About the diapers." "Would you show Leah how to put on diapers and take them off so she can try to be more independent? I think she looks up to you." I put Sarah and down and lifted Leah down next to her. "Leah might not feel as bad about needing them if she knows you know how they work as proof you needed them before." Sarah's cheeks flushed pink as she glanced at Leah, then nodded slowly. The scent of butterscotch and urine still clung to her jeans as she shifted uncomfortably. "I have nighttime ones," she murmured, her fingers twisting in the hem of her shirt. "And... sometimes at school, if I don't make it." Her voice cracked on the last word, her shoulders hunching inward. "Baby, if anyone at school gives you hell over pissing your pants, just like if someone picks on Leah, you tell Grandpa Jim. I won't stand for it, baby. And your mom won't either, especially if it's a teacher that causes your issues to be known." Sarah wiped her nose with the back of her hand, smearing butterscotch residue across her cheek. The scent of urine and antiseptic mingled with her strawberry gum as she nodded. Jennifer's fingers twitched toward her daughter before stilling, her knuckles whitening around the damp sweater sleeves. "You are still allowed to sleep at Grandpa Jims, on weekend, when you don't have school... whether you still need them or not, understand Sarah? No judgment. You have someone you can slumber party with too, because you know Leah isn't going to judge you with her own issues." Sarah's fingers twisted in the hem of her damp shirt, her shoulders relaxing slightly. The scent of urine and butterscotch still clung stubbornly to her jeans as she nodded. "Okay," she whispered, her voice cracking. Behind her, Jennifer exhaled sharply, twisting her sweater sleeves tighter. I turned to Jennifer. "Jennifer? You know you don't have to suffer in silence if you need help coping with stuff. You know I never judge, and you and your daughter are the kindest people I know. I'd never hurt you. You know that, right?" Jennifer's fingers loosened around her sweater sleeves, the damp wool creased from her grip. She exhaled sharply through her nose, the scent of antiseptic and urine still thick around us. "I know," she murmured, glancing at Sarah, who was now tentatively holding Leah's sticky fingers. "But the IEP... the custody hearings... it's not just Sarah's history." Her voice cracked on the last word. "Sounds like we need some private time, and we should talk about it in the car, but right now, you said you know a lawyer, right? Let's get this done so we can talk about what's on your table, how is that?" Jennifer exhaled sharply, her fingers twisting in her sweater sleeves again. The fabric stretched taut under her grip as she glanced toward Sarah, who was now guiding Leah toward the bathroom with hesitant steps. Sarah's damp jeans left faint marks on the linoleum, her shoulders hunched protectively as she murmured something about "pull-up tabs" to Leah. "Well, we might have a lawyer soon," I told Nurse Linda. "Just keep a copy for a lawyer, and we'll be back for that, if you wish. Then CPS can request anything they want, but it won't save their corrupt workers if we have a lawyer that knows the same stuff. So the pediatrician?" Linda hesitated, glancing at Jennifer. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as Leah shuffled closer to Sarah, their fingers still loosely intertwined. "Thursday," Linda murmured. "I'll put Leah down as Mrs. Henderson's visiting granddaughter. Paperwork will stay here unless..." She trailed off, her gaze flickering toward Sarah's damp jeans. "I'll make sure to note that in the records and that we set this up because it was the only way to get around CPS's unlawful denial of medical treatment and examination of Leah. That should spin their heads around a couple of times, that I admit it and with our collaborating proof, just imagine who will be in more trouble. It's not going to be a medical staff nurse doing her job she swore to...." Sarah's grip tightened on Leah's hand as she guided her toward the bathroom. The scent of butterscotch and urine trailed after them, mingling with the sharp tang of antiseptic. Leah hesitated at the threshold, her shoulders hunched protectively, but Sarah murmured something about "secret pajama pants" and the tension eased slightly. I turned to Jennifer, lowering my voice. "Let's step outside." The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as we moved toward the nursing home's courtyard, the cold February air biting at our faces. Jennifer's fingers twisted in her sweater sleeves again, her breath fogging in the dim light. "I should've told you sooner," she whispered. "About Sarah's IEP meetings, the custody evaluations... They made her wear monitors. For months." Her voice cracked on the word monitors. "Her father's lawyer kept insisting her accidents were behavioral, that I was..." She swallowed hard. "That I was fabricating medical needs to get full custody." "That seems an invasion of a minor's privacy, and without criminal activity, that seems illegal," I whispered. But I am guessing there's more to it than even that?' Jennifer exhaled sharply, her breath curling in the cold air. The scent of antiseptic still clung faintly to her sweater as she leaned against the brick wall, her fingers digging into the damp wool. "They made her wear wires," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the distant hum of the nursing home's generator. "Twice a week after school. To 'prove' I wasn't coaching her symptoms." Her knuckles whitened. "Sarah would come home sobbing, begging me not to make her go back to her father's. But the court..." "The court made her... and that's when you asked your lawyer for help from this other lawyer?" I asked. "Trust me, I'd fight for my child, too, hon. You did nothing wrong." Jennifer's fingers twisted deeper into her sweater sleeves, the damp wool stretching under her grip. The courtyard lights flickered overhead, casting jagged shadows across her face. "Sarah couldn't sleep," she whispered. "Started wetting the bed again at twelve years old after two years dry. The court-appointed therapist called it 'regressive attention-seeking.'" A sob caught in her throat. "I stopped going to Bible study when the other moms started asking why Sarah kept missing youth group. Couldn't risk CPS thinking I was... unstable." "And there it is. You knew I was trying to get a kid of my own. You were afraid to tell me because if CPS investigated you, you didn't want it to be your fault I didn't get a kid. Right?" I held her hand. "Jenny? They told me eight months ago that I wasn't likely to get a kid and your name never came up. They weren't planning on giving me a kid, and it had nothing to do with you. I told you about that, remember, that they had already decided I was single, too old, and a man?" Jennifer's fingers trembled in mine, her grip tightening like she was afraid I'd vanish if she let go. The courtyard lights flickered again, casting uneven shadows across her tear-streaked face. "I thought, if they saw me struggling, if they knew Sarah still had accidents, " She choked on the words, her shoulders shaking. "They'd say I was unfit. And then they'd look at you next. Single. Older. With a friend who couldn't even keep her own kid dry." "Well, news flash, Jenny. They couldn't even get a thirteen year old girl into clean pants after she pooped herself at school, all caused by them letting her to go a family that severly abused her and neglected her. You are nowhere the monsters they made you to be, and if they try that carp on you again, you just remember, I have a file that proves CPS is a lot less capable than you are." Jennifer's fingers tightened around mine, her knuckles pressing painfully into my palm. The courtyard wind whipped a strand of hair across her face, clinging to the tear tracks on her cheeks. "But the IEP meetings," she whispered. "The custody hearings... it's not just Sarah's history." Her breath hitched. "I couldn't even sit through parent-teacher conferences last year without shaking. Sarah's math teacher kept asking why I wouldn't look at her during meetings." "You were scared you were going to lose your kid, Jenny. It's reasonable that you are shaking and scared. You are getting your daughter the help she needs despite the permission you are giving the state to look into your home with a magnifying glass, and your ex trying to make you seem like this is all your doing! You did absolutely nothing wrong, and any teacher that tries bullying you, well, from now on, any parent-teacher meetings they want, you bring me. We are friends. They will find it a lot harder to bully a Master Sargeant of the Marines." Jennifer's breath hitched, her fingers twisting in her sweater sleeves. The courtyard wind carried the scent of antiseptic from her damp clothes as she leaned against the brick wall. "The divorce lawyer," she whispered, her voice fraying at the edges. "She specializes in custody cases where... where the system gets weaponized. Sarah's father used public school records against me in court. Claimed her IEP proved instability." "Well, the fact that he didn't get her one proves HIS instability and his fear of something being found out. Too bad the lawyers didn't pick up on turing that around. You know what? I might have a friend or two left in the army. If you trust your lawyer, maybe I should get the Marines Legal counsel involved. Your ex will lucky if he doesn't get jail time if he messes with us, but because it sounds like he broke the law to weaponize a system to illegally wire his underage daughter to try to get evidence on her own mother." Jennifer's fingers trembled against the brick wall, her nails scraping faintly against the rough surface. The wind carried the distant sound of Sarah's muffled laughter from inside, mingled with Leah's tentative responses, something about pull-up tabs and strawberry scents. Jennifer swallowed hard, her throat working silently before words finally came. "At church... I stopped going to Bible study after Mrs. Thompson asked why Sarah kept skipping youth group." Her voice fractured. "I couldn't risk CPS thinking I was isolating her. Couldn't risk anyone seeing how often I had to... to change her clothes after school." "Sweetheart, that's where you went wrong. You should have let her go to Youth group. You would have had witnesses that she needed help and that she was peeing her pants, and it wasn't her fault. But that's a tricky slope, I know. I am not sure I trust all those ladies either, but I'm sure if we explain to one person we trust, and we have her watch out for both our kids, that will give you another witness and it will make our kids happier that they don't feel isolated and other young people can be supportive of struggles." Jennifer's fingers twisted deeper into her sweater sleeves, the damp wool stretching under her grip. The courtyard wind carried the scent of antiseptic from Leah's earlier treatment, mixing with the distant smell of Sarah's strawberry gum. "But the IEP meetings... the custody hearings..." Her voice cracked. "It's not just Sarah's history." She swallowed hard, her throat working silently. "After the court ordered those wires, Sarah started hiding her accidents. Wouldn't tell me when she needed help. I found soiled underwear stuffed behind her dresser last winter." Her breath hitched. "She thought if she hid it well enough, they'd stop making her wear those... those things." "That's why what your ex did was illegal. Do you have records of when you found her with wires and all the begging your child did not to go to daddy's, and the lawyers forcing you to let her?" Jennifer's fingers dug into her sweater sleeves, the damp wool stretching under her grip. The courtyard wind carried the scent of antiseptic from Leah's earlier treatment, mixing with Sarah's faint strawberry gum still lingering in the air. "I have everything," she whispered, her voice fraying. "Every IEP meeting transcript, every custody evaluation report... I kept Sarah's soiled clothes in sealed bags for six months because I was terrified they'd accuse me of fabricating her incontinence." Her breath hitched. "The court-appointed guardian ad litem called it 'mother-induced hysteria.'" "Well, let's see what they think of Marine induced hysteria," I frowned. "Forget your lawyers. They didn't do crap. I'm calling my people. I may be retired, but I'm pretty sure I can still get legal advice, and a brother in the service isn't going to steer me wrong if I ask for a decent lawyer, but it might cost an arm and a leg." Jennifer's fingers trembled against the brick wall, her nails catching on the rough surface. The wind carried the faint sound of Sarah and Leah's voices from inside, Leah murmuring something about "secret pajama pants" as Sarah giggled nervously. Jennifer exhaled sharply, her breath fogging in the cold air. "You'd... do that? For us?" "Look what you did for a kid you didn't know at all and in the middle of the night last night, and I know you lied when you said you were donating that stuff. You made sure Leah didn't feel guilty taking it. You, of all people, deserve my loyalty. So, yes, I will do that and more. Your kid still pissing her pants at school and at night? You said she started it up again at twelve years old? So I assume it hasn't stopped then?" Jennifer's fingers twisted in her sweater sleeves, the damp wool stretching under her grip. The courtyard wind carried the faint scent of Sarah's strawberry shampoo from inside, mingled with Leah's antiseptic cream. "Twice last week," Jennifer whispered, her voice cracking. "Her math teacher emailed me a 'behavioral concern' when Sarah leaked during a test. The email... it had CC'd the principal and Sarah's father." Her nails dug into her palms. "He forwarded it to his lawyer with the subject line 'More maternal neglect?'" "He'll wish he didn't make THAT mistake. He just gave us a paper that shows she is struggling with her bladder after he tried for years to deny it! He's dug his own grave with that stunt!" I pulled my phone. "You stay right here. You'll have to tell these people some embarrassing things you told me, but if they believe you, I'm certain they'll ask me to take you to the base this weekend to meet." Jennifer's fingers tightened around mine as I dialed, her breath hitching when the line connected. The wind carried Leah's muffled voice from inside, "No, the tabs go *under*", followed by Sarah's nervous giggle. "I'd like to speak with Major Sargeant Ripps? It's me, Jim Greene, Master Gunnery Sargeant retired. You said if I ever needed help, right?" Jennifer's fingers tightened around mine as the phone clicked over to hold. The wind carried Sarah's muffled instructions from inside, "No, Leah, the sticky part goes *under*", followed by Leah's tentative "Oh." Jennifer exhaled sharply, her breath fogging between us in the cold air. "They connected me not with who I wanted, but with Lieutenant Craigger," I muttered, pressing the phone tighter to my ear. Jennifer stiffened at the name, her fingers twitching against my wrist. The lieutenant's voice crackled through the line, tinny and distant. "Master Guns? That you? Damn, it's been, " He hesitated, and I heard papers shuffling. "Twelve years?" "Wait, you did it? You went to officer school after all? This is Sargeant Craigger, right? Hey! I knew you'd make it as a lawyer someday!" "I know this guy," I smiled at Jennifer uplifted. "We were in the same unit when G.W.Bush put military in Iraq back in 2005!" Jennifer's fingers tightened around mine, her grip turning icy as the phone crackled with Craigger's laughter. "Damn right, Master Guns. JAG Corps now. What's burning?" His voice sharpened abruptly, the same clipped tone he'd used interrogating insurgents in Fallujah. Jennifer flinched at the sudden shift, her fingers digging into my wrist. "I have two separate problems that might be hard to combine, but cash is limited and basically one is a child getting rail roaded into bad positions and the other is a woman being railroaded by her ex who seems to have all the right connections, causing the mother to make social mistakes due to nervousness of losing her kid, but in truth, she's just trying to protect her. There's no chance you can help your old unit leader out, is there?" Craigger's silence stretched for three heartbeats, long enough for Jennifer's fingers to go slack against my wrist. The phone crackled as he exhaled. "You still got that knack for understatement, Master Guns." Papers shuffled again. "Give me the bullet points." "Which story do you want first? As I said, it would probably be hard to combine them." Craigger's chair creaked through the phone line. "Start with the kid." His tone had that familiar battlefield efficiency, prioritize the most vulnerable first. Jennifer's fingers spasmed against mine, her knuckles pressing white crescents into my skin. "This is what I know. I have a fat file I haven't had time to look deeply into yet. Just got the kid yesterday. She came to my house with this guy that kept telling me all the bad stuff she does... not one good word about her. She arrives at my house so quiet, scared, violently volatile, and expecting of punishment, that she sits there in discomfort hoping no one notices she's pissing herself and I come to find out a bath later, she's worn those same panties the whole day, since school at least by the look of it, and she's shit herself at least at school if not before and no one changed her. She has marks all over her from neglect... rashes... belt marks... beatings, and bruises. They say she deliberately and voluntarily shits her pants at school and pisses herself. Clean enough for you? Oh, and I'm not allowed to take her to see a doctor for a month, but the place I work at found a work around for me." Craigger exhaled sharply through the phone. Jennifer's fingers tightened around mine as Sarah's muffled laughter drifted from inside, Leah must have finally gotten the tabs right. "Jesus, Master Guns. That's textbook neglect at minimum. Who's blocking medical care?" His voice had gone tight, the same tone he'd used interrogating corrupt Iraqi police commanders. "CPS. They said they already did medical on her and said her situation hasn't changed so she's being written off as a troublemaker." Jennifer's breath hitched beside me as Craigger muttered something that would've earned him push-ups back in '05. The phone crackled with the sound of his keyboard clacking. "Master Guns," he said slowly, "you still near Pendleton?" His chair creaked. "Because I've got a JAG buddy who just transferred to Family Law at Camp Lejeune. Specializes in dependency cases where..." He hesitated, and I heard papers shuffle. "Where the system's the abuser." "I am about two hours from there, but that's where the girl is from. And the mother case I was telling you about, I... am not sure, but it feels like the same kind of control being manipulated over her. Her child had to unlawfully wear wires to spy on her mom because she's been having trouble, but her mom knows best and can tell you better than I. She's right here." Jennifer's fingers trembled against mine as I passed her the phone. The courtyard wind carried Leah's tentative questions from inside, "Why's this part crinkly?", followed by Sarah's hushed explanation about waterproof layers. Jennifer swallowed hard, pressing the phone to her ear. "Lieutenant? I... I have court records. Everything." Her voice cracked. "They made my daughter wear monitoring devices during custody visits. For six months." Her free hand twisted in her sweater. "The judge called it 'standard procedure.'" "Take your time," I urged her. "Tell him the mistakes you made, were tricked into making through fear, and tell him what your husband's stupid lawyer did a couple of weeks ago." Jennifer's fingers trembled around the phone, her knuckles pressing white crescents into the plastic case. The courtyard wind carried Sarah's muffled instructions from inside, something about elastic waistbands, as Jennifer inhaled sharply. "Lieutenant," she began, her voice steadier than I expected, "my ex-husband's attorney subpoenaed my daughter's IEP records last year. Used them to claim I was..." Her throat worked. "Fabricating medical issues. The court ordered Sarah to wear recording devices during our visits." Her grip tightened. "I have the transcripts where she begged the judge not to make her go." Static crackled through the line. Craigger's chair creaked audibly. "Ma'am," he said slowly, "you're telling me a family court ordered warrantless surveillance on a minor without medical justification?" His tone carried that particular Marine Corps blend of fury and precision. Jennifer's shoulders sagged in relief at his immediate understanding. She shot me a quick glance before continuing. "The therapist claimed Sarah's incontinence was 'mother-induced hysteria.'" Her fingers twisted in her sweater sleeve again. "I have the sealed bags, the soiled clothes I kept as evidence. And the emails from school when..." Her voice broke. "When Sarah's teacher CC'd her father about accidents during tests." Static hissed through the line. Then Craigger's voice came through sharp as a bayonet. "Ma'am, I need those documents. Every IEP meeting transcript. Every custody evaluation. Especially those recordings." His chair creaked ominously. "This smells like coercion of a minor for family court advantage." "Tell him about the stress on your daughter and the increased potty troubles and your own stress taking her out of programs because of fear of CPS." I urged and nodded. "He's military. He's not going to be swayed by civilian authority, so it's okay. CPS cannot bully him, Jenny." Jennifer swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around the phone. "Lieutenant," she began, her voice steadier than I expected, "after the court ordered those wires... Sarah stopped telling me when she had accidents. Started hiding soiled underwear behind furniture." Her free hand clenched into a fist. "I pulled her from gymnastics, church youth group, anywhere I thought CPS might misinterpret her accidents as neglect." Static crackled as Craigger muttered something about "psychological warfare." Seeing her nervousness, I motioned for the phone back. "That's enough, Jenny. He can find out the rest on Saturday. If he's going to meet us." Craigger's voice crackled through, sharp with recognition. "Master Guns, I'll have Captain Meyers meet you at the main gate Saturday, 0800. Bring every document you have on both cases." Papers shuffled in the background. "And Master Guns?" His tone darkened. "Don't let CPS near that kid until we've documented her injuries." I have a nurse I trust who has documented her with pictures and who is going to let us sneak her in as a residence's grandchild tomorrow to get her medicine she desperately needs. One of the reasons I knew I'd need a lawyer, is I'm not playing fair by ignoring CPS not allowing her to see a doctor, and that's what started this, then my friend finally told me the truth about what's been happening to her for years with her ex." Craigger's sharp inhale crackled through the phone. Jennifer's fingers twitched against mine as Leah's uncertain voice drifted from inside, "Does this part go in front?", followed by Sarah's hushed reassurance. The lieutenant's tone shifted, that battlefield urgency snapping into place. "Master Guns, listen carefully. Document everything before treatment. Timestamped photos, witness signatures. If CPS tries claiming you fabricated evidence..." He let the implication hang. Jennifer's grip on my wrist tightened. "Understood. That's why I took her to a nursing home, and a nurse documented it. I will make sure you get all the pictures. Do you want me to put her seeing the nursing staff doctor on hold until you see her? I'm sure the nurse can arrange that if she knows that's the legal advice I'm getting." Jennifer's fingers fluttered against my elbow, her breath warm against my shoulder as she whispered, "Wait, I might have another option." The phone crackled with static as Craigger muttered something about chain of custody. Jennifer swallowed hard, her voice gaining strength. "Lieutenant, my divorce attorney specialized in high-conflict custody cases. She might know a civilian lawyer who..." Her throat worked silently. "Who wouldn't make Sarah testify again." "I'm sorry if we are bombarding you, but did you hear my friend?" I asked Lieutenant Craigger. The phone crackled with static. "Heard her loud and clear, Master Guns." His tone shifted slightly, that battlefield pragmatism I remembered from Fallujah creeping in. "Ma'am, what's your lawyer's name?" "Here take the phone. He might have a few questions about that, Jenny. I told you he'd help if he could." Jennifer's fingers trembled as she took the phone, her knuckles pale against the dark plastic. The wind snatched at her hair, whipping strands across her face as she spoke. "Lieutenant? Her name was Elena Vasquez. Vasquez & Associates in San Diego." Her throat worked. "She... she warned me about the recording devices. Called them unconstitutional." Static crackled through the line. Then Craigger's voice came through, sharper now. "Wait. Elena Vasquez? Dark hair, scar above her left eyebrow?" Jennifer froze, her fingers tightening around the phone. "Yes. How did you, " "Know her?" he chuckled. She helped me pass the bar exam to get into JAG. Small world." Jennifer froze, her fingers tightening around the phone. The wind carried Sarah's muffled laughter from inside, Leah must have finally gotten the tabs right. Static crackled as Craigger continued, "Ma'am, Elena's the reason I'm in JAG Corps. She tutored me through torts when I kept mixing up negligence standards." Jennifer exhaled sharply, her breath fogging in the cold air. "Then you know," she whispered, "how thorough she is with documentation." Her knuckles whitened around the phone. "She kept copies of everything. Even the..." Her voice broke. "The recordings they made of Sarah crying in the courthouse bathroom." Static hissed through the line. Craigger's chair creaked ominously. "Ma'am, Elena kept a war chest on your case?" His tone carried that particular Marine blend of fury and admiration. Jennifer nodded before remembering he couldn't see her. "Yes. She warned me the custody fight would get uglier." The wind carried Leah's uncertain question from inside - "What if it leaks?" - followed by Sarah's patient explanation about double layers. Jennifer's fingers tightened around the phone. "Lieutenant, Elena had me document every accident Sarah had for two years. Even the..." Her voice fractured. "The ones during supervised visits when her father made her drink three sodas beforehand." The brick wall scraped against her back as she slid down slightly, her knees giving way under the weight of memory. "My God," I whispered. "That's not just manipulation, that's harmful. He could have damaged his daughter's kidneys doing that shit." Jennifer clutched the phone tighter, her knuckles bone-white against the plastic. "Lieutenant," she rasped, "Elena filed motions to prohibit forced hydration before visits, but the judge..." Her breath hitched. "Called it 'reasonable parenting discretion.'" I took the phone back. "I am in the health industry. You know old people. We have to hydrate them, sure. But if you forced an elderly to drink three sodas back to back, we'd go to prison for basically water poisoning someone for a lack of a better way to explain the condition to a layman." Jennifer slumped against the brick wall, her fingers twisting in her sweater sleeves. The phone crackled with Craigger's sharp exhale. "Master Guns," he said, his tone shifting to that battlefield urgency I remembered from Fallujah, "Elena Vasquez isn't just some divorce lawyer. She's got contacts in the Family Law division at Camp Lejeune." Papers shuffled audibly. "If Jennifer still has access to her case files, " "Yes sir?" I handed Jennifer the phone, her fingers trembling as they brushed mine. The courtyard wind carried Sarah's muffled laughter from inside, Leah's tentative questions blending with Jennifer's shaky exhale. "Lieutenant," Jennifer whispered, pressing the phone to her ear, "I have Elena's card in my wallet still. She told me to call if...if things got worse." Her fingers dug into the brick behind her, flakes of mortar dusting her sleeve. "But I couldn't afford her retainer after the last custody hearing." "She's covered though, now, if I have to use all of my retirement between our two cases. These kids need a good home, one with her mother, and the other with someone that's not just going to treat her as a troublemaker." Jennifer clutched the phone tighter, her breath fogging against the receiver. "Lieutenant, Elena always said pro bono work kept her sane. If you think she'd..." Her voice cracked as Sarah's laughter drifted through the cracked window, Leah's hesitant giggles threading through like frayed stitches. Craigger's chair creaked through the static. "Ma'am, Elena's got a soft spot for Marines and moms who fight dirty." The line hissed with his sharp exhale. "She kept every case file? Even the sealed ones?" Jennifer's fingers trembled around the phone. "Yes. She...she made me keep copies of everything in a safe deposit box." Her free hand pressed against her sternum, where Sarah's first lost tooth still hung in a locket beneath her sweater. "Even the pediatrician's notes about the UTIs after visitation days." The wind carried Leah's uncertain whisper from inside, "But what if it shows?", followed by Sarah's matter-of-fact response about patterned leggings hiding bulk. Craigger's keyboard clacked sharply through the static. "Ma'am, listen carefully. Elena testified before Congress last year about evidentiary abuse in family courts." His chair creaked. "She'll salivate over this case." Jennifer's fingers spasmed against the phone. I watched realization dawn across her face, the same expression she'd worn earlier when Sarah confessed about hidden diapers. "Lieutenant," she breathed, "you're saying Elena already knows how courts weaponize incontinence reports?" Static crackled through the line. Leah's uncertain whisper drifted from inside, "But what if someone sees?", as Craigger exhaled sharply. "Ma'am, Elena wrote the damn manual on evidentiary abuse in custody cases. She testified before Congress last year about parents falsifying bedwetting logs to gain custody." Papers shuffled violently. "If your ex used Sarah's accidents against you in court, Elena's got precedent to rip that strategy apart." Jennifer's breath hitched. Her fingers dug into the brick wall behind her, mortar dust flecking her sleeve. "Lieutenant, I...I thought she was just being thorough when she made me document every accident for two years." The wind snatched at her words as Sarah's patient explanation floated through the cracked window - "No one sees unless you show them." Static crackled. Craigger's keyboard clacks paused. "Ma'am, Elena didn't just help me pass the bar. She drilled chain of custody protocols into my head until I dreamed about notarized timestamps." His chair creaked with the weight of memory. "If she had you logging soiled underwear like evidence tags, she was building something." Jennifer's fingers twitched against the phone. Inside, Sarah's muffled voice explained something about waistband adjustments while Leah's hesitant "Oh" floated through the warped glass. I watched Jennifer's throat move as she swallowed hard. "Lieutenant," she whispered, "Elena made me photograph every accident for six months. Even..." Her knuckles whitened. "The ones during Sarah's piano recital when her father insisted she drink two milkshakes backstage." "Can I have the phone a sec, Jenny?" I spoke with a pause at first. "Sir? This kind of abuse is actually criminal. The man is setting a kid up to piss her pants every opportunity he gets and he's weakening her bladder. Do you think we could actually take the father out of the picture completely by taking him to criminal trial over what we've learned?" Jennifer's fingers tightened around my wrist as Craigger exhaled sharply through the phone. Static crackled, punctuated by the distant clatter of his keyboard. "Master Guns," he said slowly, "you're talking felony child endangerment under UCMJ Article 119B." His chair creaked ominously. "Especially if he's ex-mil and still subject to jurisdiction." "I never asked, Jenny. Is your ex military?" Jennifer's grip on my wrist slackened slightly, her fingers cold against my skin. "No," she whispered, her breath fogging in the cold air. "But his father was. Colonel Ronald Whittaker, retired Marines." The name landed like a grenade in the quiet courtyard. Static crackled through the phone as Craigger inhaled sharply. "The Civilian courts have a similar law though, don't they sir?" Jennifer's fingers trembled against mine as Craigger exhaled sharply through the phone. Static crackled, punctuated by the distant clatter of his keyboard. "Master Guns," he said slowly, his tone shifting to that battlefield deliberation I remembered from Fallujah, "civilian courts prosecute endangerment under state penal codes. But Elena..." His chair creaked ominously. "Elena knows how to leverage military connections even against civilians." "How far away is Elena? Would it be possible for all of us to meet at the local base here? This Saturday? I can't push Leah's doctor visit more than that because the doctor for our health residence is every week, and she's already showing signs of infection." Jennifer's fingers tightened around the phone, her knuckles pressing white crescents into the plastic. The wind carried Sarah's muffled instructions from inside, something about elastic waistbands, as Jennifer exhaled sharply. "Lieutenant," she began, her voice steadier than I expected, "Elena's office is in San Diego, but she keeps a crash pad near Pendleton for high-profile cases." Her thumb traced the edge of the phone case, chipped from too many nervous drops. "She... she might come if I tell her about the forced hydration." Static crackled through the line. Leah's uncertain whisper drifted from the cracked window - "Why's this part so thick?" - before Craigger's chair creaked audibly. "Ma'am, Elena's been hunting evidentiary abuse cases since her sister got screwed in family court." Papers rustled violently. "Text her the photos of Leah's injuries. Use the word 'hydration logs' in the subject line. She'll move heaven and earth to be there Saturday." "I'm all for the getting her here, but you realize they are two different girls. The hydration logs are from Sarah, my friend's daughter, and Leah is the one that we have pictures of abuse. Just so you are aware, sir. Don't want to lie to my military contacts." Jennifer's breath hitched as she took the phone back, her fingers brushing mine with a tremor. "Lieutenant," she said, her voice steadier now, "Sarah's logs prove a pattern of manipulation. Leah's injuries prove outright abuse." Static crackled in response, followed by the sharp tap of Craigger's pen against his desk. "Ma'am, Elena's specialty is connecting dots judges ignore. If your ex used Sarah's accidents to discredit you in court, and CPS ignored Leah's injuries, " His chair creaked with the weight of implication. The lieutenant promised us access to base and to the JAG office, and he told us to keep with the plan with the pictures and the subject line knowing that Elena will piece it together, so we went to the nursing home again, inside to find the girls and ask the nurse for the pictures or maybe a card with the pictures so we could directly send a message to Elena that moment. Sarah was in the middle of explaining something about diaper tabs when we walked in. The nurse, Linda, was already waiting with a thick envelope, her face grim. "Printed duplicates," she said, pressing the packet into Jennifer's shaking hands. "And the originals are timestamped on the nursing home's security system." "I am going to hold off on Leah seeing the doctor until next week so my military buddy can have the people over there do a thorough investigation on what she has needed and what kind of neglect she's been through. Something about custody of evidence being a possible play if 'evidence' touches too many hands, but he did tell us to send the photos you took to the Attorney that Jennifer said she knew." Linda nodded, pressing the envelope into Jennifer's hands. Jennifer's fingers trembled as she flipped through the photos, Leah's bruised ribs, the old scars along her back, the raw patches on her thighs where restraints had dug in. Her breath hitched. "Jesus," she whispered. Sarah, sitting cross-legged on the couch beside Leah, glanced up. "Mom?" "Sarah, you are both going to be protected by the military now. Your father's lawyer might even be going to jail, if he's not careful. He had broken the law on many occasions with surveillance and with forcing you to drink when you weren't thirsty. And your mom's old lawyer might make it so you won't even have to testify." Sarah's fingers stilled on Leah's diaper tabs, her eyes widening. Leah shrank back slightly, her fingers twisting in the hem of her borrowed shirt. Jennifer sank onto the couch beside them, the envelope crinkling in her grip. "Sweetheart," she murmured, "remember when I told you about Ms. Vasquez? The one who made us take all those pictures?" Sarah nodded slowly, her gaze flicking between her mother and the envelope. Jennifer exhaled shakily, smoothing a hand over Sarah's knee. "She's...she's going to help make sure your father can't use your accidents against us anymore." Her voice cracked. "And she's going to help Leah too." "She's going to use the military, so the civilian authorities cannot bully this case. There might be state corruption, but the state doesn't supersede military authority, and because Mrs. Vasquez has had experience navigating both, she knows how to use both sides against the other." Jennifer's fingers tightened around the envelope, her thumb brushing against the timestamped edge of a photo showing Leah's rib bruises. Sarah leaned closer, peering at the images with a frown. "Mom, why do they look like handprints?" "Because some of them are, baby," I told Sarah. "She's been beaten, bruised, neglected in so many ways, and the state has allowed it. That's why it's important we do this through the military. It's too easy for the state to try to cover it up, but since the military, when it takes over an investigation has authority, they won't be able to shield those that let this happen." Jennifer's fingers traced the edge of one photograph, her throat working silently. Sarah frowned, leaning closer to examine the image. Leah shifted uncomfortably, her fingers twisting in her borrowed shirt. "It's okay, Leah. These photos are NOT your failures, but the failures of those that had an obligation to protect a CHILD." Jennifer reached into her purse with shaking hands, her fingers closing around a cracked leather wallet. She fumbled through worn cards before extracting one with faded ink. "Here," she whispered, pressing it into my palm. "Elena's number. The, the divorce was finalized, but she told me to call if..." Her voice broke as Sarah leaned against her shoulder. I dialed the number. The phone rang twice before a sharp click interrupted. A woman's voice, brisk but warm, answered: "Vasquez." "First name, please, so I know your call wasn't intercepted by a third party. I have evidence on a pet project." This is a friend of an important case your opponents think is closed, but I know you are still investigating more details." Static crackled as Elena Vasquez inhaled sharply. "Jennifer Whittaker's case?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Tell me she hasn't had another CPS visit." I glanced at Jennifer, her fingers digging into Leah's shoulder as Sarah pressed closer to her mother's side. "This might actually be good news if I can have your first name to confirm this is you." I waited for Elena to confirm who it was. "Elena Vasquez," she said firmly. Then, softer: "Is Jennifer okay? Tell me she's not, " The line crackled as Jennifer reached for the phone, her fingers brushing mine. "She's here. I just had to check. There are two problems that we need help with, and both of them are right where you have your target on. But, here, I'll let you talk to Jennifer now." Jennifer took the phone, her fingers trembling against the plastic. "Elena," she whispered, her voice cracking. Static hissed through the line. Sarah pressed closer, her fingers twisting in the hem of Jennifer's sweater. Leah sat frozen beside them, her hands clenched in her lap. Elena's voice sharpened. "Jennifer? What happened?" Jennifer exhaled shakily. "It's Sarah's...accidents. They're still using them against me. And there's another girl, Leah, they've done worse to her." Her fingers whitened around the phone. "Elena, they made Sarah drink until she wet herself during visitation. And Leah, " She swallowed hard. "They tied her down." Static crackled ominously. Elena's exhale was barely audible. "Jennifer, listen carefully. Do you still have the hydration logs from Sarah's pediatrician?" Her chair creaked through the line. "And Leah, photographs, medical records?" Jennifer's grip tightened around the phone. "Yes. Linda, our nurse, timestamped everything on the nursing home's security system." She hesitated, glancing at Leah's hunched shoulders. "But Elena, we can't, " Her voice cracked. "We can't let Leah testify. Not after what they've done to her." Static hissed as Elena exhaled sharply. "Jennifer, listen carefully. You won't have to. Those logs and photos are enough for a subpoena." Her chair creaked with sudden movement. "But I need you to do something first. The hydration logs, were they notarized?" Jennifer's fingers twitched against the phone. "No, just dated and signed by Dr. Martinez." Elena's chair creaked sharply through the static. "That's good enough. Jennifer, listen, " Her voice lowered to a tactical murmur. "I need those logs scanned and timestamped. Every page, every margin note. And Leah's photos - originals only, no copies." Jennifer's fingers tightened around the phone. "Elena, I...I think I still have the notarized copies from our last custody hearing. They're in the safe deposit box." Static crackled as Elena's sharp exhale carried through the line. "Good. Jennifer, I need you to get those today. Don't wait." Her chair creaked with sudden urgency. "And Leah's photos - originals only, no copies. We'll meet Saturday at Pendleton." Jennifer's fingers trembled against the phone. "Elena, I...I don't have access to the box until Friday. Bank policy." Static hissed. Elena's voice sharpened. "Jennifer, listen to me. Those hydration logs are the smoking gun." Her chair creaked with restless energy. "Didn't you tell me Sarah's teacher emailed your ex about her accidents?" Jennifer's fingers dug into the phone. "Yes, but, " She swallowed hard, glancing at Sarah's wide eyes. "Elena, those emails were sealed as part of the custody agreement." Static crackled ominously. Elena's exhale was barely audible. "Jennifer, listen to me carefully. If that teacher violated FERPA by disclosing medical information without your consent, those emails are admissible regardless of the seal." Her chair creaked sharply. "Do you still have copies?" Jennifer's fingers dug into the phone. Sarah shifted against her, sensing the tension. "No," Jennifer whispered. "The judge ordered them destroyed." "If emails were sent from the school, they are never completely destroyed," I told Jennifer. "It's more the matter of getting the Superintendent to release them through a court order, something Vasquez should know about... if the emails were sent from a computer or network belonging to the school, that is." Jennifer blinked at me, her fingers slackening around the phone. "The superintendent..." she murmured. Then, like a struck match, her expression flared with realization. "Wait. The district archives. They keep backups for litigation holds." She gripped the phone tighter, pressing it to her ear. "Elena, what if, what if I subpoenaed the district server logs instead? Would that, " Her voice hitched, catching on something sharp and hopeful. "Would that bypass the destruction order?" Static hissed before Elena responded, her voice crisp with approval. "Jennifer, that's exactly what we'll do. Get me those server timestamps, and I'll have Craigger file the motion before close of business." Her chair creaked decisively. "But first, we need to establish standing. You still have custody paperwork showing Sarah's medical rights weren't waived, correct?" Jennifer's fingers twitched against her purse strap. "The, the divorce decree has a clause about medical decisions." Her voice wavered as she glanced at Sarah's anxious face. "But Elena, what about Leah? She doesn't have, any records of medical guardianship." Static crackled through the line. Elena's response came clipped and precise. "Technically, they should have signed custody to you, Jim, as foster placement. If they didn't, that's our first breach of protocol." Her chair creaked with sudden movement. "Jennifer, check your decree's exhibit B. Does it specify third-party medical disclosures?" Jennifer fumbled through her purse with one hand, the other still gripping Sarah's shoulder. Paper rustled as she pulled out a folded legal document. Leah edged closer on the couch, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her shirt. "Exhibit B, paragraph four," Jennifer read haltingly. "'Neither parent shall disclose minor's medical information without mutual consent or court order.'" Her thumb traced the notary stamp. "But Elena, this is about Sarah. Leah's paperwork, They gave Jim stuff, but it's pretty much just a shit show showing that she's a troublemaker and nothing concrete about her problems or where she came from." Static hissed. Elena's breath came sharp through the phone. "That's better than nothing. Jim, you have Leah's placement forms?" "Nope. He said we'd finish paperwork on his next visit. Honestly, he just dropped the kid off told me she's trouble, and I had drag her name of him before he left. The stuff in the file just tells us what people says about her, but there are no official forms or even anything notorized that I saw. And all the family names she's had before were cross through with solid black to make them unreadable. The only reason she was dropped to me, according to Mr. Snyde, was that no one else would take her." Elena's silence crackled with static. Jennifer's fingers tightened around Sarah's shoulder. Leah shrank deeper into the couch cushions, her breathing shallow. "I know this is an uphill battle, but my fox hole is made and I'm dug in. Just tell what I've got to do, ma'am." Static surged before Elena responded with military precision. "Jim, first thing, photograph every page of Leah's file, including the blacked-out sections under UV light. Those markings might fluoresce." Her chair scraped sharply. "Jennifer, call the superintendent's office, not the secretary, the litigation coordinator. Say you're verifying retention policy compliance for FERPA audits." "Technically, if Leah is not under any guardian, is there something the military can do to give her military protection until such a time that state can legally give her guardianship? She's afraid that Juvie is her next stop." Elena's exhale was sharp through the static. "Jim, you're standing in her file gap. That's our leverage." Paper rustled violently on her end. "Military Protective Orders cover dependents of active personnel. Craigger can fast-track temporary status for Leah under your veteran designation." Her voice dropped to a tactical murmur. "But you need to act before CPS retroactively files paperwork. Photograph her file now." "I'm not active duty. Retired. Five years, ma'am." Elena's reply sliced through the static. "Doesn't matter. JAG Corps Form 114 still applies, emergency designation for dependents of veterans under Title 10." Papers shuffled violently on her end. "Jim, listen carefully. Take Leah to the VA clinic right now. Tell them she's your granddaughter needing triage. They'll document her injuries under federal medical codes, not state CPS." "Got it. Taking her to the base as we speak." You have the phone, Jennifer. Kids, shopping later. I need to get to the base, now." Jennifer nodded, clutching the phone as she guided Sarah toward the door. Leah remained frozen on the couch, her knuckles white against the fabric of her borrowed shirt. I crouched in front of her, keeping my hands visible. "Leah," I said softly, "we're going to take a ride. Somewhere safe. Where they can't take you back. They can't touch you on a base, especially since they have put you in my care. I can still rent lodging on the base for a week at a time, so if we gotta lay low for a bit, that's what we'll do, honey." Her breathing hitched, but she didn’t move. Behind me, Jennifer murmured rapid-fire instructions to Elena, something about subpoenas and server logs. Sarah hovered by the door, her fingers twisting in the hem of her sweater. I lowered my voice. "Leah, listen. Those people who hurt you? They can’t reach you where we’re going. But we have to leave now." Finally, I picked her up. I could tell she was just overwhelmed and all reasoning had shut down. "You ladies need to get the doors for me. She might go violent and start hitting. She's in overload shut down right now." Jennifer grabbed Sarah's hand and rushed ahead to open the front door while I carried Leah toward my truck, her body stiff as a board in my arms. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps against my shoulder. Sarah scrambled into the backseat, her eyes wide as she reached for Leah's hand. "It's okay," she whispered, squeezing Leah's fingers. "Mom says bases have ice cream." "Jennifer, sit in back with your kid. I don't want Leah to sit next to anyone she's going to hit unless it's me. She's panicking right now." Jennifer nodded sharply, guiding Sarah into the middle seat while I buckled Leah's trembling form next to me. The engine roared to life, vibrating through Leah's stiff limbs. In the rearview, Sarah pressed her forehead against the window, whispering street names like a mantra while Jennifer clutched the envelope of photos against her chest. "You grabbed my file of Leah?" I asked Jennifer. "I was so worried about her, I didn't pick it up." Jennifer hesitated for just a second before shaking her head. "No, I just grabbed the photos Linda gave us." "Shoot, I need to go back in and grab the file. It was on the table. I'll be right back. Leah, honey, Sarah is right over there. See her?" Leah's breathing was still ragged, but she turned her head slightly toward Sarah. Sarah leaned forward cautiously, holding out a piece of folded notebook paper. "Here," she murmured. "I drew you a cat while you were sleeping earlier." I ran back in to grab it, and Nurse Linda handed me the card from the camera. "That's got all the originals. You said you needed those." "Thank you. That's what the lawyer asked for. I think it's because they are afraid reprints can be faked." The truck's headlights flickered as I climbed back in, tossing Leah's file onto the dashboard. The manila folder gaped open, revealing the top sheet, a handwritten note in red ink: Noncompliant. Recommend juvenile detention. Sarah's fingers twitched toward it before Jennifer caught her wrist. "That file is just a lot of jargon like I showed you last night. Hidden codes so that laymen don't get it, but lawyers can read between the lines once they understand the system." Sarah's fingers lingered near the folder, her brow furrowing. Leah remained rigid beside me, but her breathing had slowed fractionally. The engine's vibration seemed to steady her, the rhythmic hum cutting through the panic. I turned to Leah. "Baby, we have a two hour trip. I want you to know right now. You have a right to pee, and you are allowed to do it in your pants if need to. No shame. I don't want you to hurt yourself. If you want, I can try to stop, but if I don't stop before you start leaking, you pee your pants, understand, baby?" Her fingers dug into the seat fabric, knuckles whitening. She gave the smallest nod. Jennifer leaned forward between the seats, her voice steady but low. "Jim, Pendleton's gates close at 2100. We'll make it with thirty minutes to spare if traffic stays clear." "I'm retired. I should still be able to get on base anyway, but still, if we don't want to draw attention, I think you're right. We should get there during hours. Sarah, baby, you pee your pants too, honey. We aren't stopping until we get to the base, so just pee. It's too long to have a teenager wait to use the toilet, especially a teen that's been having bladder issues." Sarah's face flushed pink, but she nodded, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. A quiet trickle sounded beneath her as she let go, her shoulders relaxing slightly. The scent of warm urine filled the cab, mingling with the nervous sweat already clinging to Leah's skin. "Grandpa will get you girls something at the PX after we get to the VA clinic so Leah can be checked." Leah stiffened beside me at the word "clinic," her fingers clawing at the seatbelt strap. Jennifer reached forward, pressing a folded diaper discreetly into my hand. "In case," she murmured. I nodded, tucking it between the seats where Leah wouldn't see it trigger her. "Honey, I know," I whispered to Leah. "We have to do this though, and now. We are on a short fuse because as soon as CPS knows what we are doing, they are going to try to get you moved before I can get you out their corrupt hands." The truck's tires hummed against the asphalt as we merged onto the highway, streetlights flickering past in rhythmic intervals. Leah's breathing hitched each time the light passed over her face, her pupils contracting sharply. In the backseat, Sarah shifted uncomfortably in her damp jeans, her fingers tapping an anxious rhythm against her thigh. Jennifer kept her phone pressed to her ear, murmuring fragmented legal phrases to Elena, "subpoena," "server logs," "hydration records", words that carried the weight of futures yet uncharted. "Sarah, do you have a diaper on?" I asked her. "It's okay. Your mom knows, and Leah won't say anything, so it won't hurt if I know. I'm just trying to help, honey. You can say yes, and no one will laugh, but you can say no, too and you won't be scolded. Teens hate diapers, baby." Sarah’s cheeks burned crimson. Her fingers twisted the hem of her wet shirt. A tiny nod. "I was hoping you were, honey. I want you take your jeans off so I can put them on the floor nearer the heater so they will dry before we get to the base. It's not comfortable wearing wet clothes. A diaper makes you more decent is all, so you won't have to worry about me seeing you, that's the real reason I asked." Sarah hesitated, glancing at Jennifer, who gave a tight nod. With trembling fingers, Sarah unbuckled her belt and shimmied out of her damp jeans, folding them awkwardly before passing them forward. I draped them over the heater vent on the passenger side, the wet fabric steaming slightly against the warm air. "One more thing, baby. There should be a blanket under the seat. Remember when you were nine and would wet your pants and I'd tell you to cover up with the blanket? It's still there, sweetheart." Sarah ducked down, rummaging beneath the seat until she pulled out a faded plaid blanket. The fabric smelled faintly of old laundry and childhood. She spread it over her lap, the edges brushing Leah's arm. Leah flinched at first, then relaxed into the contact, her fingers uncurling slightly. "Leah? You too. Take off your pants, honey. I know you're just in panties, but you have the blanket now." Leah froze, her breath hitching. Her fingers dug into the blanket's fabric, knuckles white. Sarah leaned forward cautiously. "She's, she's got a diaper on too, Mr. Greene." Her whisper was barely audible over the road noise. "I helped her put it on earlier when you were talking to Nurse Linda." "Sweetie...," I sighed taking a breath. "You call me Grandpa, Miss. I have told you since you were nine, you are my grandbaby. We don't have to be related for me to be your granddad, and I've changed your pants enough times when you were nine and I had to babysit so mommy could work." Sarah's lips trembled before she whispered, "Yes, Grandpa." "Thank you for telling me, baby. Leah? It's okay you have a diaper on. We'll put your jeans back on you before we get on the base. I know you don't want people to see you wearing it, and that's private. You don't need anyone to see except those that need to to help." Leah's breath shuddered out of her, the tension in her shoulders easing fractionally. The dashboard clock ticked past 7:30 PM as we sped down the highway, the truck's heater humming against the damp fabric draped over the vents. Sarah reached over carefully, tucking the blanket higher around Leah's lap, her fingers lingering just long enough to squeeze reassurance. "I'm sorry I told your daughter to wet her pants, but you're right, if we stop and draw attention to ourselves, who knows if CPS is watching?" Jennifer shook her head, her fingers tightening around the phone. "No, you did right. She's got medical needs too." Static crackled as Elena's voice buzzed through the speaker again, but Jennifer held up a finger, wait. Sarah's breath hitched suddenly, her hands clutching the blanket tighter. A faint crinkling sound came from beneath the fabric. Leah turned her head slightly, staring at Sarah's lap with wide eyes. Sarah's cheeks flushed deeper crimson, but she didn't move, just let the warmth spread beneath the blanket. "All the way," I told Sarah. "Once it starts leaking, it's too late, and we don't want you hurting yourself, baby. You know it's okay, right?" Sarah nodded, her fingers gripping the blanket's edge. A small whimper escaped Leah as she watched Sarah's subtle movements beneath the fabric. The scent of urine grew stronger in the cab, mingling with the nervous sweat and vinyl seats. Jennifer reached back, rubbing Sarah's knee through the blanket without a word. We were about half an hour from the gate, when I smelled something stronger than pee from one of the girls, and some sniffling like silent crying. "Sarah, honey, you okay?" Jennifer twisted in her seat, blanket rustling as she lifted the edge. The cab's dome light flickered on briefly, illuminating Sarah's tear-streaked face and the dark stain spreading across the blanket's underside. Sarah's breath hitched violently. "I, I didn't mean to, " she whispered, fingers digging into the vinyl seat. "Honey, I thought you already peed earlier," I said keeping my tone low and friendly. "I told you it's okay to wet your pants, honey. Your a teenager and you have bladder issues. If it leaked, the seats been wet on before, baby." Sarah shook her head violently, her fingers twisting in the blanket. The smell intensified, sharp and unmistakable. Jennifer's hand froze mid-reach. Leah recoiled against the passenger door, her eyes wide. "Baby? You are a young teenager. Everyone in the car knows you didn't do any pottying in your pants on purpose, especially pooping, okay? I know we can't stop just yet. It's not your fault, sweetheart." Sarah's breath came in ragged gulps as she pressed her knees together under the blanket, her shoulders hunched forward. The truck's interior light flickered off, leaving only the glow of the dashboard illuminating her tear-streaked face. Jennifer reached back slowly, her fingers brushing Sarah's wrist. "Honey, breathe. We'll get cleaned up at the base." "You have a clean diaper for her, don't you" I asked Jennifer. "Just try to clean her up right now. She's too old to want to wait like that. Poor kid. Give the phone to Leah. She can at least hear what's going on if something is important." Jennifer passed the phone forward, her fingers shaking slightly against Leah's palm. Static crackled as Elena's urgent voice came through, something about pending motions and military jurisdiction, but Leah barely reacted, her gaze fixed on Sarah's hunched form in the backseat. Jennifer reached beneath the seat, pulling out a plastic bag with a fresh diaper and wipes. The crinkling sound made Sarah flinch. "Hold the phone to me, baby," I instructed Leah. "The attorney needs to know there's a situation so we can't hear her right now." Leah pressed the phone to my ear mechanically, her fingers trembling. Static crackled as Elena's sharp voice cut through, something about emergency filings, but the words blurred against Sarah's muffled sobs. Jennifer had the diaper unfolded now, the tabs pulled free with a soft ripping sound. Sarah whimpered, her hands clutching the soiled blanket tighter. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but you need to repeat what you said over the last two minutes, and you need to wait another moment. We had an incident in the car with one of the kids. You know. Because of their problems. I'm driving, so my daughter is holding the phone to me, but technically it's still phone use, so I will have to have her take it back until Jenny can talk again." Elena's voice snapped through the static. "Understood. Prepare Leah's military ID photos at the clinic. Craigger filed Form 114." The line hissed as Jennifer peeled back the blanket in the backseat, revealing Sarah's curled form. Leah flinched at the sudden movement, the phone slipping in her grip. I caught it just as Jennifer murmured, "Sweetheart, lift up," her hands gentle beneath Sarah's hips. "Sarah," I sighed. "It's okay. It's not much different than wetting, honey. It just needs to be cleaned up so you stay healthy. I don't care if a little got on the seat, as long as you are healthy, baby." Sarah’s shoulders shook violently as Jennifer worked, the wet wipes leaving cool streaks against her skin. Leah stared at the phone pressed to my ear, her fingers twitching like she wanted to drop it but didn’t dare. Elena’s voice buzzed again, distant and urgent. "Elena, I need you to slow down," I said, watching Jennifer press a fresh diaper beneath Sarah’s trembling hips. "We’re handling a situation here. Say again about the photos." Leah’s breath hitched beside me as Sarah let out a small, mortified cry. The diaper tapes hissed against the fabric, too loud in the tight space. Jennifer murmured something about rashes, her hands steady despite the tension in her jaw. Elena’s clipped response finally registered: "Base ID requires full biometrics. They’ll expedite if Leah’s documented as active-duty dependent." "I don't know how to get active-duty on file this fast. Remember, I'm retired. If you have a way to pull it off, I'm all ears." The truck's headlights illuminated the first Pendleton road sign, 20 miles. Sarah sniffled quietly behind me, her freshly diapered form shifting under the blanket. Jennifer smoothed Sarah's hair back, her fingers lingering at her daughter's temple. Leah remained statue-still beside me, her fingers now gripping the seatbelt like it might strangle her if she let go. Elena's voice crackled through the phone. "Jim, listen carefully. There's a loophole, Article 134. Leah qualifies as a dependent under emergency provisions if we classify her as your ward under military protection. Craigger's already filed the preliminary paperwork." "Okay. He's forwarding that to the base hospital for us then? So do I check in with VA or the base hospital?" The phone crackled as Elena hesitated. "Neither yet. Head straight to the Provost Marshal's office first, they'll need Leah's biometrics before medical will process her." Leah flinched at her name, her nails digging crescent moons into the vinyl seat. Ahead, the highway exit loomed, its green sign reflecting neon in the rain-slicked pavement. "Okay, headed for the new destination first. We might need to head to the PX. Two wet girls need clean pants," I told Elena. We'll get to the Provost Marshal's office first, but after that, we need to hit the PX before it closes to get them clothes." Sarah sniffled quietly, her fingers clutching the fresh diaper beneath the blanket. Leah remained rigid beside me, her breath shallow. Jennifer exhaled sharply into the phone. "Elena, are you hearing this? Those girls need clean clothes before they'll consent to medical exams." Static hissed. Then: "PX closes at 2100. Provost Marshal first, priority. Have Sarah assist Leah through processing if separation occurs." Shit, cutting it close. I will have to drop them and hope I make it to the PX, otherwise, we can't do medical until tomorrow. They'd be too ashamed to be seen in wet pants." The truck's engine growled as I took the exit too fast, tires squealing against wet pavement. Leah jerked forward against her seatbelt, her hands flying up to brace herself. Sarah whimpered from the backseat, the sound muffled beneath the blanket. Jennifer twisted to check on her, but I couldn't look away from the road, base gates loomed ahead, their floodlights casting harsh shadows across the checkpoint. "Privates! Get over here and check my ID. Now. I'm on a schedule. Please." I called at the gate guards. The MP stiffened at my tone, his flashlight beam cutting across the windshield before landing on my retired ID card. His eyes flicked to the backseat where Sarah's tear-streaked face peered from beneath the blanket. Leah had gone completely still beside me, her fingers locked around the seatbelt like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. "The girls in the back are not your concern, soldier. I am. If my ID is valid, and we are at peace time, then you have to allow them on base. You know that." The MP hesitated, his flashlight beam lingering on Sarah's tear-streaked face. Jennifer leaned forward, blocking his view. "My daughter has a medical condition," she said, voice low but firm. "This is a legal transport." "And none of your Goddamn business," I harped. "Who is your unit commander. I'll let him know how a Master Sargeant's family was treated at the gate!" The MP's jaw clenched, but he stepped back with a sharp nod. The barrier lifted with a hydraulic whine. We rolled forward onto base property, the truck's tires humming against the freshly paved road. Sarah's sniffles quieted in the backseat, though I could still see her fingers twisting the blanket edge in the rearview mirror. Leah remained frozen beside me, her breath coming in shallow bursts. "Put your pants back on, girls. You need to wear something into the processing. Jennifer, take my ID with you. If I need help, I'll call the office and they'll verify me. You are to say you are my sister-in-law. Got it?" Jennifer nodded, tucking my ID into her bra for safekeeping. Sarah fumbled with her damp jeans, her fingers shaking as she pulled them over the fresh diaper. Leah remained motionless, staring at the Provost Marshal's office looming ahead. The fluorescent lights inside cast long shadows of uniformed personnel moving briskly past the windows. "Jennifer, if we are getting them clothes I need to go now. You get Leah's pants back on her, okay? Craigger should have already sent information forward, so they shouldn't give you much trouble." Jennifer nodded, reaching for Leah's jeans with careful hands. Leah recoiled against the seat, her breath coming in sharp bursts. Sarah reached over hesitantly, her fingers brushing Leah's wrist. "It's okay," she murmured, voice barely audible over the idling engine. "You can keep the blanket over your lap while I help." "Sorry, baby. Grandpa has to go now. Take the blanket and got in the office, honey. You can hide in the toilets to get your pants back on if you want." The truck door creaked as I pushed it open, the humid base air rushing in, thick with jet fuel and damp concrete. Leah’s fingers twitched toward me like she wanted to grab my sleeve but stopped herself. Jennifer squeezed Sarah’s shoulder before stepping out, her boots hitting the pavement with a sharp tap. "Grandpa will be right there as soon as I can, baby. I just need to get you girls some clean clothes. You'll feel better in dry clothes." Sarah nodded stiffly, the blanket draped over her lap like a shield. Leah remained frozen in the passenger seat, her fingers curled into the vinyl seat. I turned the ignition off, leaving the keys in Jennifer's palm. The dashboard clock read 8:37 PM, twenty-three minutes to get to the PX before closing. "You don't have the right to go to the PX alone because you're not direct line family," I sighed. "Come on, Leah. I carried her Leah and brought the girls to the closest girls' restroom. "Male entering!" I called out and then I put Leah down near Jennifer. "Let her help with your pants, honey. I will be right back, promise." With that, I hurried away knowing that just staying and promising more would only cause more anxiety. The PX loomed ahead, its fluorescent lights harsh against the night sky. My boots slapped against the pavement as I jogged toward the entrance. A young clerk glanced up from her phone as I burst through the doors, already scanning the aisles for girls' clothing. The scent of new fabric and cleaning products hit me, too sterile, too impersonal for what these kids needed. "Excuse me, I know you are closing soon, so you don't want me spending an hour looking for what I need, and I don't have time to do that, anyway. I need girls' clothes, kids age 13, panties, socks, pants and shirts. Now. Can you tell where to go so we don't waste each other's time?" I was talking to a younger person, maybe a dependent of a military person who sometimes got jobs there. The clerk blinked, her gum snapping once before she nodded toward the back corner. "Youth sizes, aisle twelve. Undergarments are in the, " she hesitated, "the middle section by fitting rooms." "Sorry, grandchildren. They are too embarrassed to come in. Girl stuff, you understand." The clerk nodded slowly, her gaze flicking toward the closed bathroom door. She hesitated before grabbing a basket. "Follow me." We moved fast, past rows of camo and regulation boots, the scent of starch and shoe polish thick in the air. Aisle twelve loomed ahead, neon signs marking girls' sizes. My fingers brushed against hangers, grabbing anything soft-looking in Sarah's size. Jeans with elastic waists, cotton tees, socks with cartoon cats. The clerk tossed in a pack of plain underwear without comment. "Anything else?" she asked, already steering me toward checkout. "Just one thing... bedwetting diapers for teens?" The clerk's expression didn't flicker. She led me to a discreet shelf near the pharmacy section, grabbing a pack with purple trim. "Discreet shipping labels," she murmured, tossing them into the basket. The digital clock above the register blinked 8:51 PM as she scanned the items, the beeps unnaturally loud in the empty store. My fingers drummed against the counter, picturing Leah's frozen posture in that restroom stall. I gave her ten dollars too much, but left before she could give me the change, the least I could do for making her work until the last minute on her clock. Then I raced for where I dropped them. Besides, it was also a bit of a selfish reason. I didn't want to wait for them to count change knowing my baby was scared. Sarah was pacing nervously outside the restroom when I got back, her freshly diapered form visible under her loose jeans. She froze when she saw me, relief flashing across her face before she glanced back toward the restroom door. "Leah won't come out," she whispered. "She keeps saying she'll get in trouble." "Did she wet her pants or something again?" I asked. "Poor kid. I'll talk to her." Sarah shook her head, biting her lip. "No, she...she didn't go at all. Just keeps saying she's bad." I sighed. I walked in announcing myself and looked where it made most sense she would be hiding. "Leah? Grandpa's back. Come here, honey." Silence. Then a muffled sniffle from the last stall. The scent of bleach and damp paper towels clung to the air. I knelt by the stall door, the new clothes crinkling in my arms. "Baby, I got you dry pants. Sarah's dressed already. You're not in trouble. Grandpa decides when you are in trouble now, honey. No one else as long as you are with Grandpa." Leah's whisper was so thin I almost missed it. "They'll smell it." "The only people that will smell what happened, honey, if you are scared you wet or worse, are people helping us. CPS isn't allowed on the base unless they are escorted." The stall door creaked open an inch. Leah’s pale fingers curled around the edge, her nails bitten raw. Her eyes darted past me to where Sarah stood shifting from foot to foot by the sinks. "See? Just Sarah and me in here. Sarah? Did your mom go talk to the officer in charge so he knows what's up?" Sarah nodded quickly, her hands twisting in the hem of her new shirt. "She said she'd get everything set up for Leah's paperwork." The words tumbled out too fast, her gaze flicking to Leah's trembling fingers still gripping the stall door. "Baby, the people that need to know, already know you pee your pants here. There has been a motion of events in place since we talked to the nurse earlier. We've been setting things up so you can be safe. The doctors that need to know, know you are wetting and know that it's because you need help, the reason we are here to start with." Leah's breath hitched, her fingers tightening on the stall door until her knuckles whitened. Sarah stepped closer, her socked feet silent on the tile floor. "I peed mine too," she admitted softly. "Right before we got here. That's why Grandpa got us both new pants." "Sarah sweetie pooped, remember?" I told Leah. "She knows it's okay. Her mom isn't mad at her, and no one cares about dirty diapers. We care more about how you two feel, okay?" No one gets in trouble for having potty accidents. Especially two teens on the road for two hours without a chance to stop." Leah's fingers trembled against the stall door. A drop of water fell from the faucet behind us, the sound echoing in the sterile silence. Sarah shuffled closer, her socks damp where they peeked out from her jeans. "I messed mine worse," she murmured, her cheeks flushing pink. "Grandpa didn't even blink." "Now, Sarah, did you change your pants yet and your socks and everything? I got you the whole nine years including panties to go over diapers and everything. The only thing I might have missed is a bra for either of you." Sarah shook her head quickly, her fingers clutching the plastic bag I handed her. "No, Grandpa, I... I just put the jeans on over my diaper." Her whisper was barely audible. "Mom said I could wait until we get to the hospital." "If you want to change everything at the hospital that's fine. We already have you in a clean diaper from earlier. But Leah, you need changed. Your diaper is still wet, baby." Leah made a soft noise, something between a whimper and a sigh. The stall door eased open another inch, revealing her hunched form perched on the toilet seat, knees drawn up protectively. Her sweatpants were soaked through, clinging to her thighs. The scent of urine mixed with the sharp hospital-grade cleaner made my eyes sting. "You peed again," I smiled at her lovingly. "I'm glad you peed, honey. I hope you went all the way. Remember? We don't want you to hurt yourself, so wetting your pants is better than holding it past leaking." Sarah reached into the plastic bag and pulled out a fresh diaper, the purple trim catching the fluorescent light. "I'll help," she whispered, holding it out toward Leah like an offering. The crinkling sound made Leah flinch, but she didn't retreat further into the stall. "Make it fast. She was supposed to see the Provost Marshal already." The words came from Jennifer’s voice just outside the restroom door, sharp with urgency. Sarah froze, the diaper crinkling in her hands. Leah’s breath hitched, she looked toward the sound like a cornered animal assessing escape routes. "Leah," I said softly, crouching to her eye level. "Sarah’s gonna help you change real quick. Then we’ll go meet the nice officer who’s gonna make sure nobody can take you away. Just dry pants first, okay?" Leah’s fingers dug into her wet sweatpants, but she gave the tiniest nod. Sarah stepped forward with the diaper, her movements careful like she was handling something fragile. The stall door creaked wider as Leah shifted stiffly, her soaked fabric sticking audibly when she peeled the waistband down. The smell of ammonia sharpened briefly before dissipating into the sterile air. Sarah didn’t flinch. She unfolded the diaper with practiced hands, smoothing it onto the closed toilet seat before helping Leah step into it. Leah’s breath hitched when Sarah touched her hip to guide her, but she didn’t pull away. "There," Sarah murmured, fastening the sides with a quiet *rip* of the adhesive tabs. "Now the pants." She handed Leah the fresh jeans, their tags still dangling from the hem. Leah’s fingers trembled as she fumbled with the button. Sarah hesitated, then reached over to help, her knuckles brushing Leah’s stomach. Leah recoiled, but only halfway, catching herself. A shudder ran through her as the new denim settled over her hips, the fabric stiff and unfamiliar. "Socks too," I said, pulling out the pair with cartoon cats. Sarah knelt without hesitation, rolling them onto Leah’s damp feet. Outside, Jennifer’s heel tapped impatiently against the tile floor. "Jim, " she started, but I cut her off with a look. Leah flinched at the exchange, her shoulders hunching. Sarah slipped her hand into Leah’s, squeezing once. The contact was brief, but Leah didn’t pull away this time. "You got her?" Jennifer asked, her voice softer now. Sarah nodded, adjusting the hem of Leah’s new shirt where it bunched at her waist. The fluorescent lights caught the faint tremor in Leah’s fingers as she gripped Sarah’s sleeve. Jennifer exhaled through her nose, her gaze flicking toward the hallway where military personnel passed in crisp uniforms. "Okay," she murmured, more to herself than us. "Let’s move." I took point, my boots scuffing against the linoleum as we navigated the maze of bureaucratic corridors. Leah’s breathing hitched every time we passed a uniformed figure, her steps faltering until Sarah’s whispered reassurances urged her forward. The scent of industrial cleaner and gun oil clung to the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of Leah’s fear. Provost Marshal’s office. The plaque gleamed under harsh overhead lights. A sergeant glanced up from his computer, his gaze lingering on Leah’s death-grip on Sarah’s wrist. Jennifer stepped forward, her voice steady as she slid Jim’s military ID across the counter. "Emergency dependent status," she said, fingers tapping the thick file beneath it. "Article 134." The sergeant’s eyebrows lifted. He flipped open the folder, scanning the top page, Linda’s medical notes, timestamped photos of Leah’s bruises. His jaw tightened. Behind me, Leah made a sound like a whimper trapped in her throat. Sarah shifted closer, her shoulder pressing against Leah’s. "That's my ID," I informed the Sergeant. I lent it to Jennifer for a moment so she could get the girls in her because I had to get something at the PX for the kids. But if you look in your records incoming for today, you should see a priority to give my new granddaughter priority military dependent status." The Sergeant studied the laminated card, then tapped his keyboard with deliberate keystrokes. The printer hummed to life behind him, spitting out forms. "Master Sergeant Greene," he acknowledged, his tone shifting from bureaucratic to professional respect. "Your DD-214’s already flagged in the system. Lieutenant Craigger called ahead." "Are we set to go get her checked in with medical so that they can do a work up on her abuse?" I asked. "The system of foster care has allowed her to be abused and has done little to mitigate her abuse, even upon having a chance to realize it. So that's why we are moving forward on this before the corrupt State can cover their ass when they know they've wronged a child." The sergeant hesitated, glancing at Leah's hunched shoulders and Sarah's protective stance beside her. "Master Sergeant, I can process her status, but medical will require, " he lowered his voice, "a full forensic exam." "Yes, that's supposed to be getting set up. It needs to be implemented as quickly as possible, but also with the upmost respect to the sensibility of a child that maybe have been abused in several different ways, likely a different way from different people?" Sarah made a noise like a wounded bird, her fingers tightening around Leah's wrist. Leah didn't react, her gaze fixed on some middle distance point between the sergeant's shoulder and the American flag pinned to the wall. "I believe your office is just supposed to get us a card so she can receive benefits on base. Sorry, I'm a little ahead of myself. Trying to keep straight all the steps, but yes, you are just getting her set up with ID, right?" The sergeant nodded, his fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard. The printer spat out a temporary ID card with Leah's hastily taken photo, her expression blank, eyes hollow, from the base system. He slid it across the counter along with Jim's military ID. "This grants her PX and commissary privileges until her full documentation clears. Medical's expecting you in Building 14." "Thank you. That's what I was trying to remember to ask you, is where. Thanks for your help. Also, I need to set this other little lady up with permission to see a base doctor. She's my sister in law's child! Another case, but one that Craigger and Vasquez know about." The sergeant hesitated, glancing at Sarah's damp socks peeking from her jeans. "Same process," he said, sliding another form across the counter. Jennifer filled it out with quick strokes while Sarah swayed on her feet, her diaper making a faint crinkle under her new jeans. "Thank you, sir. We appreciate all of your help." And with that, Jim took his brood out to his truck. "I need to drive. There are some strict places you can and cannot enter, so it's easiest if I drive, Jenny." Jenny nodded and opened the passenger door for Sarah, before helping Leah into the middle seat. She gently buckled Leah's seatbelt for her, and Leah seemed to tolerate it, if only barely. I started the engine. "Sarah, that card is very limited. I will allow you Youth Center access, PX privileges and Medical access, but you must not ever try to use it on base without my presence. Your mom can't get one because technically, your card expires once the military is done helping you and your mom out. Leah's will be more permanent, but she still is restricted to being with a military person having to be with her such as myself or someone I allow to watch her who is military." Sarah nodded solemnly, her fingers tracing the edges of her temporary ID card. Leah sat rigid between us, clutching her card so tightly the plastic creaked. The truck's heater hummed against the February chill, but neither girl seemed to notice the warmth. We arrived at the hospital building and eventually found pediatrics. I looked through the notes we took from Vasquez and Craigger to make sure we found the right doctor. Leah was quiet, barely reacting when we walked into the pediatric ward, but her grip on Sarah's hand turned white-knuckled when a nurse approached with a clipboard. The scent of antiseptic and baby powder hung thick in the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of Leah's fear. Sarah leaned into her shoulder, whispering something about crayons in the waiting area. "Master Sergeant Greene?" The pediatrician, Dr. Rosario according to her badge, scanned our faces, pausing at Leah's hunched posture. Her gaze flicked down to Sarah's damp socks, then back up with professional neutrality. "Lieutenant Craigger called ahead. We have a private exam room prepped." "Can we start with Sarah? If Leah sees you are not hurting her, then she maybe less trouble for you. She's traumatized and shuts down if pushed too far." Dr. Rosario's pen paused over her clipboard. "Of course." She gestured toward an alcove with cartoon animal decals on the wall. Sarah hesitated, glancing at Leah's frozen posture before stepping forward. The doctor knelt, speaking too softly for us to hear, but Sarah nodded and lifted her shirt hem just enough to reveal the waistband of her diaper. The crinkling sound made Leah flinch. "You have all the files relevant to her medical?" I asked Jenny. "They will need that information so they can assess the damage done to her from your ex's abuse to her." Sarah turned her head away as Dr. Rosario peeled back the waistband of her diaper, her cheeks flaming. The doctor's expression remained neutral, but I saw the tightening around her eyes when she noted the chafing marks. "These are recent," she murmured, glancing at Sarah's trembling hands. "When was the last bowel movement?" "She just pooped her pants in the car on our way here. We had to rush here, so couldn't stop. Poor teen tried to not do it, but you know... teens especially when they are hurting like these kids are, we told them it was okay to happen." Sarah's breath hitched at the admission, fingers twisting in her shirt hem. Dr. Rosario's gloved hand hovered near Sarah's hip, avoiding contact. "I'm going to clean you up properly," she said, voice low and steady. "Then we'll get you into something dry." Leah's choked gasp cut through the antiseptic air. She'd inched forward without realizing it, her terror momentarily overridden by horrified fascination as the nurse unfolded a fresh diaper. The crinkling sound made both girls stiffen. Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, tears leaking down her cheeks as the doctor worked efficiently, wiping tender skin with warmed wipes from a wall-mounted dispenser. "Breathe, Sarah," Jennifer murmured, her hand hovering near her daughter's shoulder without touching. Sarah obeyed with a shuddering inhale, her ribs expanding under the oversized hospital gown they'd draped over her. Leah's fingers twitched toward her own damp jeans, her trauma responses visibly warring with this new evidence that medical care didn't have to hurt. Dr. Rosario's hands moved with practiced precision, applying barrier cream to inflamed skin. "Your mom mentioned you've been having accidents since the custody hearings," she said, her tone devoid of pity. Sarah's nod was barely perceptible. The doctor glanced at Leah's frozen posture. "Both of you should know, this is neurological. Not behavioral." "For Sarah, right?" I asked. "It's brought on by trauma from being told to do things that are not natural, right? Sorry, I'm a nurse aid at a nursing home, so I know a little too much, but yet, so little I can only guess at things." Dr. Rosario’s fingers paused over Sarah’s diaper tabs. "Stress-induced encopresis," she confirmed, peeling the adhesive gently. "Common in cases of prolonged coercion around bodily functions." Sarah flinched at the clinical terms, but the doctor continued, her voice softer now. "Your body’s reacting to being forced to override its natural signals." "Wait, that sounds like Sarah poops her pants more than I realized. I thought she was just normally wetting, and the pooping in her pants in the car was a one thing off from waiting too long?" Jennifer's lips pressed into a thin line as she answered for Sarah, who was too humiliated to speak. "It's been... intermittent. Sometimes she doesn't feel the urge until it's too late. Other times she holds it until, " She broke off as Sarah whimpered, fresh tears dripping onto the exam table paper. "Grandbaby? You know no one is judging you, right? I was just misinformed about the severity of what that man did to you, honey. You're not in trouble, and no one blames you." Sarah's shoulders curled inward, her fingers plucking at the hem of her diaper while Dr. Rosario continued cleaning her with warmed disposable cloths. The scent of aloe and zinc ointment mixed with antiseptic as she worked, her movements methodical but unhurried. Leah stood rigid near the door, her breathing shallow, until Sarah reached for her hand without looking. Leah's fingers twitched, then grasped Sarah's in a grip so tight their knuckles blanched. "It's okay," Sarah whispered, her voice frayed but steady. "She's not... she's not like them." The doctor pretended not to hear, focusing instead on adjusting Sarah's fresh diaper, this one plain white, without the purple trim, while Jennifer hovered nearby, her jaw clenched. Dr. Rosario snapped off her gloves. "Sarah, I need you to drink this." She held out a small cup of electrolyte solution, its faint citrus scent cutting through the medicinal air. Sarah sipped obediently, her throat working as she swallowed. The doctor turned to Leah, who shrank back against the wall. "Your turn," she said, not unkindly, but Leah shook her head violently, her matted hair swinging. "She's scared of doctors. The first thing she said last night when I mentioned today's plans, was she didn't want to see a doctor. I think someone claiming to be a doctor did things that doctors don't do." Dr. Rosario's pen hovered over her clipboard. Her eyes flicked to Leah's clenched fists, the way she pressed herself into the corner like a trapped animal. Without moving closer, she set the clipboard down and reached for a stethoscope hanging nearby, but stopped when Leah flinched at the motion. "Okay," she said slowly. "No touching today. Let's just talk." "Can we try to introduce ourselves, honey? Let's start easy, okay?" I reached out to hold her hand. "Remember, we need them to do these tests first thing so we can start making you healthy again, and so you don't have to see people like the people that tied you up and whipped you." Leah's breath hitched at the mention of whips. Her fingers curled into Sarah's sleeve, her knuckles whitening. Dr. Rosario noticed, her gaze flicking to Leah's arms where old scars peeked beneath her sleeves. She didn't comment, just pulled a stool closer and sat without looming. "Leah," she said evenly, "I need you to know something. In this room, you say stop, we stop. Immediately. No arguing, no tricks. Your word is law here." Sarah squeezed Leah's hand, her own fingers trembling. "She means it," she whispered. "I said stop when the wipe stung, and she stopped." Leah's nostrils flared as she inhaled sharply, her chest rising and falling too fast. Dr. Rosario kept her palms visible on her knees. "First rule, no gowns unless you want one. Second rule, you keep your clothes on unless you choose otherwise." She gestured to a folded towel on the counter. "Today, we're just going to check your hands and listen to your lungs. No touching anywhere else." Leah's breathing slowed fractionally. Sarah nudged her forward half a step, their socked feet shuffling over the sterile floor. The doctor waited, then reached slowly for Leah's wrist. Leah jerked back with a gasp, colliding with the wall. "Sweetie, she just wants to see your wrist, that's all. May I touch and show her, honey? No arms or legs unless you say so." Dr. Rosario withdrew instantly when Leah recoiled, her hands retreating to her lap as if burned. Sarah, sensing Leah's hesitation, gently turned Leah's palm upward and extended her own wrist toward the doctor. "See? Just pulse," she murmured, her voice cracking. The doctor placed two fingers lightly on Sarah's thin wrist, counting silently while Leah watched with narrowed eyes. After a moment, Sarah guided Leah's trembling hand forward again. This time, Leah allowed it, her breath hitching when Dr. Rosario's cool fingertips brushed her skin, but she didn't pull away. The doctor's touch was feather-light, clinical, her fingers barely grazing Leah's racing pulse before withdrawing. "Good," Dr. Rosario said softly. "Now lungs. May I lift your shirt just enough to place the stethoscope?" Leah's fingers curled into Sarah's sleeve again, her nails digging through the fabric. I saw Sarah wince but she didn't pull back. "Only if you say yes," Sarah whispered. "And only where she said." The stethoscope dangled from Dr. Rosario's neck like a silver snake. Leah stared at it, her breathing shallow. "She...she won't..." Leah's voice was hoarse from disuse, cracking on the words. "No," the doctor confirmed. "I won't move your clothes unless you guide them yourself. Here." She slid the stethoscope across the counter toward Leah, who flinched at the metallic scrape. Sarah picked it up first, pressing the cold disc to her own chest with exaggerated movements. Leah's fingers twitched. She reached out, brushing the tubing like it might bite. Sarah guided it into her palm, wrapping Leah's stiff fingers around the diaphragm. "You do it," Sarah murmured. "Only where you want." "Sarah, the doctor will need to hear specific places, but that's a good compromise that she moves it as the doctor asks, and she can choose not to put it where she's not comfortable, for this session." I looked at the doctor. "Right?" Dr. Rosario nodded, adjusting her stool to stay at Leah's eye level. "Front or back first, Leah? Your choice." Leah's fingers tightened around the stethoscope, her breathing ragged. She glanced at Sarah, who gave an encouraging nod, then pointed stiffly at her own collarbone. The doctor didn't move, just tilted her head slightly. "Good. Now lift your shirt just enough for the disc to fit under. Take your time." The fabric rustled as Leah inched her shirt up with trembling hands, exposing a sliver of pale, scarred skin above her waistband. Sarah guided the stethoscope into position, her own hands shaking against Leah's. The cold metal touched flesh and Leah froze, her pupils dilating, but she held still. "Breathe normally," Dr. Rosario instructed, her voice low and steady. The stethoscope amplified Leah's jagged breaths, too fast, too shallow. The doctor listened without moving, her gaze fixed on a point just past Leah's shoulder to avoid direct eye contact. "Good. Now the other side." Leah's fingers twitched toward Sarah again, her knuckles white around the tubing. Sarah helped guide the disc to the opposite side of Leah's ribcage, her own breath hitching when she glimpsed the lattice of old scars beneath Leah's shirt. The smell of antiseptic couldn't mask the sour tang of fear-sweat rising from Leah's skin. Dr. Rosario kept perfectly still, her stethoscope barely grazing Leah's body. "Deep breath in," she murmured. Leah obeyed with a shuddering inhale that hitched halfway. The doctor's brow furrowed slightly at the wet, uneven sounds in Leah's lungs. "Again, please." Sarah squeezed Leah's fingers tighter when she hesitated. "Like this," Sarah whispered, taking an exaggerated breath that made her ribs expand visibly under her hospital gown. Leah mimicked her with a shaky inhale that dissolved into a cough halfway through. The sound was rough, painful, like dragging gravel through tissue paper. Dr. Rosario's expression didn't change, but her fingers twitched toward her clipboard. "One more deep breath, Leah." Sarah leaned closer, demonstrating another exaggerated inhale, just as Leah's body stiffened violently. A wet, squelching sound filled the room, followed immediately by the unmistakable stench of bowel movement. Leah's face contorted in horror as warmth spread beneath her sweatpants, her fingers clawing at Sarah's wrist hard enough to leave crescent marks. "No, no, not again, " Leah's voice shattered into gasping sobs. Her legs trembled violently, knees buckling as she crumpled against Sarah, who barely caught her weight. The doctor didn't react to the spreading stain, just scooted her stool back to give them space. Leah clawed at her sweatpants, desperate to hide the mess even as it soaked through the fabric. "They'll make me, they always, " Her words dissolved into incoherent weeping, her whole body shaking so hard Sarah had to grip both shoulders to steady her. The stench of urine and feces mingled with antiseptic as Leah's bladder kept releasing in pulses, the warm trickle audible against the tile floor. I ran up and picked my baby up. "It's okay, Leah. It's okay. Grandpa's got you baby. Grandpa's got you.!" I put her in my lap and started rocking her despite her getting me all wet and muddy from her bowl and bladder loss of control. "Remember? Don't hold it, honey. All out. We don't want you to hurt yourself. It's okay, baby." Sarah moved in front of Leah, blocking her from view as much as possible while Jennifer grabbed a stack of paper towels from the dispenser. Dr. Rosario stayed perfectly still, her gaze fixed on her clipboard as if documenting the ceiling tiles. Leah's sobs hitched violently, her fingers clawing at my shirt as her body kept betraying her with fresh wet warmth spreading down my thighs. I said in a low voice, as I rubbed my baby's back. "You see what happens when she's having a body betrayal? I know teens don't just wet themselves, but this is beyond teen mortification. This is... fear," I told the doctor. I kept whispering to Leah as I felt her pee slow. "Keep peeing baby. All out. No one is mad. No one can hurt you. No one is going to shame you, baby." Leah's whole body shuddered against me, her fingers digging into my arms like she was drowning. Her tears soaked through my shirt as she gasped between sobs, her voice breaking into jagged fragments. "They, they made me, stand in front, of everyone, last time, " Each word was wrenched from her throat like shrapnel. Her bladder gave another weak spurt, warmth spreading between us as she curled tighter into my chest. "Baby? No one does that to you anymore. That's why we're here. So we protect you from pigs like that. If the school so much as suggests you stand up in peed pants, you tell grandpa. I won't put up with that shit from anyone, okay? You're my grandbaby now. The State gave you to me and I'm not giving you back. You're my baby, now." Leah's breath hitched, her face buried against my shoulder as her body continued to empty itself against my lap. The smell was overwhelming, ammonia and fear-sweat and the sharp tang of fresh bowel movement, but I didn't flinch. Sarah pressed a towel against Leah's soaked sweatpants, her own hands shaking as she murmured, "It's okay, it's just us," over and over. Dr. Rosario remained motionless, her clipboard lowered, her face carefully neutral as Leah's sobs echoed off the sterile walls. "This...," I whispered to the doctor. "It's psychological abuse, isn't it? Something we can prove is real in a child that shouldn't have that kind of fear?" Dr. Rosario nodded, her pen tapping lightly against the clipboard. "Encopresis and enuresis under extreme distress, classic trauma responses." Her voice was low, clinical, but her fingers whitened around the pen. "But the fear of public humiliation suggests deliberate conditioning." "Exactly what I mean. I've heard foster kids sometimes wet themselves out of fear, but her fear of being publicly humiliated over it, and her break down like this. Yeah, shame, a little nervousness? Normal. Panic and scared to pee at all... so I have to actually tell her it's okay to wet her pants, and she won't even try to sit on a toilet right now? That's trained shame." Leah's sobs turned frantic, her fingers twisting in my shirt as she choked out words between gasps. "They, they made me stand up...in front of the class...with my pants...wet!" Her entire body convulsed with the memory, another hot gush of urine soaking through her diaper and sweatpants onto my lap. The smell intensified as her bowels let go again, a fresh wave of mess filling her pants with a squelching sound that made her wail louder. "No, no, not again, please don't make me show them!" "Baby, sit," I ordered. "You not showing anyone anything. Pee your pants all the way and sit in my lap, baby. You don't move until we are ready to change your pants, okay? No need to stand up and show everyone. We can tell you are having an accident, and I want you to deliberately finish so you don't hurt yourself. It's not good to stop it once you're leaking. It means your body has already held it longer than you should, baby." Leah's cries turned hysterical, her body jerking against mine as fresh warmth spilled down my thighs. She clawed at my sleeves, her voice cracking into jagged fragments. "They'll, they'll pull my pants down, in front of everyone!" Her bladder pulsed again, the wet patch spreading across both our laps as her bowels released another soft, sickening squelch. Sarah pressed closer, shielding Leah's soiled sweatpants from view with her own body while Jennifer silently passed me more towels. "Baby, the doctor isn't interested in seeing the mess in your pants, I promise. No one here is interested either. I will have Sarah stay to help because you trust her, but Miss Jennifer and the doctor will give us space so I can clean you up as soon as you are actually done wetting. Until then, let the doctor keep talking to you and helping us build a case for you to stay with Grandpa. Once I'm sure you finished wetting, only Grandpa and Sarah will stay to clean you. I promise." Leah's fingers dug into my forearms hard enough to bruise, her entire body rigid with terror as she gasped between sobs. The stench of ammonia and loosened bowels clung thickly to the air, her sweatpants now utterly soaked through with warm, spreading stains. Every slight shift in her weight produced an audible squelch, making her whimper and clutch me tighter. "They, they always lied," she choked out, her voice shredded raw. "Said they wouldn't look but then they, they made me turn around, " Another wet spurt pulsed against my thighs, her bladder still emptying in frantic bursts despite the flood already released. "I know, baby. I know," I hugged her. "I hope someone is documenting this. The lawyers asked us to document her accidents, and this information she's telling everyone right now is important." I looked more at the doctor than Jennifer at the moment. Leah was crying uncontrollably now, shaking in my lap as another wet spurt soaked through her sweatpants. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her fingers twisting in my shirt like she was afraid I'd vanish. "They made me stand in front of the class," she sobbed, her voice breaking. "Made me lift my shirt to show everyone, " The words dissolved into a wail as her body betrayed her again, a fresh wave of warmth spreading between us. The diaper was long past its capacity now, the mess seeping through the sides, but I didn't dare move her except to turn her so she was stomach to stomach with me so I could hug the rest of her pee out of her. "You are with Grandpa now, baby. Grandpa just wants you to be healthy and holding it and not letting it all out is hurting you, sweetheart." Her bladder pulsed one final time, a full, gushing release that emptied her completely, turning the front of her pants into a soaked, muddy brown disaster. The smell filled the room, thick and sour, but I kept rocking her gently, whispering reassurances as her tears soaked my shoulder. Dr. Rosario met my eyes and gave a subtle nod before motioning to Jennifer. "Let's step out and discuss documentation," she said quietly, guiding Jennifer toward the door. "Sarah, towels are over there in that cabinet. That's where the doctor got one earlier when you peed. But three on the floor so I can wipe it up," I whispered as I dug in the bag for a clean diaper for Leah. "Whose baby girl are you now, honey? Who do you listen to from now on?" I asked Leah as I started to pull her soaked pants down. "Yours," Leah gasped between hiccuping sobs, her fingers still death-gripping my sleeves. Her thighs trembled violently as the cold air hit her soaked skin, the diaper sagging grotesquely before I peeled it away. Sarah worked quickly, laying out fresh towels like a runway from my lap to the sink, her own hands shaking as she avoided looking directly at the mess. "Good girl," I whispered to both girls. "Sarah, can you get me a diaper for Leah?" And I started to undo Leah's messy diaper, she was still in my lap. I was soaked in her mess, so I didn't care if she got me messy as long as she didn't feel alone and scared. Sarah fumbled with the package, her fingers slipping on the plastic before finally pulling out a fresh diaper with purple trim, the same kind Leah had wet through earlier. She handed it to me, her eyes flicking nervously between Leah's tear-streaked face and the soiled clothes piling up on the floor. The smell was overwhelming, a mix of sour fear and bodily waste, but neither of us flinched. Leah's breath hitched as I wiped her down with warmed wipes, her fingers digging into my arms like she was afraid I'd vanish if she let go. "Sarah, honey, don't touch the messy stuff. That's not your job, honey. You are here to help your friend, not touch gross stuff, and while Leah is having a hard time, it's still gross to touch other people's poopy. I'll finish cleaning her mess up in a minute, but after I get most of the mess off her bottom, I want you to put her in a clean diaper while I clean up the floor, okay?" Sarah nodded, her hands hovering uncertainly as I worked the last of the mess off Leah's trembling thighs with careful swipes. Leah's breathing was still ragged, her fingers tangled in my shirt like anchors. I shifted her to the side to stand on a clean part of the floor so I could finish wiping her butt and her privates, and then I smiled at Sarah. "She's clean now, honey. She just needs a clean diaper on, but just a moment." I turned to Leah. "Baby? Grandpa is a mess and I'll just make you messy again. Let Sarah change you, baby. I'm just going to clean up the floor and try to get some of the poop off my clothes so I can talk to the doctor. You stay right new Grandpa though. I promise. Until we are safe in a motel or something, Grandpa's not leaving your sight, baby." Leah's grip loosened slightly, her fingers still clutching at my sleeve as she nodded, her breath hitching. Sarah hesitated, then knelt beside us with the fresh diaper, her movements slow and deliberate. "Can I?" she whispered, holding the diaper up for Leah to see first. Leah gave a tiny nod, her body tense as Sarah carefully slid the diaper beneath her. I got a clean town and wet it so I could clean off my clothes and then added it to the mess to be cleaned up. I cleaned up the floor and put it in a pile. Only after the floor was mostly dry and the mess pushed to one pile, did I looked up to see Sarah had cleaned Leah up. "Stay next to Sarah, baby. Grandpa's still messy and this isn't coming off without a shower." Sarah had managed to get Leah into clean sweatpants and a fresh diaper, her hands steady despite the lingering tremble in her fingers. Leah stood frozen, her arms wrapped around herself like she was holding her own ribs together. The smell still clung to the air, but the worst of it was bundled in the soiled towels now. I stripped off my ruined shirt and used a fresh wipe to scrub at the stains on my pants, knowing it wouldn't do much until I could properly wash them. "Once you get her clean, Sarah, let her stay in the room with me, but you go get the doctor and your mom. I need to know where to go from here, too, and I don't want Leah to think I've disappeared on her." Sarah nodded, her fingers lingering on Leah's shoulder before she slipped out the door. Leah swayed slightly, her arms still wrapped tight around her middle. I moved closer, keeping my soiled pants out of reach but letting my shoulder brush hers. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting sharp shadows under Leah's hollowed eyes. Leah looked down, and I saw the tears fall onto her cheeks before she spoke. "That's why I hate doctors," she whispered, her voice frayed at the edges. "Always end up wetting or worse. Then they stop checking me." She swallowed hard, her fingers twisting in the hem of her clean sweats. "They look disgusted. And the people, the ones supposed to take care of me, they get even madder. Because I embarrassed them in public." Her breath hitched on the last word, sharp like a sob caught in her throat. "Baby, you are not causing trouble, you are having trouble. Anyone reasonable can see that. A teenager doesn't just wet herself like that when it scares and shames you so much. You were conditioned to pee your pants, honey." Leah's breath hitched, her fingers twisting tighter in her sweats. The tears kept falling, splashing onto the tile floor between us. "They said, said I was doing it on purpose," she whispered, her voice raw. "Even when I begged to use the bathroom before tests, they'd say I just wanted to cheat." Her shoulders hunched forward, her entire body curling inward like she could disappear into herself. A fresh tremor ran through her as she confessed, "Once I held it so long I threw up. They made me clean it up in my wet pants." "Those fuck-tards had no excuse to treat you like that. You are a child that has been suffering, obviously for a long time. There should have been IEPs on you, giving you accomandation, and at least diapers to wear during tests if tests stressed you so much and they were afraid of said cheating. They should have done anything but humiliate you over something you are having control issues over." Leah's breath stuttered, her fingers digging into her thighs like she was trying to anchor herself to the present. Her sweats were already damp again, fresh warmth trickling down her legs despite the clean diaper Sarah had just put on her. "They...they said I was lying about the pain," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Said if I really had to go, I wouldn't be able to hold it at all." Another hot spurt soaked into the diaper, the faint crinkling sound making her flinch. "Baby, that's the fault of whoever taught you to pee like you are doing now, and not fully pee when you are even told to do so. I just told you to finish in your pants before we changed you. You tried to finish, didn't you, baby?" Leah's lower lip trembled, fresh tears spilling over as she nodded jerkily. The front of her diaper darkened further, warmth spreading unevenly as her bladder emptied in hesitant spurts. Her fingers twisted in her sweatshirt sleeves, knuckles white with tension. "They said...said if I really had to go, it'd all come out at once," she whispered, her voice small and broken. "But it never does. It just keeps coming in little bits, even when it hurts." "A good part of that is training, or fear of punishment at getting caught peeing yourself, baby, but if it hurts and it's extremely constant like it seems to be for at least a good hour, then it might be something more... an infection perhaps. Whatever it is, we are going to help you however we can, and I want my baby to start trying to piss her pants as soon as she has to go. No more holding it, and no potty until you can release all your pee pee within a minute, baby. I don't want you holding anymore... not on purpose." Leah's fingers twitched against her thighs, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The diaper sagged heavier between her legs, warmth still trickling in slow pulses. She looked at me with wide, wet eyes, somewhere between disbelief and cautious hope. "You... want me to go in my pants?" The words came out fractured, like she was testing the edges of a foreign concept. "Baby? I just want this until you are healthy again and peeing normally again. I don't want to shame you, but holding it like you've been doing is hurting you. It's obviously what's causing you to hurt and causing you so much stress when you have to pee." Leah stared at me, her fingers twitching against the damp fabric of her sweatpants. The diaper crinkled softly as she shifted her weight, her breath shallow but steadying. The silence stretched between us, thick with the lingering smell of antiseptic and the faint metallic tang of fear-sweat still clinging to her skin. "I will talk to your school when you start back and let them know I demand an IEP. You get your diaper changed as soon as you raise your hand. You give a signal, and the teacher sends you from the room, no questions asked, no making you sit there and pee in front of your peers. If they say there's a test, they don't make you stand up until they have everyone else out of the room. Anything else they do that could shame you, is a court case ready to happen, okay? No one treats my baby like that." Leah's fingers went slack against her thighs, her mouth slightly open like she'd been struck silent mid-thought. A thin trail of spit connected her lower lip to her chin before she swallowed hard, her throat working around some unspoken protest. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting her tear-streaked face in harsh relief. "Baby? You can tell me what's on your mind. I won't be mad if you are scared, or you think something is not going to work, or you are not wanting to do something because you are unsure... I won't know what's bothering you unless you tell me, baby." Leah's fingers twitched against her thighs again, her breath hitching. She swallowed hard, her throat working around the words before they finally tumbled out in a whisper. "They'll, they'll know." Her voice cracked. "At school. If I wear... those." Her chin jerked slightly toward the diaper package on the counter, her face flushing scarlet. "They'll hear it. The crinkling. They always do." "Then we put you in panties and a thick pad... like when you have a period. Just raise your hand as soon as the pad gets a little wet and go right to the nurse to finish peeing your pants, okay? You will have extra clothes by then." Leah blinked, her fingers unclenching slightly against her thighs. The fluorescent light caught the tracks of tears still drying on her cheeks, making them gleam like faint silver scars. She swallowed again, her throat clicking audibly in the quiet room. "But... what if I can't stop?" Her voice was so small it almost disappeared beneath the hum of the overhead lights. "Once I start, sometimes I can't, ", she gestured weakly at her damp sweatpants, "it keeps coming out. Like a faucet with no shut-off." "Then you sit there, and your teacher doesn't make you move. If he asks you to stand for a reason, and you give him a signal, he or she is to call on someone else and let you alone until the class is over and everyone else leaves. If he forces you to stand, you tell me as soon as you can, baby. That's shaming a student, and I won't allow it. We'll put it in your IEP, he is not to make you move if you have a lake around your chair, and he is not to draw attention to it. He is to keep the class focused away from you and your personal issues until he can discreetly excuse you to the nurse." Leah's breathing slowed fractionally, her fingers loosening their death grip on her sweatpants. A faint crinkle sounded as she shifted her weight in the fresh diaper, still damp from her latest accident, but she didn't flinch this time. Her lower lip quivered before she pressed it into a thin line, her green eyes flicking toward the door where Sarah had disappeared. "Sarah will be back. You know Sarah admitted to peeing her pants at school. She must have things she does to keep others from noticing. I bet she has some ideas that will help without having to wear a scary diaper." Leah's fingers twitched against her thighs, her breath shuddering out in a slow exhale. The faint crinkle of the diaper beneath her sweatpants seemed louder in the silence, but she didn't flinch this time. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, considering. "She...does?" The words came out hesitant, like she was testing the truth of them. "You're not to let on to anyone at school what I told you, or make her feel bad even if she poops her pants, understand? But if you two talk about it, I'm sure she's had to hide accidents for a long time." Leah's fingers twitched against her knees, her gaze flicking toward the door again. The faint scent of antiseptic mixed with the lingering odor of urine as she shifted, the diaper crinkling softly beneath her sweats. Her breath hitched, not quite a sob, but something fragile breaking loose in her chest. "She...she smelled like pee earlier," Leah whispered. "When we were in the truck. I thought, " Her voice cracked. "I thought she was like me." "She's going through her own emotional and physical stress, sweetheart. She pees her pants sometimes, especially when she's stressed and the bed, but again, no being mean about it. Even if you get better before her. She's being a friend to you, so you treat her with the same kindness and respect, okay?" Leah blinked rapidly, her fingers twisting in the hem of her sweatshirt. A tear slid down her cheek, but she didn't wipe it away. "She helped me," she murmured, almost to herself. "Even when I..." Her voice trailed off, her gaze dropping to the damp spot on her sweatpants where the diaper had leaked slightly. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows across her face. "I know she did, and I expect the same from you. She's your friend, baby. Friends help each other even when they don't know why a friend is behaving a certain way or having a hard time, they help and they never judge. They are there for them when everyone else is against them. That's what caring about someone means." Leah's fingers stopped twisting, her hands lying limp on her thighs now. Her breath steadied, the panicked hitches giving way to something quieter, more exhausted. The diaper sagged slightly between her legs, dampness spreading but no longer in frantic spurts, just the slow seep of a bladder too tired to fight anymore. Dr. Rosario knocked twice before pushing the door open, her dark eyes immediately dropping to Leah's sweatpants. The dark patch was impossible to miss, the fabric clinging where warmth had turned cold against her skin. The doctor didn't react, just hooked her stethoscope around her neck and leaned against the counter. "Leah," she said evenly, "I'd like to listen to your lungs again. You can hold the stethoscope yourself if that helps." "Leah?" I whispered. "Do you trust Grandpa? If I tell you the doctor won't be mean, she won't call you names, or stop her exams, can you let her try to do the full exam? The thing is, if she can do the full exam today, then next Thursday, we can get you to see someone that can get you cremes for your owies from peeing on yourself, so the rashes go away, but things have to be documented before we can do that. And I hate seeing you suffer, baby." Leah's fingers clenched into fists against her thighs, knuckles whitening. The damp fabric of her sweatpants clung to her legs where the diaper had leaked, the scent of antiseptic and urine mixing with the sterile hospital air. Her breath hitched, once, twice, before she gave the smallest nod. "You have a right to just piss your pants when it's ready to come out, baby. The doctor knows you have the right to pee, and that you can't control it easily, so call it permission, call it what you want, but you pee your pants as soon as you feel it, and let the doctor finish. If you get too scared, you say the word and Grandpa makes her stop, okay?" Leah exhaled shakily, her fingers flexing against her thighs. The diaper shifted beneath her sweatpants as she adjusted her weight, the faint crinkle almost lost beneath the hum of fluorescent lights. She nodded again, sharper this time. "Just go slow," I told the doctor. "She should let you go further as long as you keep her trust." Dr. Rosario nodded and held out the stethoscope, letting Leah take it first. Her fingers trembled as she gripped the cold metal, but she didn't pull away. The doctor waited, silent, until Leah finally pressed the diaphragm against her own chest, her breath coming in shallow bursts. "Good," Dr. Rosario murmured. "Now, may I?" She gestured toward the stethoscope, her voice steady and devoid of pity. Leah hesitated, then released it with a jerky nod. The doctor's hands were warm as she adjusted the earpieces, her movements deliberate. "Deep breath if you can," she instructed, but Leah was already gasping, her bladder letting go in a quiet rush beneath the exam table. The sound of liquid hitting diaper padding filled the room, but Dr. Rosario didn't pause, didn't react beyond a slight tightening around her eyes. I walked over and squeezed her hand. "Grandpa's here, baby." Leah flinched when Dr. Rosario touched her ribs, but didn't pull away. Her sweatpants darkened further, the diaper swelling visibly beneath the fabric. Sarah slipped back into the room carrying a fresh change of clothes, her own jeans slightly damp at the thighs, whether from spilled water or solidarity, I couldn't tell. She sat beside Leah without comment, pressing their shoulders together. "Leah," Dr. Rosario murmured, "try exhaling completely for me." The stethoscope slid across Leah's back as she complied, her breath stuttering out in uneven bursts. The doctor's brow furrowed. "Again. Empty your lungs." Leah wheezed, her diaphragm spasming before she'd fully exhaled. Sarah squeezed Leah's hand as the doctor moved the stethoscope lower, tracing the rigid tension along Leah's abdomen. A soft click sounded when Rosario pressed below her ribcage, too soft for anyone but me to notice. The doctor's fingers stilled. "Jim," she said quietly, "when Leah has bowel movements, are they..." She paused, choosing her words carefully as Leah's face flushed crimson. "Exceptionally large? Infrequent?" "This is the first time she's pooped her pants in front of me. I don't know what the mess looked like at school yesterday because by the time they got her to me, she had already sat in the mess for over six hours, maybe longer. I could tell because he panties had several stains like she rewet them more than three times." Dr. Rosario's fingers pressed gently along Leah's diaphragm, her expression tightening as she felt the abnormal protrusion beneath Leah's ribs. Leah whimpered, her fingers digging into Sarah's arm, but the doctor didn't withdraw. "Leah, honey," Rosario said softly, "when you breathe out, does it ever feel like... like there's a rock sitting right here?" Her thumb circled the spot below Leah's ribcage. Leah's breath hitched, her bladder releasing another trickle into the already saturated diaper. She nodded jerkily, her face pale beneath the fluorescent lights. Sarah tightened her grip on Leah's hand, her own knuckles whitening. Dr. Rosario straightened, her dark eyes serious. "I need to confirm something," she said, moving toward the ultrasound machine in the corner. The machine whirred to life as she prepped the gel. "This won't hurt," she assured Leah, though the girl flinched when the cold gel touched her abdomen. The doctor pressed the transducer just below Leah's ribs, her eyes locked on the grainy image forming on the screen. "What's going on?" I asked. "Can I see?" Dr. Rosario hesitated a moment, then angled the screen toward me. The grainy image showed Leah's bladder distended far beyond normal capacity, its outline bulging unnaturally against her pelvic bones. The doctor moved the transducer lower, tracing a thick, coiled mass pressing against her colon. "Severe fecal impaction," she murmured. "But look here, " She shifted the probe upward, freezing the image where Leah's diaphragm curved abnormally. A shadowy bulge protruded through the muscle, pulsing slightly with each shallow breath. "Hiatal hernia. Likely congenital." "Sorry, I have only a little medical knowledge, doctor. Laymen's terms if you please?" Dr. Rosario tapped the ultrasound screen where Leah's bladder glowed unnaturally large. "See how this stretches beyond normal capacity? That's chronic retention, her bladder never empties completely." She dragged the transducer lower, freezing on a dense shadow pressing against Leah's colon. "This fecal mass should've passed days ago. But look here, " The probe angled upward, revealing a jagged protrusion where Leah's diaphragm should have been smooth. "Part of her stomach is squeezing through this gap. That's the hernia. It's trapping air in her lungs, crowding her organs." "If we fix that, she'll be able to piss her pants more normally? I mean, just pee more normal? I'm letting her pee her pants until she learns it's okay to pee, then when she can go normally, we'll start helping her get to the toilet, but you know, one stressful thing at a time?" The ultrasound wand slid across Leah's abdomen again, leaving wet trails on her skin as Dr. Rosario traced the outline of her distended bladder. The image on the screen pulsed faintly with Leah's shallow breaths, the bladder walls stretched thin as a balloon filled beyond capacity. "If we relieve the hernia's pressure," Rosario said, tapping the screen where Leah's stomach protruded through her diaphragm, "her bladder should regain normal function." The probe moved lower, revealing the coiled mass in her colon pressing against her urinary tract. "This is compounding the issue, fecal matter pressing directly on her bladder neck." "Would this cure the years of abuse of her thinking she has to hold it?" I asked. "Or is that a different problem?" Dr. Rosario removed the transducer from Leah's abdomen, wiping away the gel with a warmed towel. "The hernia explains why she can't void completely," she said quietly, watching Leah's fingers clutch Sarah's sleeve. "But the fear...that's learned." She tapped the ultrasound screen, freezing the image of Leah's bladder, still half-full despite the accident. "See this residual volume? Even when she thinks she's emptied, she's retaining nearly 300cc. That's trauma layered atop anatomy." "So... one thing at a time make sense to you? Permission to wet her pants until she's ready? Or would that hurt her more?" Dr. Rosario peeled off her gloves with a slow snap. "No, you're doing the right thing, forcing toilet training now would worsen retention." She tapped the ultrasound screen where Leah's bladder still glowed with trapped urine. "But we need objective measurements." She gestured to a nurse, who wheeled in a portable bladder scanner. "Leah, this will just press lightly on your belly, okay?" "We're getting to the bottom of one of the complications causing you to have to go potty all the time. If you can pee all the way out, you wouldn't be constantly peeing your pants, baby," I explained. "So this is important, okay?" The nurse positioned the bladder scanner over Leah's abdomen, its cold surface making her flinch. The machine beeped softly, displaying numbers that made Dr. Rosario's frown deepen. "Post-void residual of 320 milliliters," she muttered. "That's nearly half her bladder capacity still full." She ran the scanner again, watching as the digital readout fluctuated between 310 and 330. "Consistent chronic retention." "Is there any way to drain it to make it feel better in the short term until we decide how best to solve that permanently?" Dr. Rosario peeled off her gloves with a slow snap. "Catheterization would relieve immediate discomfort, but given her trauma history, " Her gaze flicked to Leah's whitened knuckles gripping the exam table, the way her breathing hitched at the word 'catheter'. "No. We'll manage it conservatively." She gestured to the nurse. "Get CT prep started. I need full abdominal imaging." "Understood. I just want to help my baby, but do it in the safest feeling way we can, of course." The nurse wheeled in the portable CT scanner, its humming filling the room with a low vibration that made Leah's fingers twitch against the exam table. Dr. Rosario adjusted the settings, her eyes flicking between Leah's clenched jaw and the monitor. "Deep breath in," she instructed as the machine began its slow rotation around Leah's abdomen. The scan progressed in whirring segments, capturing cross-sections of her torso in stark detail. "Grandpa's here, baby," I told Leah. "You're safe, baby. The doctor is just doing what we can to help. No one cares if you soak the bedding, baby." I turned my attention to the doctor again. "What do we do as the main course of action to help her? I'm guessing surgery? With her temporary Military dependent status, will the military pay for her surgery or care?" Dr. Rosario pointed to the CT screen where Leah's stomach protruded unnaturally through her diaphragm. "Emergency fund allocation," she confirmed. "Commander's discretionary budget covers dependent care." She tapped the scan, tracing the hernia's edges. "But first, we need to relieve the fecal impaction." "I'm guessing medicine and time for that?" Dr. Rosario shook her head, already scribbling orders on a chart. "Not with this severity. Manual disimpaction under sedation, it's pressing against her bladder neck." Her pen paused. "She'll need bowel retraining after, probably months." The words landed like stones, but Leah barely reacted, her eyes fixed on the ceiling tiles above us, her fingers still curled into Sarah's sleeve. "I think she's already used to pooping and peeing in her pants, so that will probably not cause her too much more stress than she already has. But I'm guessing that will mean special measures at school until we can get it under control?" Dr. Rosario nodded, peeling off her gloves with a slow snap. "A medical note excusing her from bathroom restrictions, accommodations for clean-up kits in her locker." She glanced at Leah, who was staring blankly at the wall, her breathing shallow. "But sedation first, tonight, before that mass causes bowel necrosis." The words hung heavy in the sterile air. "She's staying the night? Can your office call Lieutenant Craigger? He can probably set it up so billeting can accommodate my friend and her daughter. They have no way back if I stay, and I'm not leaving my scared baby granddaughter in the hospital by herself. She maybe thirteen, but with all she's been through, I've been treating her like she's eight years old for now." Dr. Rosario glanced at Leah’s trembling fingers still gripping Sarah’s sleeve, then nodded. "We’ll need pre-op labs first," she said, motioning for a nurse to bring the supplies. Leah’s breath hitched as the needle tray clattered onto the bedside table. "I'll go ahead and call Lieutenant Craigger and let him know to expect a call later from the hospital to confirm. He probably needs time to set it up." "Baby?" I whispered to Leah. "I'm going to have to try to set up our friends a place to stay for the night. This is so I can stay with you, and I have to call into work because there's no way I'm making it to work tomorrow. I'll be right back, okay?" Leah didn't answer, her fingers tightening on Sarah's arm as the nurse approached with the needle tray. Her breathing grew ragged, her pupils dilated wide like a cornered animal. Sarah murmured something low against Leah's ear, her own hands shaking as she stroked Leah's wrist in slow circles. I called the nursing home first because I needed to catch the nurse in charge before she left. It was already nearing ten-thirty. "Hey, this is Jim Greene. I was in today for a minute, so Linda knows more. But I can't come in tomorrow as scheduled. My baby is hurting and in the hospital overnight. Like I said, Linda knows more about it, but I have to get off and talk to other people." The phone trembled against my ear as I ended the call, glancing back through the window where Leah sat rigid on the exam table, Sarah still whispering to her while the nurse prepped the IV line. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting sharp shadows under Leah's hollow cheeks. I punched in Craigger’s number with stiff fingers, watching Leah flinch as the needle touched her skin. "I need to speak with Lieutenant Craigger, please," I told the clerk that answered. "He's expecting my call. Master Sergeant Greene. I need some accommodations for my friends who are getting some help at the base hospital. Yes, my daughter-in-law and her child and of course my new fostered baby is the one in the hospital. He should know the rest of the story already. I'll hold." The line clicked over to hold music, some tinny military march that set my teeth on edge. Through the glass partition, I watched Leah's chest hitch as the nurse swabbed her arm with alcohol. Sarah leaned closer, her lips moving rapidly, but I couldn't make out the words over the hold music's brassy blare. Leah's fingers dug into the exam table's paper cover, tearing it in jagged strips. "Craigger." The lieutenant's voice snapped through the receiver like a gunshot. "It's me, sir. My grandbaby's situation is a lot worse than we first though. Medical complications on top of the neglect and abuse. She's going to be in overnight, and so Jennifer and her daughter have no way back home tonight. Can you set them up in billeting for me?" The lieutenant grunted. Paper rustled on his end. "Her condition?" "My grandbaby has a hernia that is blocking her breathing, her bladder evacuation, and her bowel is so messed up, the doctor said once she's healed, she's going to have to be retrained to use the toilet." "Jesus," Craigger muttered. "Alright. Paperwork's already flagged, emergency dependent status covers inpatient care. Billeting for two, standard visitor quarters." His pen scratched against paper. "Jennifer Vasquez and minor child Sarah, correct?" "Yes sir. They've also found out Sarah has complications from being forced to do the things her dad did to her. Nothing sexual, but honestly, I'm not so sure if sexual manipulation would have been kinder or not. She's having bowel and pissing problems, too, and the doctor said it's partly medical from her retaining too much." Craigger exhaled sharply. "Christ. I'll authorize pediatric consults for both." A chair creaked as he leaned back. "How long you need the quarters for?" "Honestly, I'm not sure. I asked the doctor to call you back for details, but as they are busy with emergencies right now, I just wanted to give you a heads up so you weren't already home and get a surprise on your plate. I mean, it is already... Christ... I didn't notice! eleven-fifteen?" Craigger's chair creaked again. "Understood. I'll notify base housing and the hospital admin. You focus on your kid." The line went dead before I could thank him. I walked back in. "Lieutenant Craigger is already setting up quarters for you and Sarah," I whispered to Jennifer. "How long that will be, will be determined later after we see what the hospital says. But you should plan on your daughter missing the rest of the week from school. I'm sorry." Jennifer shook her head, squeezing my arm. "I'll call her school in the morning. You have enough to worry about." "Just tell them she's got a medical emergency. The doctor says she has problems too, so we'll get her to refer your daughter to a civilian clinic nearby, and you can use my truck to get her there if I need to be with my Leah." Jennifer nodded, glancing at Sarah who was still murmuring to Leah while the nurse struggled to find a vein. Leah's arm jerked suddenly, the needle flashing in the harsh light before clattering to the floor. The nurse sighed, reaching for another. I walked over in front of Leah's face. "Hold on the needle for a moment?" I asked the doctor. "Let me talk her down, then it might be easier." "Hey, honey. Remember? Remember how I told you the gel we put on your privates this morning would sting for a moment, but if we did, it would help you hurt less later?" I rubbed her arm. "You haven't been itching as much today, have you?" Leah shook her head stiffly, her lips pressed into a white line. The nurse hovered with the fresh needle, her fingers twitching with impatience. Sarah shifted closer, pressing her forehead against Leah's temple in silent solidarity. "You can talk to Sarah, and if you don't look, and you focus on talking to your friend, the needle's pinch will just last a moment, like a mosquito bit, and then it will turn into an itch and that will be all you feel until they take the IV out of your arm. Trust me, honey?" Leah's nostrils flared, her gaze flicking between me and Sarah's face. Sarah nodded emphatically, her fingers lacing through Leah's. "Tell me about the cookies," Sarah whispered, her voice barely audible over the beeping monitors. "The peanut butter ones your grandpa made. Were they soft or crunchy?" Leah swallowed hard. "Cr... crunchy," she rasped, her first word since the needle tray appeared. Her pupils dilated further as the nurse swabbed her inner elbow again, but she kept staring at Sarah's chin. "With... with the fork marks." Sarah squeezed Leah's fingers tighter just as the needle slid in. Leah gasped, her thighs clamping together reflexively. A warm trickle seeped through the exam table's paper covering, spreading in a slow circle beneath her. The nurse pretended not to notice, taping down the IV line with clinical efficiency. "Tell me more about the fork marks," Sarah urged, her voice steady despite the acrid tang of urine rising around them. She rubbed her thumb over Leah's knuckles where the skin was chapped from months of anxious chewing. "Did they make little squares? Or were they crisscrossed?" Leah's breath hitched as another warm pulse escaped her, soaking through the thin hospital gown and dripping onto the floor with soft taps. The nurse adjusted the IV bag, her face carefully neutral as she stepped around the puddle forming beneath the stool. I kissed the top of her head. "You are doing so well, baby," I praised Leah. "So good, honey. Remember what Grandpa said. You try to pee as soon as you feel it leaking though. No holding it, okay?" Sarah kept talking. "The fork marks were crisscrossed, weren't they? Like your grandpa made them extra crispy." She squeezed Leah's hand tighter. "Do you remember how they smelled?" Leah's breath came in uneven hitches, her thighs trembling against the steady trickle beneath her. The nurse adjusted the IV line, her movements brisk but careful not to look down at the spreading wetness. The scent of warm urine mingled with antiseptic, sharp and unmistakable, but Sarah kept her eyes locked on Leah's face. "They smelled like brown sugar," Sarah continued, her voice deliberately light. "And salt. Like when we made playdough in kindergarten." Leah's fingers twitched in Sarah's grip, her bladder emptying in slow pulses that darkened the paper sheet beneath her. A shallow puddle formed at the edge of the exam table, dripping onto the tile in rhythmic splashes. The nurse reached for a fresh gown without comment, draping it over the soiled one as Leah whispered, "Playdough... smelled like flour." Her voice cracked on the last word, her free hand clutching at the damp hospital gown. Sarah nodded, her thumb tracing circles over Leah's wrist where the IV disappeared under tape. "Your grandpa's cookies had vanilla too," she murmured, leaning closer as another warm gush soaked through the layers. The scent of ammonia sharpened when Leah shifted her weight, the wet fabric sticking to her thighs with a soft peeling sound. "Real vanilla. Not the fake kind." When the nurse was done, the doctor reappeared a little later with a man in green cleaning up the puddle. "You can come back with me," the doctor told me as Jennifer took Sarah by the hand. I followed them through a hall of surgical bays and equipment to a small office in the back. The doctor handed me a stack of paperwork. "Mr. Greene, I don't know if you've been told this yet, but Leah's condition is serious. We have scheduled her for surgery tomorrow morning. The hernia is pressing on her lungs and digestive tract, and the fecal impaction, " the doctor paused, "has actually shifted her internal organs slightly." "I was told she'll need to retrain her bowels and that on top of the psychological damage done to her already, I was already guessing she'd need help peeing. But after the surgery, what else should I be prepared for. I'm okay with my baby pissing her pants for a while. I just don't want her to hurt. She's also got skin damage from people forcing her to sit in her messes all the time." The doctor's pen hovered over the consent form. "Post-op, we'll need to manage bowel decompression gradually, enemas would retraumatize her. We'll use osmotic laxatives instead." He flipped to a diagram of Leah's twisted colon. "This kink here", he tapped the image, "is why she couldn't defecate normally even without the psychological component. She'll need scheduled toilet sits with glycerin suppositories at first." "This is going to get real personal and embarrassing for her real quick. Officially, CPS hasn't allowed me to sign a guardian form yet, but the military is supposed to be doing a work around since that's the first thing that should have happened when they dropped her off. This all started because they said they were not going to treat her medically for a month, but I had seen problems with that... so started to take matters into my own hands, leading us here." The doctor nodded slowly. "The hernia explains the breathing issues, but the fecal impaction..." He paused as footsteps approached outside. A soft whimper filtered through the door, followed by Sarah's gentle reassurances. The doctor lowered his voice. "She'll need diaper changes post-op until her muscles remember how to function. The scarring inside her rectum suggests..." "She doesn't like diapers. She's afraid of the public knowing. It think it's one of the control things they did to her. Now, I'm not afraid to change her panties if she wears them, but is there something sort of in between we can do for her so she's not scared all the time?" The doctor exhaled sharply through his nose, tapping his pen against the clipboard. "Compression underwear. Looks like regular briefs, but has an absorbent liner. Military families use them for bedwetting recruits." He scribbled something on a prescription pad. "PX sells them discreetly. Size 13, right?" "Yes sir. The problem is if they work like a diaper at all, I'm afraid she'll be triggered. I'd rather wash out panties for her than have her go through the trauma of what the abusers did to her." The doctor frowned, pulling up a digital catalog on his monitor. His fingers moved stiffly across the keys as he searched for a middle ground. "Here. Cotton training pants with moisture-wicking lining. They look like underwear but absorb small leaks. For heavy accidents, she'd still need changing, but they're more dignified than full containment products." "I plan to change her as soon as she's wet enough, anyway, or has pooped her panties, in either case. I just don't want her to suffer. That little baby has already been through way too much for a child." The doctor's fingers stilled on the keyboard. "You understand she may regress further post-surgery? Pain meds can cause temporary incontinence even in healthy patients." He glanced toward the door where Sarah's murmurs still filtered through. "Given her history, she might revert to deliberate withholding if she associates the hospital bed with previous trauma." "I'm working on letting her wet her pants. That's the first thing I think she needs. Permission to just be and wet her pants and poop them without shame or fear. I think if the nurses remind her to pee her pants if they see her leaking, it will help." The doctor studied me for a long moment before nodding. "We'll note it in her chart, nursing staff will reinforce no punishment for accidents." He slid a consent form across the desk. "Sign here for the absorbent underwear and bowel retraining protocol. The psych team will consult tomorrow." "My signature will hold weight even though the papers are not finalized yet?" I asked as I signed. "I don't want anyone bothering her with signatures or forcing her to make decisions she's not ready for." The doctor nodded. "Military medical powers default to the accompanying adult in dependent cases." He tore off the top copy and handed it to me. "This covers tonight's accommodations too. Visitor quarters are two floors up, Lieutenant Craigger already reserved adjacent rooms." "This is for my friends, or for just me?" I asked. The doctor hesitated, glancing at the paperwork. "Sarah and her mother will be accommodated separately, but I assumed you'd want Leah close, " he said quietly. "We've arranged a pediatric recovery room with an adult cot for you. Given her... episodes, we thought proximity would help." "Yes, that's exactly what I want. I just didn't want to misunderstand. That's why I asked. I get that they will probably go to the base motel lodging." The doctor nodded, tapping the edge of the clipboard against his knee. "Jennifer was already briefed on base accommodations when she took Sarah for vitals. They'll be housed in transient quarters near the commissary." He glanced at his watch. "The nurses should be finishing Leah's prep soon. You can stay with her tonight if, " he hesitated, "if you're comfortable assisting with toileting needs post-anesthesia." "I've already assisted her with baths and toileting. That's how I found out about all her problems. She's not the kind of kid that tells you everything. She's been conditioned to keep quiet most of the time. Will I have time to let Jennifer have my truck keys and maybe she can use my Military ID to get around and use the PX for her and her daughter's needs?" The doctor nodded, sliding a visitor pass across the desk. "PX closes at 2100, but the all-night shoppette stocks basics." He stood, gathering the paperwork. "Let me check Leah's prep status before you go." "Thank you sir." The doctor left, and I stepped into the hall, glancing at the clock, 12:37 AM. Jennifer stood near the nurses’ station, Sarah’s head resting against her shoulder. I handed Jennifer my truck keys and military ID, watching her fingers close around them with practiced familiarity. "PX is closed," I said quietly. "But the Shopperette’s open all night. Billeting will have a small kitchen with a stove so you can make simple dinners. Probably no real oven though, so keep it simple." Jennifer nodded, slipping the ID into her pocket. "We’ll grab essentials, some snacks, bottled water, maybe a few toiletries." She hesitated, glancing toward the prep room where Leah was. "You think she’ll be okay overnight?" "I'm staying with Leah overnight, but they said you and Sarah have to stay at Billeting. I'm sorry. That's why I'm letting you keep the truck. They are getting you a visitor pass, so with that and my ID, you shouldn't have any trouble. If they ask about having it, tell them I'm at the hospital with my grandbaby. They might detain you until they verify, but you shouldn't be in any real trouble." Jennifer squeezed my shoulder, her grip firm but reassuring. "We'll be fine. Call if you need anything, even if it's just someone to sit with Leah while you run to the bathroom." "We'll be okay here. You just make sure tomorrow, you see the doctor here so they can refer you to an off-base nearby doctor for your own daughter, okay?" Jennifer nodded, pocketing my ID and keys. I watched her guide Sarah toward the elevators, Sarah's sneakers squeaking softly on the polished linoleum. Their footsteps faded as the doctor reappeared, his expression unreadable under the fluorescent lights. "What's going on?" I asked not sure if I was nervous yet at the look he was giving me. "The prep team found something," the doctor said quietly, gesturing for me to follow. The hall smelled of antiseptic and industrial cleaner, the kind that never quite masked the underlying odors. As we approached the prep room, I saw Leah through the small window, her thin frame barely visible under the oversized hospital gown. A nurse was adjusting her IV line while another spoke softly to her, but Leah wasn't looking at them, her gaze was fixed on the ceiling, her fingers gripping the sheets like they might dissolve if she let go. "What am I looking at?" I asked. "If you are worried about the way she's behaving, that's kind of normal. She's scared of doctors and I think she's only been calm because of Sarah being close and because she knows I'm near. She'll settle a little if I hold her a minute. She's probably soaked though... with pee." The doctor exhaled slowly, tapping the clipboard against his thigh before flipping it around to show me a thermal scan. "Not behavioral. Anatomical." He pointed to a jagged shadow near Leah's spine. "This isn't congenital. Someone fractured her L2 vertebra and it healed improperly. That's why she can't feel bladder fullness, nerve damage." His finger moved to another shadow. "And this? That's surgical scarring. Someone did a botched laminectomy, probably to relieve pressure from the fracture." "Damn, I knew she was with evil people. Can you document this? I already have an attorney all over this mishandling of this poor child. So, if she can't feel bladder fullness, how do we get her to pee without hurting herself?" The doctor flipped the clipboard back around. "We'll schedule intermittent catheterization until we can assess nerve function post-surgery. But that fracture, " He hesitated, lowering his voice as a nurse walked past. "That's deliberate trauma. The angle suggests a blunt force impact from behind, likely while restrained." "I honestly thought you people were supposed to do these kinds of things, assessing before treating anyway. Did I forget to tell you something? The Lawyer needs confirmed reports of anything that looks like it was abuse, how old you think it is, or how long it seems to have gone on, and the works. Notarized if you can wing it." The doctor hesitated, then exhaled sharply through his nose. "Military protocol requires forensic documentation for suspected abuse cases. I'll flag this for JAG liaison review." He tapped the thermal image. "This fracture's at least three years old based on bone remodeling. The surgical scarring looks newer, maybe eighteen months." "These are things CPS should have noticed, right? When they had her and placing her around?" The doctor’s grip tightened on the clipboard. "Standard pediatric exams don’t include spinal imaging unless there’s complaint of pain." He studied Leah through the window, her shallow breaths, the way her fingers twitched near the IV site. "She wouldn’t have complained. Kids like her don’t." "The thing is... even as her caregiver, in just one night, I knew to take her to the bathroom when she peed her pants twice! How can they miss things that would have lead to this discovery if she was with a CPS official from the end of school until nearly 8 PM? The doctor rubbed his temples, his voice dropping to a whisper. "They see paperwork, not patients. If a file says 'behavioral issues,' they stop looking for medical causes." He motioned toward Leah. "But you saw her flinch when touched near the lumbar region. You noticed the uneven gait. Those are clinical observations any caseworker should've documented." "I have a lawyer military lawyer on the way. She'll be here on Saturday to talk and probably ask you what any Social Worker should have noticed in the least, so reports, please?" The doctor nodded, turning the thermal scan toward me again. "I'll flag her file for forensic review and annotate everything. But right now, we need to stabilize Leah." His finger traced the jagged line of the fracture. "Her urinary retention isn't just behavioral, it's mechanical. The fracture displaced her vertebrae enough to compress the sacral nerves. That's why she can't feel bladder pressure. And this," he tapped the surgical scarring, "was someone's attempt to fix it without proper imaging. They likely made it worse." "That means they either didn't have medical training, or they did it the least costly way they could and still went against medical protocol, right?" The doctor's jaw tightened. "Or they wanted to hide the injury." He pulled a penlight from his pocket, clicking it on and off absently. "We'll need full spinal imaging before hernia repair. Anesthesia carries higher risks with undiagnosed cord damage." "Damn. So that's going to delay them fixing her hernia and other problems even after the other necessary documentations are done, right?" I shook my head and took a heavy breath. "If you can't do anything right now, I want my baby to sleep with me. If she's not being treated yet, then I want her to feel safe, and that means probably clinging to Grandpa until it's impossible." The doctor hesitated, glancing back at Leah through the window. Her fingers had loosened from the sheets now, curling instead around the edge of her gown. "We can move her to a recovery room," he said finally. "But she'll need monitoring. And you'll need to understand, " His voice lowered further, "She may not react well to waking up in an unfamiliar place with tubes attached." "She already showed me that the first night I had her and had to take her to the bathroom when she was having trouble to get her in the shower. She has some strength in those fists. If I didn't know she was scared, I'd have reported elderly abuse." The doctor chuckled, but it was a tired sound. He handed me the clipboard. "Sign here for room transfer. And here," he tapped another line, "for provisional guardianship during medical procedures." The pen scratched against the paper, my signature looking more jagged than usual. "Until she gets used to the nurses that check on her regularly, only I touch her to change her pants when she's wet," I whispered. "When she gets used to one or two, then the ones she starts to trust can change her." The doctor nodded, scanning the signed forms before passing them to a waiting nurse. "Understood." Leah's transfer was quieter than I expected, just the squeak of gurney wheels and the occasional murmur of nurses adjusting her IV line. She didn't stir when they lifted her, her body limp under the thin hospital blanket. The recovery room smelled less like antiseptic and more like stale coffee and overheated electronics. A single chair had been pulled beside the bed, its vinyl upholstery cracked with age. "Grandpa is here," I whispered to her. "If you need to pee, try to pee, baby. It's been a few hours and you don't even know when you have pee inside, so Grandpa is going to start reminding you to try to pee off and on until the doctors see what they can do to fix it, okay?" Leah stirred weakly, her fingers twitching against the blanket. Her face was pale under the fluorescent lights, her lips slightly parted in sleep. The IV line trembled when she shifted, her body instinctively curling away from the foreign sensation. I sighed and pushed lightly at her bladder area trying to see if I could stimulate it into peeing. "Easy baby," I murmured as Leah whimpered in her sleep, her legs jerking slightly. The nurse hovered nearby with a fresh catheter bag, her eyes flicking between the monitors and Leah's tense shoulders. "She's not allowed a catheter right now," I told the nurse. "Check her chart. There's a lot going on inside, so they are being careful on how to relieve her bladder stress." The nurse nodded and put the catheter bag back on the counter. "I'll let Dr. Rosario know she's settled in." "Thank you. I'll just do this another minute or two, and if she doesn't pee, maybe give her another hour or two and try again." The nurse hesitated, her fingers tapping against the countertop before she nodded and slipped out, leaving the door slightly ajar behind her. The hum of the overhead lights filled the silence, mingling with the rhythmic beeping of Leah’s heart monitor. Her breathing was shallow but even, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks as she drifted deeper into sedation. My fingers pressed gently just below her navel, feeling the unnatural firmness there, not the soft give of an empty bladder but the taut resistance of one stretched beyond capacity. "Come on, baby, pee," I whispered. "Please pee. You are with Grandpa. You're allowed to wet the bed, baby." Leah's breath hitched in her sleep, her legs stiffening slightly. The monitors beeped faster for a moment, then settled back into their rhythm. Her bladder remained stubbornly distended under my fingers, refusing to release despite the gentle pressure. A faint sheen of sweat had broken out on her forehead, her brow furrowing in discomfort even through the sedation. I pressed the call button. I didn't think it was good for her to retain with her bladder stretched as it was. I knew it was fuller than normal people, but it kind of scared me she wouldn't pee at all, and then she started to sweat. The nurse came in, took one look at her, and then looked at me. "She's still retaining?" "Yeah, only it looks worse than than just normal. She looks feverish, too. Might be with her hernia blocking her bladder. The doctor said that's one of the complications." The nurse moved swiftly, adjusting the IV drip and pressing two fingers to Leah's wrist. Her pulse jumped under the touch, erratic and too fast. "Her temp's rising," she muttered, grabbing a thermometer from the wall unit. The digital readout flashed 101.3 by the time it beeped. "Get the doctor, please?" I asked nearly begging. The nurse hesitated only a second before nodding sharply and moving toward the door. The moment she left, I leaned closer to Leah, brushing damp hair from her forehead. Her skin burned under my fingertips. "Hang on, baby," I murmured. "Just hang on." Dr. Rosario arrived within minutes, his white coat flapping as he strode to the bedside. He didn’t speak at first, just pressed a stethoscope to Leah’s abdomen, his expression tightening as he listened. When he straightened, his voice was clipped. "Her bladder’s distended enough to cause reflex fever. We need to relieve the pressure, now." "Tell me what to do. I'll do anything that will save her. Anything!" Dr. Rosario grabbed the catheter kit himself, snapping on gloves with practiced efficiency. "Hold her hips steady. Not too tight, just enough to keep her from thrashing when she startles awake." His fingers probed Leah's inner thigh for the landmarks, then paused. "Actually, no. You talk to her. Keep her hearing your voice." "Yes sir. Baby? It's Grandpa. You need to pee really bad. We are going to help you go potty. Just focus on me. Do you want toys, still? How about a stuffy? Do you like Bears...?" Leah whimpered, her fingers twisting in the sheets as Dr. Rosario worked with swift precision. Her legs jerked involuntarily when the catheter slid in, her breath catching in a ragged gasp. I kept talking, my voice low and steady, recounting stupid details about the base commissary’s terrible coffee and how Sarah had once tried to smuggle a stray kitten into her backpack. Leah’s eyelids fluttered, her pupils dilated and unfocused when they finally opened, but her grip on my sleeve was iron-tight. "Baby...," I sighed. "We're just helping you go potty. You have to go really bad, but your body isn't letting you because organs are not where they are supposed to be, honey. They are working on a solution, but it's more complicated than we thought. Someone hurt you bad. Do you remember someone hitting your back worse than it had ever been hit or fell on it in a way that felt like you broke something?" Leah's fingers tightened on my sleeve, her breath coming in shallow hitches. Her eyes darted between my face and Dr. Rosario's hands, panic tightening her features. The catheter bag remained stubbornly empty. "It's okay. You just need to pee, baby. We weren't going to use this bag because of problems, but it's so bad, you are getting a fever. You need to try to pee, and more, we need to try to coax your hernia loose enough to let the pee out. You are not in trouble. We just want you to pee so you feel better, honey." Leah's breathing hitched unevenly, her fingers digging into my forearm as Dr. Rosario adjusted the catheter angle with careful precision. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, her pupils dilating further under the harsh lights. The monitor's beeping grew erratic, her heart rate spiking as her body rebelled against the intrusion. "I know, baby. I know," I whispered. "It doesn't feel good, but the sooner you pee, the sooner we can take it out. You are dangerously high, and it could back up into your kidneys causing worse damage. Just try to relax, just for a few moments so you can pee, baby." Her lips trembled, her toes curling against the sheets as her whole body tensed. Then, suddenly, her breath caught, and a thin trickle appeared in the catheter tube. Dr. Rosario exhaled sharply, adjusting the tubing slightly to encourage better flow. The trickle became a slow but steady stream, the bag gradually filling with dark, concentrated urine. "Good baby," I whispered. "Keep peeing, baby. Just keep it up as long as you can. It'll be over with soon. Good girl." Leah's grip loosened slightly on my sleeve, her breathing slowing as the feverish flush began to fade from her cheeks. Dr. Rosario kept his fingers braced against her thigh, monitoring the catheter's position with careful precision. The bag filled steadily, the dark yellow fluid a stark reminder of just how long Leah's body had been holding onto waste it couldn't release. I looked at the doctor. "You said the intestine is blocking her bladder, and that it has heavy impaction. Can we try to feed her something to make her poop to release the tension on her bladder neck?" Dr. Rosario hesitated, his fingers tapping against Leah's chart. "Not until we confirm the impaction's position," he murmured. "If we stimulate peristalsis with an obstruction this severe, we risk perforation." He motioned to the nurse. "Get me another ultrasound before we attempt anything." "There's not much she can do, with awareness about this, right? I mean, I am sure she sometimes holds her pee on purpose due to punishment, but this doesn't feel like a situation where she was holding it on purpose...?" Dr. Rosario shook his head, adjusting the catheter tubing with careful precision. "No. This is mechanical obstruction, not behavioral retention. Look." He tapped the ultrasound screen as it flickered to life, pointing to the shadowed mass pressing against Leah's bladder neck. "That's nearly eight centimeters of impacted stool. It's compressing the urethra like a kinked hose." "Surgery is the only thing that's going to fix that, I suppose?" Dr. Rosario nodded grimly, rotating the ultrasound probe to capture another angle. The image showed Leah's bladder deformed into an unnatural hourglass shape, pinched between the impacted mass and her displaced intestines. "We'll have to disimpact manually under anesthesia first. Then assess the hernia repair, her stomach's pushing through the diaphragm here." He indicated a pale smudge crowding her left lung field. "That's why she's been short of breath." "Yeah, I understood that part from earlier. I... I guess I'm just reaching for straws because I know that retaining pee too long can cause the kidneys to get backed up and if those get damaged, well, life is over as she knows it." The doctor glanced up from the ultrasound screen, his expression softening slightly. "Her kidneys are functioning, just stressed. The obstruction is recent, probably exacerbated by preoperative fasting." He motioned to the nurse. "Prep OR three. We'll need pediatric GI on standby." "How close can I be, at least until she loses consciousness before the surgery?" I asked tears in my eyes. Dr. Rosario hesitated, then nodded once. "Until anesthesia takes full effect. No further." He turned to the nurse. "Page anesthesia team stat, tell them we have respiratory compromise and autonomic instability. And get trauma peds on consult." I leaned closer to Leah, pressing my forehead against hers briefly. Her skin was cooler now, the fever breaking as her bladder emptied, but her breath came in shallow, uneven bursts. "You hear that, baby? They're gonna fix you up proper." My voice cracked despite myself. "I'll be right here until you're asleep, and I'll be waiting when you wake up." Her fingers twitched against mine, her lips moving soundlessly before she managed a hoarse whisper. "Don't...leave." I squeezed her hand tighter, not caring when the sudden warmth spread across my own thighs. The sharp scent of urine rose between us, my own bladder finally giving way after hours of terrified vigilance. "Not going anywhere, baby," I murmured, shifting just enough to keep the wet fabric from touching her IV lines. The nurse shot me a glance but said nothing, her hands busy prepping Leah's anesthesia port. Dr. Rosario's pager beeped twice before he ripped it from his waistband. "OR's ready," he announced, then hesitated as Leah's fingers clawed at my wrist. The tremor in her grip belied her fading consciousness, the sedatives finally overtaking her panic. "Count, baby," I asked. "Count until you fall asleep. When you wake up, you will feel better, I hope, but it will be a little sore...." Leah struggled against the anesthesia creeping over her. Her lips moved weakly, mouthing numbers without sound. The nurse adjusted the oxygen mask over her nose, fingers brushing Leah's cheek lightly. Leah flinched, but her resistance was fading, her eyelids fluttering like moth wings against glass. When she was gone, I looked down. "Sorry about the mess. I'll mop it up. I just couldn't leave her... I... think you understand?" The nurse nodded silently and tossed me a clean pair of surgical scrubs from the cabinet. "Change before you track it all over recovery," she murmured, already mopping the floor with efficient strokes. Her face gave nothing away, but she didn't call housekeeping, just handled it herself, quick and quiet. Military medical, I thought. They'd seen worse. I stripped off my soaked jeans right there, not caring about modesty. The scrubs were stiff and smelled of industrial detergent, but they were dry. I balled up my ruined clothes and shoved them into the hazardous waste bin without hesitation. "She say anything else while I was getting the supplies earlier?" I asked, nodding toward Leah's empty bed as they wheeled her out. The nurse hesitated, her fingers tightening around the mop handle. "Just kept asking if you were coming back." She glanced at the closed OR doors. "You military?" "Retired. She's my first kid, though. So...." The nurse's expression shifted slightly, her grip loosening on the mop. "She's lucky to have you." She flicked a glance at the monitors still displaying Leah's vitals, heart rate stabilizing, oxygen levels improving. "Most fosters wouldn't stick through this kind of... mess." "That's exactly what is wrong with that messed up...," I calmed myself before I said something that could get me thrown out of the hospital. "... they put kids with the most messed up people, and then when someone decent gets them... well, I'm struggling. I'm trying, but I don't always know what to do. But she's my baby, and I'm not going to let her go back to that. You should have seen the fear in her when I first got her yesterday!" The nurse paused mid-mop, her shoulders stiffening. "Yesterday?" She turned slowly, her eyes scanning my face with sudden intensity. "You got her yesterday, and she's already in surgery?" "This abuse has been going on forever," I nodded. "They taught her to hold it until she wets herself, and then yell at her and punish her and humiliate her in front of the whole school, calling her the behavioral problem when all she's trying to do, is be a normal kid... and can't stop from wetting herself when she's told to wait more than 6 hours! And then I find out someone injured her back... the doctor told us earlier this evening, and they injured her so bad, they basically broke her spine and then didn't even take care of it right, but tried to repair it in a way that hid what they did, and well, it's just...." And I started crying. The emotional stress grew too much, and I couldn't keep it in any longer. The nurse set the mop aside and pulled a packet of tissues from her pocket. "Here," she said quietly. "You're doing right by her now." She hesitated, then added, "I've seen cases like this before. Military brats, mostly. Parents who think discipline means breaking kids." Her voice was low, bitter. "They get creative with punishments. Make it look like accidents." "I better not find a military person mistreating a kid, theirs or otherwise like this," I frowned. "Officer or not, I am retired. I don't care about punishment for myself anymore. I mean... military! They should know better. They should have the self control to realize they are dealing with children, not the fucking enemy!" The nurse pressed her lips together, glancing at the surgical board where Leah’s case blinked in urgent red. "Not always," she murmured. "Some people enlist to get power, not serve. And kids... well, they can’t fight back." She wiped her hands on her scrubs, the motion brisk, practiced. "You want coffee? OR’s gonna be hours." "No. I don't want her smelling anything on my breath that might remind her of her abusive stays. Maybe something childish... hot cocoa or something?" The nurse nodded, motioning toward the staff lounge. "They keep instant packets by the microwave. Marshmallows too." She hesitated, watching me rub my temples. "You should sit down before you fall down. Your BP’s probably spiked." "Yeah. I've not rested, really since last night when they brought her to my house. Got maybe 4 hours of sleep but she woke up around 4 completely terrified she had had an accident in her sleep." The nurse guided me toward a plastic chair near the nursing station, her grip firm but not unkind. "Sit. I'll get your cocoa." She disappeared down the hall, her rubber-soled shoes squeaking against the linoleum. I slumped into the chair, my knees finally giving out. The adrenaline that had kept me upright for the past twenty-four hours was leaching away, leaving behind a hollow exhaustion. My hands trembled when I lifted them to scrub at my face, Leah’s scent still clung to my skin, that sharp, frightened-child smell of sweat and urine and the faint medicinal tang of the hospital soap. Sleep overtook me before the nurse was back. The clink of a ceramic mug on the laminate table jolted me awake. The nurse, her nametag read "Lt. Vasquez", pushed the cocoa toward me, steam curling in lazy spirals. "Drink," she said. Not unkindly. "You’ll be no good to her if you collapse." "Vasquez? Are you related to a lawyer that's Military?" I suddenly asked her. She blinked, her fingers tightening around her own coffee mug. "Elena's my sister," she admitted after a beat. "Small world." "She's the one helping me circumvent CPS not allowing me to let the child see a doctor." Lieutenant Vasquez exhaled sharply through her nose, her grip tightening around her coffee mug. "That explains the urgency flags on your paperwork." She glanced toward the surgical doors, her professional mask slipping just enough to reveal the tightness around her eyes. "Elena mentioned a case involving deliberate medical neglect. Didn't realize she meant pediatric spinal fractures." "I don't think she even knows that yet. We just found out, didn't we? But it's not just my kid. She's already been studying my friend's case. That's what pointed us to each other." Vasquez's expression hardened. "Sarah Calloway." Not a question. "Sarah is the patient, yes. Her mom has been trying to prove her dad was mistreating her for years, for control over guardianship, but he finally made a fatal flaw this week. And I intend to capitalize on that flaw to its fullest. He basically admitted that his daughter was having bladder problems while trying to prove his mother unfit, and his mother is the one that's been decrying that that's the case, and we find out earlier, the medical was caused by the forced fluids he made her drink all the time to try to prove the mother incapable." Vasquez set her coffee down with deliberate precision. "Coercive hydration," she murmured, more to herself than to me. Her fingers twitched toward her phone before she caught herself. "That explains the electrolyte imbalances in Sarah's labs. And the dilation." "Poor kid poops her pants sometimes now, but we are working on getting her to see a specialist to clear it up, after the Military confirms the signs so Vasquez, your sister, can fight properly for her." Lieutenant Vasquez's jaw tightened. She pulled a pen from her breast pocket and scribbled something on a napkin, a string of numbers, letters. "Give this to Elena. It's the access code for Sarah’s archived medical records from when she was stationed here at six. Her father wasn’t stationed overseas yet, just stateside. There’s a pattern." She tore the napkin neatly in half, handing me one piece. "Destroy it after. Chain of custody matters." "Thank you. I know she'll appreciate it." Lieutenant Vasquez nodded once, her fingers lingering on the napkin before she withdrew her hand. The silence stretched between us, filled only with the distant hum of medical equipment and the muffled chatter of nurses at their station. I folded the napkin carefully into my shirt pocket, feeling the weight of Sarah’s past pressing against my ribs. "I am doing the right thing, right? Encouraging my grandbaby to wet her pants until she starts peeing normally and without guilt?" I asked the nurse. Lieutenant Vasquez regarded me with an unreadable expression before answering. "You're reversing years of conditioned terror," she said. "Sarah will heal faster knowing she won't be punished for basic bodily functions." She paused, swirling her coffee. "But don't confuse patience with passivity. That man deserves to burn." I nodded. "I mean, Leah, too... especially Leah. Leah is so scared of being humiliated and shame and everyone seeing her pee, that she holds it for hours on purpose... which while she has other concerns, that has definitely played a part in her health deterioration." Lieutenant Vasquez’s gaze flicked to the OR doors again. "She’ll need rehab. Physically. Mentally. Both." She said it like she was reciting a checklist, but something in her voice cracked. "They always do." "I will be happy to help her through that, once she knows she's allowed to wet herself, first." Lieutenant Vasquez exhaled sharply, almost a laugh, but not quite. "You’re a stubborn bastard, Greene. Good." She glanced at her watch, then toward the surgical board. "Two more hours, at least. You should, " Her words cut off as a shrill alarm blared from the OR. The red light above Leah’s case number began flashing in rapid pulses. Vasquez was already moving, her coffee abandoned. "Code Blue," she snapped over her shoulder. "Stay here." I didn’t stay. I was halfway to the OR doors when Jennifer and Sarah appeared around the corner, Sarah clutching her mother’s arm, her face pale under the hospital’s fluorescent lights. Jennifer’s eyes were red-rimmed, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Jim," she said, her voice strained. "They called us back. Said something about Leah’s chart needing verification." "She's in OR right now. I am actually not supposed to be out here, but well, come back to the rest area they had me in and talk to me. The nurse or someone will be back as soon as Leah is okay." Jennifer nodded and Sarah looked terrified, but I ushered them back to the nurses' lounge where Lt. Vasquez had left my cocoa. It was cold now, but I didn't care. Jennifer sat next to me, her fingers twisting in her lap. Sarah leaned against her mother, eyes darting toward the hallway every few seconds. "Sarah, drink. It will calm you." I pushed the now cold chocolate to her. "Leah is in good hands. She's just had more complications than we thought." Sarah took the cup but didn't sip. Her fingers trembled around the ceramic, her knuckles whitening. Jennifer squeezed her shoulder, but Sarah didn't react, her gaze fixed on the hallway where Lt. Vasquez had vanished. The hospital's PA system crackled, announcing a rapid response team to OR Three, and Sarah flinched so hard cocoa sloshed over her fingers. "She'll be okay," I said resolved. "She's being worked on with the best people, and oh, Vasquez has a sister." I took the paper napkin she gave me. "This has info your lawyer will need to get records released from when Sarah was around six. She seems to know about the court order, but it seems that she thinks this was not in that sealing order." Jennifer took it, puzzled. "Vasquez? The nurse is Vasquez? Elena Vasquez's sister?" "She's the one that was sitting with me when I was trying to calm Leah before she went into OR. She was supposed to wait for Operation, but things got ugly, so they had to start despite the doctor having wanted to wait for some other things to fall in place first. That's likely why the codes all over the place. Not necessarily bad, just precaution, I pray." Jennifer unfolded the napkin carefully, her fingers brushing the smudged ink as Sarah peered over her shoulder. The numbers meant nothing to me, but Jennifer's breath hitched. "These are serial identifiers from Pendleton's pediatric ward," she whispered. "Sarah was hospitalized here for 'dehydration' twice when she was six. Her father listed himself as sole guardian both times. Elena couldn't access these before, they were classified under his service record." "I don't think she was supposed to give those to you. You have to destroy it after you use the numbers to get what you need or someone that's trying to help might get in trouble." Jennifer folded the napkin into her palm like it was a live grenade. "Elena's been trying to get these for years," she said, her voice low. "He had them buried under operational security protocols. Said they were related to his deployment readiness evaluations." Sarah pressed closer to her mother, her fingers twisting in the hem of her shirt. The hospital's overhead lights flickered, casting long shadows across the lounge. Somewhere down the hall, a cart rattled, the sound echoing like gunfire in the tense silence. "So help me, your Ex better hope I don't find out where his military station is. If I so much as get wind of who his current commander is, he will not have a good time. He is still enlisted, right?" Jennifer nodded slowly. "Yes, but, " She stopped herself, glancing at Sarah's hunched shoulders. "Later." Her fingers tapped a nervous rhythm against the armrest. The silence stretched until Sarah suddenly pushed the cold cocoa away, her breath hitching in shallow gasps. I recognized the signs, she was seconds from bolting or vomiting. Jennifer cupped Sarah’s face, forcing eye contact. "Breathe. You're safe here. Leah's safe." "Baby?" I whispered. "I only meant to help. You know you don't have to drink the cocoa, right? I thought you might want some, not that you have to drink it. I'm not trying to make you do something your body doesn't want. You can put the cup down, baby." Sarah let out a shuddering breath, her fingers unclenching around the mug. The ceramic clattered against the table as she pushed it away, cocoa sloshing onto the laminate. Jennifer didn't scold her. She just pulled Sarah into her lap like she was six again, rocking slightly, her lips pressed to her daughter's temple. "You know, even if I offer, you never drink anything you don't want to around us, and if anyone ever suggests you do, you make sure you let your mommy and Grandpa know, right?" Sarah nodded against Jennifer's shoulder, her fingers digging into her mother's sleeve. The overhead lights flickered again, casting strange shadows across Sarah's face, she looked younger suddenly, fragile in a way that had nothing to do with her thirteen years. Jennifer mouthed "thank you" over Sarah's head, her eyes wet. I nodded. "Sarah. Pee, baby. I mean if you need to. It's okay. No one will be mad." Sarah whimpered against Jennifer's chest, her legs pressing together under the hospital chair. Jennifer's hands moved instinctively to Sarah's waistband, but Sarah shook her head violently. The terror in her eyes was too familiar, Leah wore it the same way. "Don't make her pull her pants down, Jenny. She can wet her pants. I have money if you need to go to the PX and get her clean pants tomorrow before you take her to see the doctor." Jennifer hesitated, her hands hovering over Sarah's waistband. Sarah shook harder, her breath coming in shallow gasps. The scent of cocoa mixed with something sharper, fear sweat, the kind that prickled the back of my neck in Kandahar. Sarah's knees knocked together under the chair, her sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. "Come here, baby," I whispered to Sarah. "Come on. Grandpa understands. You are scared about Leah, and you don't want to leave the room until you know she's safe, and you're not sure when you are going to start peeing. Right? Come on, talk to Grandpa, baby." Sarah's breath hitched as she peeled herself from Jennifer's grip. Her socks made damp patches on the floor where she shuffled toward me, her arms crossed tight over her stomach. The overhead fluorescents buzzed, casting stark light on the faint tracks of old tears on her cheeks. "Baby? It's okay if you pee in Grandpa's lap. But don't hold it once you start leaking. We don't need you having some of the same problems Leah has. You already have your own troubles, okay?" Sarah's hands trembled as she reached for mine, her fingers cold and damp. She didn't speak, but her grip tightened when the PA system crackled again, another stat page for OR Three. Jennifer hovered behind us, her knuckles pressed to her mouth. I got up carrying Sarah with me, and walked into the hall to try to get someone to stop and tell me something. "Doctor... Nurse... Nurse...?" Nobody stopped, but a nurse noticed me, and walked over, "They're working. She's stable but they're doing a lot of repairs. The doctor will come talk to you soon." "That's all I wanted to know. Thank you. We were getting scared, weren't we Sarah?" Sarah's grip on my shirt loosened slightly, her damp cheek resting against my shoulder. The nurse's eyes flickered to the wet spot spreading down Sarah's jeans, but she said nothing, just nodded and disappeared down the hall. Jennifer hovered behind us, her fingers twisting in the hem of her own shirt. I carried Sarah into the break room. Sitting down, I whispered. "All the way, baby. You're already wet. No holding it. You didn't make a puddle yet, so I know you're not done, baby. You're not in trouble, and this has nothing to do with your mom taking care of you, and the hospital staff know it, okay?" Sarah shuddered against my chest, her breath hot through my shirt. The warm dampness spread slowly down her legs, soaking into the fabric of my jeans. Jennifer knelt beside us, her hands hovering, not touching, just present. The overhead lights hummed, casting long shadows across Sarah's tear-streaked face. "You want to hold your daughter?" I asked Jennifer. "Trust me, if the nurses document you holding our wet daughter, that will tell more than any lies your ex can come up with. Doctors understand trauma and a parents' need to comfort their children after an accident, especially from a teen girl." Jennifer hesitated only a second before gathering Sarah into her arms, damp jeans and all. Sarah buried her face in her mother's neck, her fingers clutching Jennifer's collar like a lifeline. The smell of urine mixed with hospital antiseptic, but Jennifer didn't flinch. She just rocked Sarah gently, humming something low and tuneless. I stood stiffly, my own pants clinging uncomfortably where Sarah had leaked. A passing orderly glanced at us, the trembling teenager in soaked clothes, the middle-aged man with damp trousers, the mother's white-knuckled grip, and quickly looked away. Some stories didn't need explanations in places like this. The PA crackled again, a garbled announcement about OR Three shifting to recovery status. Jennifer's head snapped up, her arms tightening around Sarah. Before I could move, Lt. Vasquez rounded the corner, her scrubs splattered with something dark that couldn't be blood, not if Leah was okay, but my throat closed anyway. "She's stable." Vasquez peeled off her gloves, the latex snapping against her wrists. "Repaired the hernia, decompressed the bladder. Found adhesions from old injuries, " Her gaze flicked to Sarah's wet jeans, then back to my face. "They're closing now. Another hour." Sarah made a small, wounded noise against Jennifer's shoulder. Vasquez crouched beside them, her voice dropping. "Listen, kid. Leah asked for you both after they extubated her. Kept saying 'Sarah' and 'Grandpa' through the sedation." She pressed a crumpled recovery room pass into Jennifer's shaking hand. "They'll take you when she's out of PACU." Jennifer exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around the paper. Sarah lifted her head, her cheeks still wet, but her breathing steadier now. The fluorescent light caught the silvery tracks of old scars on her wrists, parallel lines too precise for accidents. Vasquez noticed too; her jaw hardened, but she only said, "Clean clothes in the pediatric ward locker. Third cabinet." I nodded, watching Jennifer guide Sarah down the hall, one hand pressed protectively against her daughter's damp back. Vasquez waited until they turned the corner before speaking again. "You should know, Leah's injuries weren't just from neglect." She pulled a tablet from her hip pocket, tapping it awake. The screen showed thermal imaging of a spine, the vertebrae glowing like a heat map. "These fractures are deliberate. Someone knew how to inflict maximum nerve damage without visible trauma." "Wait. You are telling me that someone abusing her... didn't accidentally cause the injuries due to violence, but knew exactly what they were doing and purposefully destroying that child?" I felt my eyes narrow. "That fucking Mr. Snyde better not be the one I see in two weeks. There is no fucking way he didn't know about this!" Vasquez’s jaw tightened as she swiped to another image, Leah’s bladder, illuminated in stark blues and reds. "Nerve damage here suggests repeated, targeted trauma. The kind you’d see in interrogation techniques." She paused, her voice lowering further. "Jim, her file’s flagged with a military case number. Not CPS. Not civilian law enforcement. Someone in the system knew." "How do we... sorry, wrong Vasquez. Your sister is the lawyer. But since you are sisters, can you flag this to her, and tell her I want a different CPS office to look into this and to finish the process of putting this baby with me? I'll adopt her, no questions, if the State will allow it." Vasquez pocketed the tablet, her expression unreadable. "They will. Military jurisdiction trumps CPS when active-duty personnel are implicated. Elena’s already filed emergency custody petitions under the Uniform Code of Military Justice." She glanced down the hall where Sarah’s faint sobs echoed. "But Jim, the fractures? They’re old. Years. Whoever did this had training." "They were military, then?" I asked. "How do we make sure the Military doesn't cover for the bastard?" Vasquez hesitated. The hum of hospital machinery filled the space between us. "Depends," she finally said, her voice low. "Depends if they think Leah's more valuable as evidence or as collateral damage." "Then we make sure her treatment becomes a liability," I fumed. "We play warfare. We get the news involved and other people, not implicating the Military, but just making it so the Military sees cover it up as more a liability than an asset." Vasquez exhaled sharply through her nose, her fingers tapping against her thigh in a slow, deliberate rhythm, like counting ammunition. "That’s Elena’s angle already. She’s leaking select case details to civilian oversight committees, not enough to compromise Leah, just enough to ensure accountability." She glanced at the recovery room doors. "But Jim, this isn’t just about Leah anymore. If Sarah’s father is active-duty, " She let the implication hang between us. "This stuff is going on in this area. Is it world wide, or is it limited to this area?" I asked. "Or do you know? If it's a certain base or area, it would be easy for the Military to fix and in their best interest to remove officers that allowed it to happen and punish those they can find to court martial. If it's service wide, it's going to be a much bigger fight." Vasquez shook her head, her fingers tightening around the tablet's edge. "I don’t know. That’s the problem. Leah’s case file had redactions deeper than her injuries. Someone scrubbed her origins clean." She hesitated, then lowered her voice further. "But when I ran her scars through the forensic database, the pattern matched archived files from a black site interrogation manual. Decommissioned in '09 after the Senate hearings." "Is there a chance that Leah isn't a citizen, and therefore not under the protection of citizenship laws?" Vasquez's grip on the tablet whitened her knuckles. "Possible. But unlikely, given the foster placement." "Please talk to your sister. I think the two of you collaborating is going to be the easiest way to get information back and forth without it being intercepted, in person rather than phone, if you can?" Vasquez nodded, glancing at the security camera in the ceiling corner. She tucked the tablet under her arm and pulled out a pen, scribbling something on the back of a glove before handing it to me. "Burn this after. Elena's safehouse coordinates. Bring both girls tomorrow at 1400 hours." "What of Sarah seeing a civilian doctor tomorrow?" Vasquez hesitated before answering, her fingers drumming against her thigh. "Deniability. Civilian records complicate military interference. Have Dr. Rosario refer her, his clinic has encrypted backups." She peeled off her second glove, scrawling another note. "Burn this too. Pediatric trauma specialist, ex-Navy, knows when to document and when to stay quiet." "I'm not sure how we meet at Elena's safehouse tomorrow and get Sarah to the doctor plus Leah is still going to be in the hospital recovering here, right?" Vasquez shook her head, glancing at the recovery room doors again. "Leah's being discharged to your care tonight. They'll claim it's standard procedure, surgical follow-up by home health nurses to free up beds." She hesitated, then leaned in closer. "But the truth? They want her out of this hospital before higher-ups start asking questions about those scans." "Got it. So everything else will be out of pocket then?" Vasquez frowned, the harsh light catching the lines around her mouth. "Not exactly. The Army’s footing Leah’s medical bills, officially for dependent care, unofficially to keep the paper trail internal. But Sarah’s civilian treatment?" She exhaled sharply. "That’ll be trickier. Jennifer’s insurance is tied to her ex-husband’s service benefits." "Sarah can file for Social insurance with welfare, though, and with my retirement, I can try to help cover with the Ex-Navy doctor you talked about?" Vasquez nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Yes. But Jim, don’t use your name on anything. If Jennifer’s ex is still active-duty, he could trace payments back." She glanced over her shoulder as footsteps approached, a nurse wheeling Leah’s bed toward recovery, the girl’s small frame barely visible under the blankets, her face pale against the oxygen tubing. Vasquez lowered her voice further. "Elena’s arranged a shell nonprofit for medical grants. Untraceable." "Don't worry. I'll only pay cash where I have to. Cash is harder to paper trail." Vasquez nodded, her gaze flicking to Leah's approaching hospital bed. The wheels squeaked faintly against the linoleum, the sound incongruously cheerful against the tension in the hallway. Leah's fingers twitched under the thin hospital blanket, her eyelids fluttering as sedation wore off. The nurse slowed, her expression carefully neutral. "She's asking for you," she murmured to me. "Do me a favor? Find a way to get those numbers to the Ex-Navy doctor that you wanted Jennifer to have. If it comes from an unknown source, the records can't be traced on how the hospital got hold of the records. It might help in Sarah's care?" Vasquez exhaled sharply, nodding once. "Already done." She peeled off her badge, pressing it into my palm with a folded scrap of paper underneath. "Burn this too. Clinic address and protocol for signal flares." Her fingers lingered on mine for half a second too long, a warning. "They'll know you're coming." I nodded. "Do we sneak out tonight, after Leah's fit for travel?" Vasquez glanced toward the nurse adjusting Leah’s IV line, her voice barely audible. "Better now, before shift change. Less paperwork, less witnesses." She tapped the folded badge against my palm once before stepping back. "Take the service elevators. Basement level three has a loading dock, Elena’s contact will meet you there with a van." "Come," I told Jennifer. "Now I know why they called you to get up in the middle of the night. We move now." Jennifer hesitated, glancing at Sarah curled in her lap, eyes wide with exhaustion and fear. Her fingers tightened around her daughter’s shoulders. "She needs, " she started, then stopped. The unspoken hung between us, Sarah’s wet clothes, Leah’s stitches, the impossibility of moving two traumatized girls in the dead of night without breaking them further. "She wears her wet pants for now. We don't have time. We need to be out of here before shift change, and there is a chance the powers that don't want this story out are already on to us. They are sending Leah home either way, tomorrow, way too early with some excuse of home care. My contacts can only do so much. Your daughter will be seen my another contact that isn't part of the Military anymore." Jennifer looked at Sarah's wet pants, and then at Sarah's eyes. She wiped Sarah's cheeks and hugged her tight. "Sarah, get in bed with Leah," I whispered. "Be careful, she's hurt. We need to move and I know it's going to be hard, but we change your pants in the morning. We can't take a chance of going back to Billeting tonight." Sarah curled against Leah's side, tucking the blanket around them both with trembling hands. Leah stirred but didn't wake, her breath shallow and uneven. I grabbed the IV stand, wheeled it toward the door, and saw Jennifer hesitate, her fingers twitching toward Sarah's wet jeans. "Leave her pants on her, Jennifer. Trust me. We want these kids out of here before something happens. I think your husband has a contingency plan in place. That's the only reason they can be this scared this soon about helping us. Someone had to have known to keep on alert, and since Leah is a new variable, it only stands to reason, your ex is involved." Jennifer's hands froze mid-air, her knuckles whitening before she pulled them back to her sides. The nurse gave us a sharp look, but Vasquez stepped forward, blocking her view with a clipboard. "Room 8C needs discharge papers," she said briskly, her tone brooking no argument. The nurse hesitated, then turned away, footsteps fading down the hall. "That nurse was too curious," I said. "Combat alertness. You spot dangers and assess. She might be just a curious bystander, but we take no chances. We assume she knows something and is reporting it. Vasquez, you are with us now. You are in danger if you stay." Vasquez hesitated, then nodded sharply. "Agreed. My car's in the staff lot. I'll meet you at the loading dock." She disappeared down the hallway, her shoes silent on the tile, moving like someone who knew how to vanish when needed. "Sorry, Jennifer, but piss your pants. We will not stop for a toilet until we get where we are going, and I know you've not really been to the toilet much today. Just piss it's not that big a deal." Jennifer looked at me like I was insane, her cheeks flushing. Sarah whimpered against Leah's side, her fingers clutching the blanket. The IV stand rattled as I pushed it toward the door, my other hand gripping the bed rail. The overhead lights flickered, just once, but it was enough to make Jennifer jump. "Jennifer, I wouldn't command it if it were not necessary. Soldiers don't piss themselves unless its the only way out of a situation. Right now, we don't need you concentrating on your bladder. You need to concentrate on your daughter getting safe, and the best way to do that, is remove the urgency in your bladder. Now please. Do it. I've already done. Vasquez will tell you later when we meet up with her." Jennifer's lips trembled, but she nodded, her shoulders slumping as she released the tension in her abdomen. A quiet sound, barely audible over the hum of hospital machinery, followed by the darkening stain spreading down her jeans. Sarah's eyes widened, but she didn't speak, just pressed closer to Leah's sleeping form. "Sarah, that's your mother. Don't watch. We are doing this for your safety, so you keep your mind on your sleeping friend and let your mother do what she needs to keep you safe." Sarah turned her face into Leah's shoulder, fingers twisting the hospital gown fabric. Jennifer exhaled sharply, her whole body rigid with humiliation even as relief flooded her system. The smell of urine mingled with antiseptic, the scent of fear and survival in this sterile place that wasn't safe at all. "No judgement. Everyone we will see from here on out, ex-military and those that work closely with it, understand evacuation emergencies. The news never shows the messy side of things." The wheels of Leah’s bed squeaked louder as I pushed through the double doors into the dimly lit hallway. Jennifer followed close behind, her damp jeans clinging to her thighs with every step. Sarah kept one hand on Leah’s blanket, the other gripping the bed rail as we moved toward the service elevator. A janitor looked up from his mop bucket, took in our ragged group, the girl in wet clothes, the woman with shaking hands, the old man steering an unconscious child’s bed, and pointedly looked away. The elevator doors slid open just as a man in fatigues rounded the corner. Not just any soldier, Craigger’s man, the one who’d processed Leah’s paperwork earlier with a little too much interest. His boots scuffed against the tile as he stopped short, eyes flicking from Leah’s IV drip to Sarah’s tear-streaked face. "Maintenance only," he said flatly, tapping the sign beside the elevator. Vasquez’s warning echoed in my head, *less paperwork, less witnesses*, but this wasn’t some curious nurse. This man knew. His fingers twitched toward his radio before I stepped forward, blocking his view of the girls. "Fire exit’s jammed," I lied, nodding toward the stairwell he’d just sealed behind him with a swipe of his badge. "Alarm would’ve tripped if we’d tried it." His gaze flicked to Jennifer’s damp jeans, then Sarah’s tear-streaked face pressed against Leah’s shoulder. "Regulations," he said, but his voice lacked conviction. Craigger’s men didn’t patrol hospital basements without reason. The elevator doors began to slide shut. Jennifer lunged forward, her body blocking the sensor. "Sir," she said, voice cracking, "my daughter’s catheter bag needs emptying." A desperate lie, Sarah had no catheter, but the soldier’s eyes dropped to Leah’s IV pole, the tubing snaking under the blanket. His hesitation lasted half a second too long. That was all we needed. I shoved the bed forward, wheels catching the soldier’s boot as he stumbled back. The elevator doors closed on his startled curse. Sarah whimpered, fingers digging into Leah’s blanket as the descent began. The overhead light flickered again, casting shadows across Jennifer’s ashen face. "He recognized us," Jennifer whispered. Her damp jeans clung to her legs, the scent of urine sharp in the enclosed space. The soldier’s badge swipe had sealed the stairwell, fire exit only, rigged to trip alarms if opened. No one would follow that way now, but he’d radio ahead. Sarah pressed her face into Leah’s hospital gown. "He looked at me like Dad does," she murmured. Jennifer stiffened, her fingers tightening around the bed rail. The elevator groaned as it descended, the machinery older than Sarah’s fear. I watched the floor numbers tick down, three, two, one, each one slower than it should’ve been. Hospitals didn’t slow elevators without reason. "He didn’t just recognize us," I muttered. "He was posted there." Craigger’s men didn’t wander. They stationed. That swipe of his badge hadn’t just sealed the stairwell, it had flagged it. If we’d tried that door, alarms would’ve screamed through the building like a tripped fire drill, drawing every MP within half a mile. Jennifer’s breath hitched. "They were waiting for us." The elevator shuddered to a stop. The doors slid open onto a dimly lit loading dock, empty except for Vasquez leaning against a dented van, her posture casual but her fingers tapping the driver’s side door in uneven bursts, morse code for hurry. "Low," she hissed as we pushed Leah’s bed toward her. Jennifer ducked immediately, pulling Sarah down with her. I shoved the bed forward, the wheels catching on a cracked pavement seam. Vasquez yanked the van’s side door open, her eyes darting to the security camera above the dock’s exit. "Craigger’s man is driving. Don’t ask questions." The driver didn’t turn as we loaded Leah inside. His uniform sleeves were rolled to the elbows, revealing scars that weren’t from combat, thin, parallel lines that matched the latticework on Leah’s back. Sarah whimpered as Jennifer bundled her onto the floorboards, her wet jeans squeaking against the vinyl. The van smelled of antiseptic and diesel, with an undertone of sweat from too many rushed evacuations. Ducking low, I caught the driver’s reflection in the rearview mirror, Craigger’s man from the elevator, his jaw tight beneath the shadow of his cap. His fingers tapped the wheel in the same staccato rhythm Vasquez had used earlier. A question burned in my throat: why block us upstairs only to smuggle us out now? But Vasquez shook her head sharply, pressing a finger to her lips as she slid the side door shut. The van lurched forward, tires crunching over loose gravel. Sarah gasped as Leah’s IV line tugged, the bag swaying violently from its makeshift hook. Jennifer clutched both girls to her chest, her damp jeans leaving streaks on the vinyl floor. Outside, floodlights swept across the loading dock, illuminating a cluster of MPs scanning clipboards. The driver didn’t slow. Instead, he flicked his high beams twice, a signal, and the soldiers stepped back, their postures stiff with reluctant recognition. "Only when we’re off base," the soldier muttered, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. His voice was lower now, rougher, like gravel grinding under boot soles. "Security cameras. Had to make a show." He swerved sharply onto the service road, avoiding the checkpoint’s glare. Sarah whimpered as Leah’s head lolled against her shoulder, the motion jostling her surgical site. The driver’s knuckles whitened on the wheel. "They know Craigger’s in charge of security for the experimental program Sarah’s in. Had to make the cameras think I was following orders to stop you, not Craigger’s real orders to get you out." "Evac gear in the back," the soldier said. "Extra clothes and everything. You will dump what you are wearing at the side of the street up here, including any clothes both the children have on. It will look like that's where you disappeared to, making them focus on a decoy redherring." Jennifer hesitated, glancing at Sarah's wet jeans and Leah's hospital gown. The soldier's jaw tightened. "Ma'am, respectfully, those clothes will have trackers. Hospital issue is tagged. Even civilian wear gets RFID threads now." He jerked his chin toward a duffel bag behind the passenger seat. "Clean stuff's there. No tags." Sarah whimpered when Jennifer tugged at her waistband, her fingers clutching Leah's blanket like an anchor. Leah stirred slightly, her eyelids fluttering as the van hit a pothole. I reached for the duffel, my hands brushing against folded sweatpants, plain cotton underwear, socks still stiff from packaging. Nothing with seams that could hide a chip. "I know, Sarah," I whispered. "It's important we do this. You can undo your pants under the blankets if you want, but the bed will be wet, so when you put your panties on, just sit on the edge of the bed and then get out into some panties, okay?" I looked at Jennifer. "That's why I said to go ahead an piss yourself in there. I knew we'd be getting clothes as soon as it was safe to do so." Sarah gasped softly, her fingers gripping the hem of Leah's hospital gown. The soldier's hands flexed on the wheel as we hit another rough patch of road, the van's suspension groaning. "Craigger's got teams watching all exits," he muttered. "But they're looking for a frantic group trying to sneak out, not a routine transport with proper clearance." His gaze flicked to the rearview again, checking the girls. "Change them now. Once we hit the city limits, you'll have two minutes at a gas station before we ditch this vehicle." I sighed and started to unbutton Jennifer's pants. "I'm sorry. I know you're nervous. Once I get you started, you'll see you have no choice, then we'll get the kids undressed." Jennifer trembled, but didn't resist as I worked the button loose. The van hit another pothole, jostling us all, and Sarah let out a small cry as Leah's IV line jerked. The driver's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror again, his grip tightening on the wheel. "Hurry," he muttered. "We're approaching the gate." "Step out. Jennifer. I'll start undressing Sarah." Jennifer hesitated, her fingers clenched around the duffel bag strap. The van slowed as we approached the gate, floodlights bleaching the interior white for half a second before the soldier rolled down his window and flashed credentials at the guard. "Routine transfer," he barked, his voice suddenly younger, higher-pitched, the perfect impersonation of a fresh recruit following orders. The guard’s flashlight beam swept over us, lingering on Sarah’s tear-streaked face pressed against Leah’s shoulder. I kept my grip loose on Jennifer’s waistband, my other hand shielding Leah’s IV line from view. "Didn't see a black van coming this way did you?" the man at the gate asked. "We'll looking for security risks." "No. Nothing behind me but personal vehicles," the driver shrugged. "They probably went the other way, the back way to hide from detection, if they are trying to sneak off base." Jennifer stifled a breath as the guard's flashlight beam swung toward the duffel bag. My fingers tightened imperceptibly on Sarah's shoulder, steady now, don't flinch, but the soldier just scoffed and tossed his clipboard onto the dash. "Figures. Always sending us rookies to check the wrong exits." The gate lifted with a hydraulic whine. As soon as we cleared the perimeter, the driver's posture slumped. His fingers drummed the wheel in that same jagged rhythm, three quick, two slow, while floodlights receded behind us. "Cameras rotate every ninety seconds," he muttered. "Next checkpoint's civilian. You've got until mile marker seven to ditch the tagged clothes." "Now, Jennifer. Get yourself undressed, or I'll come and treat you like one of the kids. I'm serious. We are putting the children in danger the longer we hold on to these tagged clothes." Jennifer flinched, her hands moving instinctively to cover Sarah's ears, too late. The girl had already stiffened, her pupils dilating at the threat in my voice. But necessity outweighed delicacy now. I reached past her and yanked the duffel open, scattering clean clothes across the van floor. The soldier's jaw twitched as he accelerated onto the highway, his eyes locked on the rearview mirror. "Sarah, up, now," I barked. "I might sound scary right now, but this is not the time to be gentle. I'm sorry. If you gotta pee, just pee. I know you're scared. But your clothes are coming off, now." Sarah hiccuped a sob but didn't resist as I peeled her wet jeans down her trembling legs. The van swerved onto an exit ramp, tires screeching. Jennifer's fingers fumbled at her own buttons, too slow. I grabbed the waistband of her pants and yanked hard, the fabric tearing at the seams. She gasped but didn't protest, kicking free of the tangled denim as I tossed it toward the sliding door. "Shirt off, too, Sarah. Bra and everything. Nothing they can have hid anything in. No one is looking at you, baby." I started on getting Leah's hospital gown off her It was trickier and I had to cut the cloth to remove the arm of the garment due to the IV machine. Sarah's hands shook as she pulled her shirt over her head, the fabric catching on her chin for one terrified moment before she wrenched it free. The van hit another bump and Jennifer reached out instinctively to steady her, her own bra straps slipping down pale shoulders. I worked quickly, slicing through Leah's hospital gown with my pocketknife where it tangled around the IV line. The fabric parted with a whisper, revealing the fresh surgical dressing taped to her abdomen, stark white against older scars. I quickly surveyed with my fingers to make sure they didn't try to hide any chips in the bandages, but they were clean. The hospital staff working on the kids were actually under Craigger's command, so they knew to hide the chips in the bandages of another patient. Sarah was crying silently as she pulled her underwear off, clutching a fresh pair in her other hand. Jennifer had already stripped down to nothing, her body rigid with humiliation as she grabbed for the clean sweatpants. Once Leah was naked, I pulled the blanket over her, and then I started to help Sarah again. "Come on, baby. Panties on," I whispered. "I know you're scared, baby." Sarah trembled as she stepped into the fresh underwear, her thighs still damp. Jennifer had already pulled on the clean sweatpants and was helping Leah into hers, careful of the IV line. The soldier glanced back, his expression softening briefly before snapping back to alertness. "One minute," he warned. "Gas station ahead." "Finish getting dressed," I told Sarah. "I still have to get my stuff off." I was quick, no modesty at all, as I just shoved everything off and into the pile, and then went back to Sarah helping her dress, though I was still naked. "You're safe, honey. We get into a different vehicle, and they will be looking around this area for a day or two before they realize we must have had another car already on standby." The van slowed abruptly, pulling into a deserted gas station lot. The soldier killed the engine and twisted in his seat, his gaze scanning the perimeter before landing on the pile of discarded clothes. "Burn barrel out back," he muttered, tossing me a lighter. "Sixty seconds." "If anyone wants to pee, you come out of the van and pee on the ground. We don't stop again until we get to the safehouse, people. If you can't wait or it starts leaking, you piss your pants. That goes for everyone." Jennifer's hands froze mid-motion, the hem of Sarah's new shirt clutched between her fingers. The girl's breath hitched, her gaze darting to Leah's unconscious form. The soldier exhaled sharply through his nose, already moving, snatching the discarded clothes into a bundled heap. "Leah won't be able to pee on her own right away," I told Jennifer. "She'll be fine. She's just going to be pissing her pants for a while anyway, even after all of this." The soldier was already out of the van, dumping our contaminated clothes into a rusted barrel behind the gas station. The flick of his lighter illuminated the sharp angles of his face for half a second before flames engulfed the fabric. The smell of burning polyester stung my nose as I hurried Sarah toward the bushes, her fingers clutching mine like a lifeline. We saw the new vehicle they were assigning us to get to the safe house in the bushes. It was a beat up old jeep, something the Military would definitely not think to stop since they'd think those running away would want a faster vehicle that could try to outrun them. I knew better though. MPs' cars were some of the fastest on the market, so better than quick, was camouflage, and apparently the people that set up our escape agreed with me. "I have to report to the hospital a few hours away," the soldier driving told us. "Part of your cover story. I tell them I didn't know it was you, and then I waste their time bringing them back here where there will be evidence of your burned clothes, but drive the jeep off road for a while before you catch the Interstate again on the map marked, and luck be with us, they'll assume you either had another car on this road, or you didn't have a car and waste time trying to find something that doesn't exist." Sarah was still shaking as I buckled her into the jeep's backseat beside Leah. Jennifer climbed in front, her fingers tapping nervously on the dash. The soldier hesitated before handing me a folded map. "Blue marks are safehouses. Red are compromised. Burn this once memorized." "Thank you. You are a credit to the uniform, soldier." And I drove us off into the desert. The jeep's headlights cut through the darkness as I navigated the rough terrain, following the soldier's hastily drawn map. Sarah's breathing had evened out beside me, her head resting against Leah's shoulder. Jennifer sat rigid in the passenger seat, her fingers tracing the dashboard like it might hold answers. The desert air smelled of dust and sagebrush, thick enough to coat my tongue. "The plan is we try to head directly for Vasquez's actual safe house, but if something goes wrong, then there are other stops along the way that are safe to hide out in until the heat is off." The jeep rattled over a dry creek bed, jostling Leah's IV line. Sarah jerked awake, her hand flying out to steady the bag before the needle could tug from Leah's arm. Jennifer twisted in her seat, her eyes scanning the empty horizon. "We're being tracked," she whispered. "Part of the plan," I nodded. "You don't think I told you that you'd piss your pants again because of a mere two hour plan, did you?" I asked Jennifer. We are going to ditch the Jeep in the desert. The other soldier didn't know this part of the plan so he couldn't tell anyone that figured out he was part of the plan." Sarah stiffened against Leah's side, her fingers tightening around the IV tubing. The dashboard lights cast shadows across Jennifer's face as she exhaled sharply through her nose. "So when do we, " she started, then cut herself off when I tapped the fuel gauge. Three-quarters full. Enough to get us deep enough into the desert that no patrol would follow on foot. "When you gotta go, just piss yourself. We will not be stopping until we get to the right place, then I check the jeep and the IV line for the tracker. Hopefully, it's on the jeep." Sarah let out a shaky breath against Leah's shoulder, her fingers tightening around the thin hospital blanket draped over both of them. The IV bag swayed with the Jeep's movement, casting eerie shadows across Leah's slack face. Jennifer's knuckles whitened on the dashboard as we hit another rut, the suspension groaning. "Almost there," I murmured, more for myself than them. The desert stretched endlessly in the headlights, scrub brush, the occasional silhouette of a Joshua tree. My military training recognized the terrain; knew how easily a person could disappear here if they knew where to step. The map rustled against my thigh, its creases marking more than coordinates. Safehouses weren't just locations, they were surrender points, places to stash evidence of survival when you had nothing left. The cave mouth yawned suddenly, a jagged black slash in the pale rock face. Sarah gasped. It looked like something had taken a bite out of the mountain. Jennifer's fingers dug into the dash, her breath audible. "That's not natural," she whispered. "Actually, it is natural," I chuckled. "That's why it's so clever." The Jeep's headlights barely penetrated the cave's throat as I steered toward the jagged opening. The map's annotation had been clear, *follow the water, erase your trail*. Beneath us, the creek's shallow flow gurgled over smoothed stones, its path cutting straight through the mountain's base. Perfect for masking tire tracks. Sarah whimpered as darkness swallowed us whole. The headlights flickered against wet limestone walls, revealing ancient watermarks high above our heads. "It's okay," I murmured, though my own pulse hammered against my ribs. The cave smelled of damp earth and something metallic, like rusted iron deposits leaching through the rock. "Just a little further in, and we'll see a helipad. We'll have to wait here for a bit though, so everyone will take off their pants and pee on the ground, or piss themselves if they are too embarrassed to pull their pants down." The Jeep's tires slipped on algae-slick stones as we inched deeper into the cavern's belly. Sarah's breath came in shallow bursts beside me, her fingers digging into Leah's hospital gown. The headlights barely illuminated the rushing creek ahead, its path twisting sharply to the left where the map indicated a secondary passage. Jennifer muttered something under her breath as the Jeep lurched over submerged debris, the suspension groaning. "We leave the jeep here. Sarah, Jennifer, follow the side passage. I'll take Leah out and check her IV bag before I put the jeep in reverse. It will look like the Jeep crashed from trying to back out, and another redherring, make them think we tried to reverse our way realizing this was the wrong cave, but it's right." The creek whispered around our ankles as we waded toward the side passage, Sarah clinging to Jennifer's arm. The cave walls pressed close, their damp surfaces slick under my palms as I carried Leah's limp form. Behind us, the Jeep sat half-submerged in the rushing water, its headlights still casting eerie reflections off the limestone. I'd rigged the IV bag to drip slowly into the creek, just enough saline to leave a trail they'd waste time analyzing. Jennifer hesitated at the passage mouth, her damp shirt clinging to her shoulders. "They'll follow the water," she murmured, staring at the dark current swirling around our legs. "That's the plan. The water goes back down to a small ghost town. Once they realize we didn't go that way, the helicopter will be here to pick us up." Sarah trembled against Jennifer's side, her hospital socks soaked through from the creek. The cave ceiling dripped somewhere in the darkness above us, each drop echoing like a ticking clock. Leah's breathing remained steady in my arms, though her skin felt clammy against my neck. The map's coordinates had been precise, three hundred yards upstream, then a sharp turn where the limestone formed a natural shelf. "This is where we stay. There's a bear den not far away. Hate to be the person that tried to follow us and runs into that guy." Sarah whimpered as I gestured toward the narrow ledge above the creek bed, barely visible in the dim glow of my emergency flashlight. The cave's damp chill seeped through my shirt as I adjusted Leah's weight against my chest, her IV line still dripping steadily into the rushing water below. Jennifer's breath fogged in the cold air as she scanned the limestone walls, her fingers brushing a series of faint scratches that might have been claw marks. Or tools. I fixed Leah's bag. We didn't want it leaking on the ground now, as we leave the water behind. "Those are animal marks," I told her. "Stay close, and the bear won't bother you." Sarah whimpered as Jennifer guided her onto the narrow shelf, their feet slipping on algae-coated limestone. The cave's silence pressed against my eardrums, broken only by the distant gurgle of the creek where we'd left the Jeep. My flashlight beam caught glinting mineral deposits in the rock, like frozen constellations. Leah stirred in my arms, her breath hitching as consciousness flickered back. "I'm only doing this this once because it's an emergency. Don't pee your pants yet, Leah. We need to get off the obvious trail before you do, so no one knows we were here. Just a few moments, if you can help it, okay?" Sarah whimpered against Jennifer's side as we crept along the ledge, our soaked shoes squeaking on the algae-slick rock. The cave ceiling loomed low enough that I had to duck while carrying Leah, my shoulders brushing damp limestone that smelled faintly of iron and rot. The creek below gurgled mockingly, its path clearly marked by smooth stones worn down over centuries, the perfect false trail. Any tracker would follow that waterway first, wasting precious hours before realizing it led only to abandoned mine shafts and dead ends. The ledge widened suddenly into a cavern just as the map promised, a yawning space barely large enough for a civilian chopper to hover, its uneven floor scattered with rusted fuel canisters from decades past. Jennifer's breath hitched as she took in the graffiti-scarred walls, faded military stencils warning *DANGER: UNSTABLE CEILING*. Sarah traced fingers over a crude bear claw etching near the entrance, her lips moving silently. "It's not as unstable as the military scouts thought. That's why we can use this place. On record, the military thinks anyone trying to land in here will cause a collapse, but in truth, only a little debris will be pushed from the sides of the cliff. Just stay in the middle until the copter is nearly down, and nothing will fall on you. It's safe to pee your pants now, kids, if you need to go." Sarah made a choked noise against Jennifer's shoulder, her fingers gripping the loose fabric of Leah's hospital gown. The cavern smelled of damp rock and old fuel, the remnants of abandoned military testing that had left its scars on the limestone walls. Jennifer exhaled sharply through her nose, her posture rigid as she scanned the graffiti-marked ceiling. "They wrote this off as unusable," she muttered, tracing a faded stencil with her fingertips. "Too tight for Black Hawks." The IV bag dripped steadily against Leah's collarbone as I shifted her weight in my arms. Her eyelids fluttered, pupils contracting in the dim glow of my flashlight. The map had been right, the cavern's ceiling arched just high enough for a civilian chopper to hover, its uneven floor littered with rusted canisters stamped with dates from thirty years ago. Someone had dragged an old ammo crate into the center, its splintered wood bleached pale by time. A perfect landmark for pilots who knew where to look. "Leah," I whispered to her. "It's time to try to pee. You've waited a bit long, baby. Try to wet your pants, okay?" Sarah gasped at my frankness, but Leah only blinked slowly, her fingers twitching against my arm. Jennifer knelt beside me, her hands shaking as she unclipped the hospital gown's back ties. "She's still soaked from earlier," she murmured. "Jim, she can't feel when she..." "No, she can't tell when she has to go, but she can push herself to go when she's reminded. The reason she couldn't pee at all earlier, had to do with her hernia. That's what they were supposed to have fixed. They wanted to wait, but it became an emergency when not peeing caused her get a fever." I felt Leah tense in my arms, her small frame shuddering as she processed my words. The IV line swayed slightly as I adjusted my grip, the saline drip glinting in the flashlight's beam. Jennifer exhaled sharply, her fingers hovering over Leah's abdomen where the surgical dressing peeked through the gown. Sarah edged closer, her own hands twisting nervously in the hem of her shirt. "Sarah, you can pull your pants down and just wet your panties. There's a reason I'm training Leah to just pee her pants right now." Sarah hesitated, then nodded, her fingers trembling as she undid the button of her jeans. The cavern's cold air made her shiver as she squatted awkwardly, the sound of her urine hitting the limestone floor echoing unnaturally loud in the enclosed space. Jennifer turned away, her jaw clenched, but I kept my eyes on Leah’s face, her pupils were dilated, her breathing shallow. She understood. She just couldn’t feel it. "It's okay, just take your time, honey. Rub your tummy if you want, that might help you realize how full you are." Sarah reached for Leah's hand, guiding it toward her own lower abdomen with surprising gentleness. The cave's damp chill made Leah's fingers stiff against the thin hospital gown, her nails digging slightly into the fabric. A faint tremor ran through her as Sarah pressed their joined hands against the swollen curve below Leah's ribs. Jennifer inhaled sharply, whether from the cold or the sight of Leah's surgical scar peeking through the gown, I couldn't tell. "Jennifer, you're not a child. I won't tell you what you know will need to be done, but if you are not wet when the helicopter picks us up, there is no guarantee you won't pee in front of strangers, in your pants." Jennifer's hands froze mid-motion, her fingers clutching Leah's gown ties like a lifeline. The IV bag swayed as Leah shifted, her breath hitching in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. Sarah's urine pooled around her sneakers, soaking into the porous limestone with a sound like distant rainfall. The cavern's acoustics made every droplet echo. "I'm going to dig mine out and pee on the wall over there. If you want, you can pee on the ground, but you are not to leave the clearing, Jenny. The bear has a territory, and without knowing what areas it avoids, you could run into it, so you girls pee in front me, sorry." Sarah's cheeks burned crimson as she shifted her weight, her wet panties clinging to her butt. Jennifer's fingers tightened around Leah's wrist, her knuckles whitening. The IV line trembled as Leah finally let go, a warm trickle darkening the pale fabric between her legs. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her eyes fixed on some invisible point beyond my shoulder. The smell of urine mingled with the cave's mineral dampness, an oddly comforting reminder of life in this stale underground air. Jennifer stood abruptly, her boots scraping against loose gravel. She hesitated for three seconds, I counted, before undoing her belt with jerky motions. The zipper's rasp echoed off the limestone as she turned her back to us, shoulders rigid. A steady stream pattered against the cavern wall, her posture betraying military training even in this humiliating moment. Sarah stared at her mother's shadow stretching across the bear claw etchings, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Sarah," I called her attention. "Help Leah. She needs to be positioned right to encourage herself to pee since her brain can't process her doing it, yet." Sarah nodded, her fingers still trembling, but she moved with purpose. She guided Leah's free hand to the small of her own back, pressing gently against the pressure points Dr. Rosario had shown her earlier. Leah's breath hitched again, but this time, a slow trickle darkened the gown further, pooling around her bare thighs where the fabric had ridden up. Jennifer finished with a sharp exhale, refastening her belt with practiced efficiency, though her fingers lingered on the buckle longer than necessary. "Everyone comfortable?" I asked. "Good, copter will be in about two or three hours, so everyone rest. I'll take watch. Sarah, go ahead and wet the bed tonight, understand?" Sarah made a small noise, pressing her face into Jennifer's shoulder as her fingers twisted in Leah's gown. The IV line swayed slightly when Leah shifted, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion. Jennifer exhaled sharply through her nose but didn't argue, she knew as well as I did that Sarah's intermittent accidents weren't truly accidents anymore, just conditioned responses to stress, like Leah's deliberate withholding. The cavern's damp air clung to our skin, making the girls shiver in their damp clothes. "Baby?" I whispered to Sarah. "This isn't to embarrass you or hurt you. It's to give you permission so you don't hurt yourself. There's no point in waking up in less than three hours when there is no natural toilet for you anyway. Is that okay? And if you don't pee before the copter lands, you will pee your pants in it, because once it's up, we don't land until we get where we are going. We don't want to be tracked by the Military." Sarah nodded jerkily, her fingers worrying at the hem of her shirt. Jennifer reached over, brushing Sarah's damp bangs from her forehead with uncharacteristic gentleness. Leah's head lolled against my shoulder, her breathing shallow but steady now that her bladder had emptied. The IV bag was nearly half gone, the steady drip echoing faintly in the stillness. The helicopter arrived not with a roar but with a staggered series of mechanical coughs, its civilian registration numbers barely visible under layers of grime. The pilot didn't cut the engines as two figures in paramedic vests jumped out, their faces obscured by surgical masks. One grabbed Leah from my arms with practiced efficiency while the other motioned urgently for us to board. Jennifer hesitated just long enough to see Sarah's wide-eyed terror before pushing her forward. Water dripped from the rotor wash onto my neck as I climbed in, the metallic taste of adrenaline sharp on my tongue. Someone shoved headphones over my ears, the sudden burst of static drowning out Jennifer's muffled question about our destination. Through the headset's crackle, the pilot's voice was clipped: "Coast Guard got a distress call, injured hikers near Devil's Gulch. That's your cover." His gloved hand pointed at the blood pressure cuff hastily wrapped around Leah's thin arm, the medical theater almost convincing if not for the way her hospital gown flapped open to reveal fresh surgical dressings. "If we take off her medical gown, do you have a blanket? We could say a bear ripped up her clothes? Sarah, you take off your shirt, too. With two injured teenagers, it seems more convincing." The medic nodded sharply, already pulling a thermal blanket from his kit. The copter lurched as he tossed it toward Sarah, who flinched when the metallic fabric brushed her bare arms. Jennifer moved before I could, stripping Leah's soiled gown with quick, clinical motions that left her shivering in just the surgical dressing and adult diaper. The medic didn't blink at the purple trim peeking from the waistband, he'd seen worse, but Sarah's breath hitched when she noticed Leah's fresh stitches gleaming under the cabin lights. Wind howled through the open door as we descended toward the hospital's rooftop. The building loomed like a forgotten relic, its cracked helipad streaked with decades-old paint markings. Two figures waited under flickering floodlights, one in scrubs gripping a wheelchair, the other in a tailored suit holding a briefcase. Even from this distance, I recognized Elena Vasquez's rigid posture, how she checked her watch like we were late for a deposition instead of fleeing for our lives. Her sister Linda stood half a step behind, gloved hands tight on the wheelchair handles. The helicopter touched down with a shudder that rattled Leah's IV line. Sarah whimpered when the medics pulled her upright, her bare arms prickling with goosebumps under the thermal blanket. Jennifer moved first, shouldering past the masked attendants to scoop Leah into her arms, surgical dressing be damned. Elena barely flinched at the sight of Leah's exposed stitches, just jerked her chin toward a rusted service door where two men in janitor uniforms waited with stacked file boxes. "How long do we have here?" I asked the Vasquez sisters. Elena didn't look up from the file she was scanning. "Hospital wasn't on military radar at the moment. Believe we've got a week at least, possibly three if needed." She snapped the folder shut and finally met my eyes. "Depends how fast Craigger's team scrubs the cave." "There are at least three bears in that mountain that will chase anyone away that doesn't know what they are doing. One of the reasons a story of a bear attack worked for the helicopter not being questioned. The only safe passage is well hidden and blocked by a crashed Jeep, and even if they get past that, the cave goes deeper into mines that are old and abandoned, and the side passage, they would have to not believe the military report that that area is unsafe." The janitors wheeled the stacked file boxes toward us, their uniforms hanging loose enough to conceal sidearms. One lifted the lid just enough to reveal fresh clothes folded atop what looked like military issue body armor. Sarah reached for a sweatshirt with shaking hands, her fingers catching on the fabric as she pulled it over her head. Jennifer didn't bother dressing Leah, just wrapped the thermal blanket tighter around her before settling her into the waiting wheelchair. "Sarah, body armor, too," I told her. "We don't know what to expect even if we think we have a week. Better safe than sorry, okay?" She hesitated before reaching into the box, fingers brushing the Kevlar lining with visible discomfort. Jennifer helped Leah into hers with practiced efficiency, adjusting the straps around her slight frame without jarring the IV. The armor smelled faintly of gunpowder and sweat, an unsettling reminder of whose hands it had passed through before ours. Elena watched us dress with the detached focus of a prosecutor reviewing evidence, her pen tapping against the briefcase in a rhythm that matched the distant hum of hospital machinery. The janitors led us through a maze of service corridors, their boots squeaking on freshly mopped floors that did little to mask the underlying scent of antiseptic and stale urine. Sarah kept one hand on Leah's wheelchair, her other clutching the sweatshirt hem like a lifeline. I counted the exits, three before the stairwell, each marked with outdated evacuation route signs curling at the edges. The flickering fluorescents cast long shadows that made Jennifer flinch at every movement, her shoulders tense beneath the borrowed scrubs. Elena pushed open an unmarked door to reveal a makeshift exam room stocked with military-grade monitors and civilian hospital supplies. A woman in a white coat, Dr. Rosario’s replacement, I assumed, barely glanced up from Leah’s chart before motioning us forward. "Surgery site looks clean," she murmured, peeling back the thermal blanket with gloved hands. Her fingers hovered over Leah’s stitches, not touching, just assessing. "No signs of infection, but her bladder tone is still compromised. She’ll need catheterization until sensation returns." Across the room, another doctor guided Sarah onto a paper-lined table with surprising gentleness. Sarah flinched when he lifted her sweatshirt to examine the chafed skin beneath her borrowed body armor, her breath hitching at the clinical scrutiny. "Stress-induced encopresis," he muttered to Elena, jotting notes on a tablet. "Existing diaper rash suggests prolonged incidents. Any history of forced retention?" "She wets at school, sometimes," I offered to help Sarah get started. "Tell them, honey. They need to know everything you know, and then your mom can tell them about what daddy did to you, okay?" Sarah nodded jerkily, her fingers twisting in the paper gown as she perched on the exam table. The pediatrician, Dr. Rosario’s replacement, Dr. Whittaker, glanced up from her notes with a neutral expression, waiting. Sarah swallowed hard before speaking, her voice barely audible over the hum of the overhead lights. "At Daddy’s house... he’d lock the bathroom doors. Said I had to learn control." Her gaze flicked to Jennifer, who stood rigid by the door, jaw clenched. "Mom didn’t know until the custody hearing." Dr. Whittaker’s pen paused mid-sentence. "Forced retention," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. His fingers traced the faint bruising along Sarah’s hipbones, old marks, faded but unmistakable. "These pressure points suggest manual compression. Was there a specific... technique he used?" Sarah’s throat worked silently before she managed, "Hands. Knees. Once a, a belt." Jennifer’s breath hitched audibly from the corner, her knuckles white around the doorframe. Across the room, the other pediatrician finished adjusting Leah’s IV drip, her surgical dressing pristine under the harsh exam lights. I broke in. "There's a chance the two girls' condition are related to military research. Maybe ask some questions related to that because even I'm not sure of what kinds of things they might do if that's their aim?" Elena's pen stopped scratching against her legal pad. She exchanged a glance with Dr. Whittaker that lasted just a second too long. The doctor cleared his throat and turned back to Sarah, his tone deliberately lighter now. "Let's focus on current symptoms, Sarah. Any abdominal pain when you void?" Sarah shook her head, fingers still gripping the paper gown. Behind her, Jennifer exhaled through her nose, her posture softening slightly as the questioning shifted. Across the room, Leah stirred in her wheelchair, her eyelids fluttering open for the first time since the cave. The second doctor, Dr. Vance, according to his nametag, knelt beside her, blocking my view as he checked her pupils with a penlight. "Pupillary response normal," Vance murmured. He peeled back the surgical dressing with meticulous care, revealing the fresh, puckered stitches beneath. "No signs of infection or dehiscence. Her vitals are stable, but she's severely dehydrated." He glanced at the IV bag hanging from the wheelchair's makeshift pole. "She'll need fluids for another twelve hours at least. After that, " he hesitated, his eyes flicking toward Elena, "rest is the best medicine, as long as we can give it." "Oh, I had to empty about a tenth or so of her waters bag to throw the military off when we entered the cave. That might have a little to do with her dehydration. The hospital we were at took good care of her. I just... had to throw the military off our trail. They were tracking the jeep, but I knew they would be." Elena's pen froze mid-sentence. She stared at me, her dark eyes narrowing behind her glasses. "You diluted her IV fluids?" Her voice was dangerously calm. "Not by choice. It was either we did nothing and they found us before the helicopter did, or I led them to believe we went to the ghost town a few miles down the road from the cave. Her chemicals were the only thing that would have stayed traceable that far to lead them away." Elena exhaled sharply through her nose, the way she did in court when a witness contradicted their own testimony. Dr. Whittaker was already palpating Leah's abdomen with careful fingers, checking for rebound tenderness. Sarah watched from her exam table, her legs swinging nervously above the floor. The pediatrician's hands stilled over Leah's bladder region. "Distended, but not dangerously so," he murmured. "We'll run another electrolyte panel and adjust her fluids accordingly." "I'm doing everything I know to keep her out of bad hands. I'm not perfect, but I know how tracking works. I was a scout for the Marines. You track what will give you the best trail." Elena exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around the clipboard. The Vasquez sisters had always moved in sync, Linda adjusting Leah’s IV drip while Elena marked something on the chart. Dr. Whittaker stepped back from Leah’s wheelchair, nodding to Linda. "Surgery was successful," he confirmed, his voice low. "But her body’s been through hell. She needs rest, real rest, for as long as we can give it." Sarah swung her legs nervously on the exam table, her fingers twisting in the paper gown. The pediatrician, Dr. Vance, had moved to her side, palpating her abdomen with clinical precision. "No rebound tenderness," he murmured, his voice softer now, almost gentle. "But these old bruises... they line up with pressure points. Whoever did this knew exactly where to press." Jennifer's breath hitched from the doorway, her fingers flexing against the frame like she wanted to hit something. Or someone. Sarah glanced at her mother, then back to Dr. Vance. "Daddy used to pin me down," she whispered. "Said I had to learn to hold it like a soldier." Her fingers traced the faint bruises along her ribs, old marks, but not old enough. "When was the last time he held you down and made you wet your pants, baby?" I asked her. Sarah froze, her fingers stilling against her ribs. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, casting long shadows across her face. Her lips parted, then pressed tight again. Jennifer stepped forward, her hand outstretched, but Sarah shook her head once, sharp. "Two nights before... before we left." Sarah's voice cracked like thin ice. She stared at the floor, at the scuff marks near the baseboard. "He made me drink three glasses of water first. Said, " Her breath hitched. "Said he'd teach me control if it took all night." Jennifer's face went white. Her hands trembled, not with fear, but with the kind of rage that turns bones to powder. Elena's pen hovered over her legal pad, ink pooling where she'd stopped writing mid-sentence. "That was important information, right?" I asked the lawyer and the doctor. Sarah’s breathing had gone shallow, her fingers clutching the paper gown so tightly it tore at the edges. The pediatrician, Vance, exchanged a glance with Elena before nodding once. "Critical," he confirmed. His hands moved to Sarah’s shoulders, not restraining, just grounding. "We needed to know the timeline. To build the case." "Remember, she's a child," I told Dr. Vance. "I know it's important to get the details, but treat her like a little kid right now. Praise, be slow, and let her relax between questions. Please." Vance blinked at me, then nodded, adjusting his tone to something softer, warmer. "You're doing great, Sarah," he murmured, pressing a warm blanket around her shoulders. "Just breathe for a minute, okay? We can pause whenever you need." "Call her baby," I suggested. "Not A BABY, but just baby, like you're calming a little kid that's scared. It's not that hard, it helps a lot when talking to traumatized kids." Dr. Vance hesitated, then nodded again, his fingers loosening their clinical grip on Sarah's chart. He crouched slightly to meet her eye level, his voice dropping into something warmer, slower. "Okay, baby, let's take a little break," he murmured. "Want some juice? Apple or grape?" "Um... I think... let her tell you when she's thirsty. She associates drinks with punishment. I realized that earlier when I offered my cocoa to her. Maybe a snack is better. If she gets dry, she'll want a drink." Dr. Vance's eyes flicked to mine, sharp with understanding. He straightened slowly, setting the juice box aside without comment. "Got it," he murmured. From the supply cart, he pulled a small packet of animal crackers, the kind with the dull, waxy frosting kids pretend is edible. He held them out to Sarah like an offering. "Hungry, sweetheart?" Sarah stared at the packet, her fingers twitching against her torn gown. A muscle in Jennifer's jaw pulsed as she watched her daughter hesitate over something as simple as a snack. The silence stretched long enough that Vance started to lower his hand, but then Sarah's fingers darted out, snatching the crackers with jerky urgency. She clutched them to her chest like contraband, her breath coming too fast. I mentally took note. "Sarah? You're safe," I told her. "Everyone in this room, is on your side, baby." The doctor nodded, his hands resting loosely at his sides, no sudden movements. Jennifer shifted from her rigid stance near the door, her fingers flexing once before she stepped forward and sank onto the edge of the exam table beside her daughter. Sarah flinched at the movement, but didn't pull away when Jennifer's hand settled lightly on her knee. "Leah?" I whispered. "Did anyone ever make you drink too much drink and then not use the toilet, not at school, but in a scary place, like a prison or a Military place?" Leah's fingers curled around the arms of her wheelchair, her knuckles whitening against the padded rests. Her lips moved soundlessly for a moment before she managed a hoarse whisper: "The cold room." "Describe the cold room, but take your time. Don't remember the scary all at once, okay, baby?" Leah's breathing hitched, her fingers twitching against the wheelchair grips. The IV line trembled where it connected to her arm. Dr. Vance moved subtly closer, his stethoscope dangling unused from his neck. Elena's pen hovered over her legal pad, but she didn't write. The room smelled like antiseptic and animal crackers gone stale in Sarah's clenched hands. I went over and picked her out of the chair and sat in it so I could hold her. "Remember, Grandpa's right here, if you get scared, baby." Leah’s body went rigid at first, her breath catching in that panicked way that meant her mind was still trapped somewhere else, somewhere with cold walls and voices that didn’t care if she screamed. But then, slowly, her fingers unclenched from the wheelchair arms and twisted into my shirt instead. Her forehead pressed against my collarbone, damp with sweat. Sarah leaned forward from the exam table, her animal crackers forgotten in her lap, watching Leah like she was memorizing how to do this, how to let someone hold you when your whole body still expected pain. "One thing at a time, honey. Not all at once. Just maybe what you saw, first, the things that were least scary first?" I encouraged as I rubbed her back. The vinyl of the wheelchair creaked beneath us as Leah's breathing steadied. "White tiles," she whispered finally. Her fingers tapped my forearm in uneven patterns, like counting. "Up high, little windows with wire." Her voice fractured on the last word, but she kept going, her face still pressed against my shoulder. "They'd...make us drink first. So it'd hurt more when, " Her fingers spasmed against my sleeve. "They purposely made you drink knowing it cause more pain when they did something else to you?" I encouraged her to continue. "What did they make you drink, baby?" Leah's breath hitched again, her fingers tightening in my shirt. "Clear," she whispered. "Cold. Tasted like... like metal." Her shoulders hunched inward, her body curling tighter against mine. Sarah, still perched on the exam table, had gone very still, the unopened animal crackers forgotten in her lap. Dr. Vance exchanged a glance with Elena, his expression unreadable. "Not water?" I asked. "Nothing you understood?" Leah shook her head against my chest. Her fingers had gone still now, curled loosely in the fabric of my shirt. Across the room, Sarah let out a shaky breath and tore open the cracker packet with her teeth. The sound made Leah flinch, but she didn't pull away. "What did they do when your body rejected it maybe you peed or you threw up, what happened, baby?" I rubbed her back. "Only tell us as long as you can. Don't relive the whole nightmare, baby." Leah's breath hitched again, her fingers twisting into my shirt. Sarah had stopped chewing, her hands frozen midair holding the cracker. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting harsh shadows across Leah's face where she hid against my shoulder. "Okay, Leah. Breaktime. You tell us more in a bit. For now, you close your eyes and rest. If you are hungry, ask, and if you are thirsty, ask for exactly what you want. No one brings you anything you didn't ask for. If we don't have it, we tell you up front, okay?" Leah nodded against my shoulder, her fingers slowly loosening their grip. Sarah, still clutching her crackers, scooted closer on the exam table until her knee brushed against the wheelchair armrest. "Both of you sleep for a bit," I whispered to them. "We will continue the questions after you are rested, babies. Jennifer, hold your baby until she falls asleep. She needs you, and Jenny? Give her permission to piss the bed. Let her know there is no punishment." Jennifer hesitated, her hands hovering over Sarah's shoulders before settling in with the quiet determination of a mother who'd finally found her footing. She pressed her lips to Sarah's temple, murmuring something too low for the rest of us to catch. Sarah stiffened at first, then sagged against her mother, her fingers clutching Jennifer's sleeve like a lifeline. Across the room, Elena set her legal pad aside with deliberate care, the pen rolling across the polished surface. I picked Leah up and carried her to the bedding they had for her, and put her down and crawled near, but not so close as to disturb her comfort. She had stitches that still hurt. "Baby, Grandpa loves you. You realize I love you by now, don't you?" Leah's fingers curled into the hospital-grade sheets, her breath hitching. But then, slowly, she nodded, just once, before pressing her face into the pillow. Sarah, still wrapped in Jennifer's arms on the exam table, watched with red-rimmed eyes. "If you wake up leaking, try to force the rest out, baby. Try to pee when you feel it. We'll get you cleaned up as soon as we notice you're wet, so you don't have to say anything until you are ready." Leah blinked up at me, her green eyes glassy under the fluorescent lights. Her fingers twitched toward the catheter line taped to her thigh before dropping back to the sheets. I smoothed her hair back from her forehead, careful not to touch the still-angry scars along her scalp. "That's right, you have a bag right now, so you won't even pee in the bed. Still try to pee though, when you feel it leaking, okay?" Leah nodded, her eyelids already growing heavy with exhaustion. The morphine drip clicked softly beside her, its rhythmic sound almost soothing in the otherwise sterile room. Sarah had curled into Jennifer's side on the exam table, her legs tucked beneath her, the animal crackers abandoned in a crinkling heap. The scent of antiseptic and stale crackers mixed with the underlying hospital smell, bleach and something faintly metallic. "I know you hoped to get further, but remember, these are children... traumatized children. Sarah had been put through this since she was six, I think her mom said, and I have no idea how long Leah has been suffering." I turned to Elena, who had remained silent throughout Leah's fragmented confession. Her pen lay abandoned on the legal pad, the ink bleeding into the paper where she'd pressed too hard. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows under her eyes. She looked older suddenly, the weight of what we were uncovering pressing down on her shoulders. "They're not just disciplinary techniques," I murmured, keeping my voice low so the girls wouldn't hear. "This is systematic conditioning. Sarah's father was priming her for something, or someone." Elena's fingers twitched toward her pen, but didn't lift it. Across the room, Jennifer rocked Sarah gently, humming under her breath in a rhythm that matched Leah's slowing morphine drip. "You don't do this to your own kid unless you're a monster and you have been promised something that, at the moment, seems more important than a child's trust." Elena exhaled sharply through her nose, her fingers finally closing around the pen. The click of her ballpoint against paper was too loud in the quiet room. Jennifer's humming faltered for a second before resuming, steadier now, her arms tightening around Sarah's sleeping form. "I don't know what happened, to be honest, but it feels like secret stuff, a research for some kind of weapon or advantage in a war." Leah's whisper startled me. Her eyes were still closed, her face half-buried in the pillow, but her fingers had crept back to clutching the sheets. Sarah shifted on the exam table, her breathing uneven like she was pretending to sleep but listening hard. "Damn. I thought the kids were asleep. They are listening. Look. Watch. They were trained to be that way, probably the only way to stop something worse happening to them. They learned to pretend, but as a soldier, we sometimes get trained the same way. I wonder if the military were trying to make super kid soldiers or something... you know, like terror groups do." Leah's fingers tightened on the sheets, but she kept her eyes closed. Sarah, still curled against Jennifer, let out the tiniest whimper, the sound of a child who'd been caught eavesdropping but couldn't help it. Elena's pen scratched across the paper, slower now, as if she was weighing each word before committing it to ink. "Leah, open your eyes, baby. You're not in trouble. You too, Sarah. If I don't want you to hear something, I should have said it out of the room. I knew something wasn't right. Leah hinted at having heard us before when it didn't seem possible." Leah's eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes that were too bright, too alert for someone supposedly half-asleep. Sarah unfurled from Jennifer's arms with the slow hesitation of a creature expecting punishment. The crinkling of cracker wrappers filled the silence as she picked at the remaining crumbs. "You babies are not in trouble," I whispered to them. "You can't help your instincts. Once someone trains you to pay attention to your environment before you sleep, you can't really unlearn that." Sarah's fingers trembled against the cracker wrapper. Jennifer smoothed her hair, murmuring reassurances, but Sarah's gaze stayed locked on my face. Behind her, Dr. Vance shifted uncomfortably near the door, his stethoscope catching the light as he turned his head. "Dr. Vance? Don't sneak out of the room. You know something. Give." Dr. Vance froze mid-step, his sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. The stethoscope around his neck swung slightly, catching the overhead light. Sarah shrank back against Jennifer, her fingers digging into her mother's sleeve. Leah's breathing had gone shallow and quick, her fingers twisting the hospital gown fabric at her chest. "The kids noticed, too, doctor. You have two minutes to tell us what you know before I treat you as a hostile spy." Dr. Vance's throat worked as he swallowed. His grip on the doorframe tightened, then loosened. Sarah had stopped breathing entirely, her small frame rigid against Jennifer. Leah's fingers had gone white-knuckled around her IV line, her gaze flicking between Dr. Vance and me with something too sharp for a thirteen-year-old. "Do you know this man?" I asked Leah. Her pupils dilated slightly, not fear, but recognition. A muscle twitched near her temple where the worst scars branched outward like shattered glass. Dr. Vance exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers tapping an irregular rhythm against the doorframe before stilling. "Was he the scariest man in the room, a scary man, a scared man, or someone at the wrong place at the wrong time, baby? That's all you have to say. If he knows what's good for him, he'll explain what you feel." Leah's lips parted slightly, her tongue darting out to wet them before she answered in a voice so quiet I had to lean closer. "Scared man." "At least she thinks you were controlled by the ones in charge of this stuff. Now, you have two minutes to decide if you are their spy, or you are helping us before I choose what I decide you are." Dr. Vance's hand twitched toward his stethoscope before dropping to his side. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting uneven shadows across his face as he swallowed again. Leah's fingers had migrated to the thin plastic tubing of her IV line, twisting it methodically. Sarah exhaled sharply through her nose, her breath fogging the cracker wrapper clenched in her fist. "Ninety seconds, doctor. If you think I don't know anything at all about torture, you have another thing coming. I just normally choose to not turn it on children or civilians, however, I can easily forget you are a casualty of this, if you don't open up." Dr. Vance's fingers flexed at his sides, the sterile gloves creaking. Sarah flinched at the sound, her fingers tightening around Jennifer's sleeve. Leah's breathing hitched, too fast, too shallow, her fingers now tangled in the IV line threatening to pull it loose. The heart monitor beeped erratically, protesting the strain. "Need help, Dr. Vance? Sarah, honey? Do you remember him as most scary, scary, scared, or by stander when you saw him last?" Sarah's lips parted slightly, her breath uneven against the cracker wrapper still pressed to her chest. Her fingers twitched against Jennifer's sleeve before she managed a single jerky nod. "Scared," she whispered, her voice cracking. "But he... held the cup." "You gave them the drink in the cup, and you knew it wasn't water, didn't you?" The words left my mouth before I could soften them. Dr. Vance's shoulders hunched slightly, his stethoscope swinging as he shook his head. Not denial, shame. Sarah let out a tiny sound, pressing her face into Jennifer's shoulder. Leah's fingers jerked on the IV line, sending saline dripping onto the sheets. "Dr. Vasquez? Who did Leah's IV this time? If Vance did, I want it changed immediately." Leah's IV bag shivered as Elena moved, her polished boots clicking against tile. Dr. Vance didn't lift his head, his shoulders curling inward like he wanted to disappear into his lab coat. Sarah made a sound into Jennifer's shoulder, half sob, half gasp, her fingers clawing at her own sleeves. "I actually want both of the girls' clothes, food, and anything else given recently changed as fast as possible. No chances here. Right now, I only trust the Vasquez sisters because Mrs. Jenny trusts the lawyer." Leah whimpered, her fingers tightening on the IV line until her knuckles whitened. Sarah finally lifted her head from Jennifer's shoulder, her eyes red-rimmed but alert. Jennifer's arms tightened around her daughter, her nostrils flaring as she inhaled sharply. Dr. Vance took half a step back, his stethoscope swinging limply against his chest. Elena's pen paused mid-word on her legal pad. "Once more step towards escape, and I will tackle you, sir. Don't think I can't! They don't build men the way they used to. I'm old school Marine!" Dr. Vance froze mid-step, his shoe squeaking against the linoleum. Sarah flinched at the sound, her fingers digging into Jennifer's arms. Leah's breath hitched in her chest, her IV line twisting dangerously between her fingers. The heart monitor's steady beeping accelerated, the rhythm jagged and uneven. "Leah, let the nurse, Vasquez, take the line out of your arm, baby. She can do it safely. I want that bag changed, too." I decided. "Nothing that holds or gives liquid is going to trusted that has been done. Get rid of it. Nurse, Vasquez, you do it. I don't trust anyone else unless they earn that trust." Leah's fingers unclenched slowly, her knuckles pale from the strain. Linda moved with practiced efficiency, her hands steady as she disconnected the IV line while Dr. Vance stood frozen against the wall. Sarah watched, her breath shallow, as Jennifer's grip tightened around her shoulders protectively. "Vance, you are under watch. That means unless you give me reason, you won't be restrained, but you ask permission to do anything, even pissing your pants. No movement anyway that suspiciously looks like you are going to test the kids or your going to call your other people." Dr. Vance's throat bobbed as he swallowed, the tendons in his neck standing out sharply. His fingers flexed once at his sides before curling inward, the sterile gloves wrinkling like dead skin. Linda worked swiftly beside Leah's bed, her movements precise as she discarded the IV bag with exaggerated care. The plastic made a wet sound hitting the biohazard bin, louder than it should have been in the quiet room. "Lawyer Vasquez, you have one of your moles that helped the military and CPS find kids for this stuff. I hope that helps your case whatever you are trying to prove." Elena's pen hovered over her legal pad, the ink bleeding into a tiny black star where she'd paused too long. Leah had gone very still, her fingers now limp on the mattress where Linda had secured the new IV line. Sarah made a small sound against Jennifer's shoulder, something between a cough and a whimper. Dr. Vance cleared his throat. "Protocol Alpha-9," he said hoarsely. "They called it hydration conditioning. The... the cup was part of the baseline testing." His hands shook as he pulled off his gloves, revealing raw, nail-bitten fingertips. "I didn't know, not at first, what they were really measuring." "But now?" I asked. "Why did you stay in the illegal activity after you found out?" Sarah jerked in Jennifer's arms at the word "illegal." Leah's fingers curled inward, pressing against her stomach where the surgical dressing peeked through her gown. Dr. Vance's breathing hitched, his gaze flicking toward the door before returning to mine. His fingers twitched toward his stethoscope again, then stilled. "They are here, aren't they? You keep looking at the door. The people are in this very hospital?" Sarah made a small choked sound, pressing her face deeper into Jennifer's shoulder. Leah's fingers dug into her own gown, the fabric tearing slightly at the neckline. Dr. Vance's lips moved silently before words finally came out. "Neurology ward. Third floor. They, " His voice cracked. "They have my daughter." "Doing the same things to her, or threatening that they will?" I asked. "How old is she?" I was testing not only for a lie about the daughter, but how much duress he was actually under. Dr. Vance's fingers twitched toward his stethoscope again, stopping halfway as if remembering himself. "Sixteen," he whispered. "They... they haven't started the protocols yet. They're holding her as insurance." His eyes flicked to Leah's thin frame, her ribs visible beneath the hospital gown. "They told me if I didn't cooperate, they'd use her for phase two testing." "What phase is Leah and Sarah been exposed to?" Dr. Vance's jaw worked silently before he answered. "Phase one, forced hydration protocols. Phase two involves dehydration stress testing." His fingers twitched toward his stethoscope again, the movement aborted halfway. Sarah whimpered against Jennifer's shoulder, her small frame trembling violently. Leah's breathing had gone shallow and uneven, her fingers clawing at the surgical dressing on her abdomen. "Draw me a map of the facility, the entrances and exits where your daughter is, and possible guards," I told him. "You tell the doctor everything you know, and I'll get your daughter out of there." I looked to Nurse Vasquez. "Do you have any direct line to someone legal on base that wouldn't be involved with any of this? I have my one buddy, but if he had to take precautions such as fake tracking traps, then he's not as clear to help without the head of the program knowing." Nurse Vasquez hesitated, her fingers pausing over Leah's IV line. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting sharp shadows across her face. "My cousin," she said finally. "Military police. She's clean, hates the research division." Her voice dropped lower. "She's been trying to get evidence on them for years." "You tell her to contact company C Foxtrot 19. They are run by my old Iraq team. You tell her where we are and get that information to my boys. If she wants to come along for the bust, tell her to bring back up. My team is only here to rescue this swine's kid so he has no reason to help them anymore. But to shut them down, we'll need MP authority to do any arrests or investigations on the people and things we find here." Leah's fingers twitched against my sleeve, her nails digging into my wrist. Her breathing hitched, her lips forming silent words. I leaned closer. "Say again, baby?" "Third floor," she rasped, her voice raw. "West wing. The... the cold room." Her pupils dilated at the words, her fingers spasming against my skin. Sarah made a small noise against Jennifer's shoulder, her own hands clutching at her stomach. "You've seen the other girl, then?" I asked. Leah's nails dug deeper into my wrist, her eyes flicking to Dr. Vance before she gave a jerky nod. A bead of sweat slid down her temple despite the chill in the room. Linda's fingers tightened around the new IV bag, her knuckles whitening as she glanced toward the doorway. "Vance? You want your daughter to see you as a hero?" I asked. "We have backup, but if they get wind, they could try to run taking her to shield their escape. We have to move now if we are going to take your daughter back before the shit hits the ceiling." Dr. Vance's hands trembled visibly now, his fingers clutching at his stethoscope like a lifeline. His breathing came fast and shallow, matching Leah's panicked rhythm. Sarah lifted her head from Jennifer's shoulder, her face blotchy and damp, but her eyes sharpened with something like determination. Jennifer's grip loosened slightly, her own breathing steadying as she met my gaze over Sarah's head. "Jenny? You keep the babies safe and the Vasquez sisters focus on their jobs, to contact help, help our kids, and put together this case." Vance, where are your weapons. I know you are a doctor, but that's your child. You going to stand by and let them inject your child with this stuff?" Dr. Vance's hands twitched toward his lab coat pockets before stilling. His throat worked silently as his gaze darted to the crash cart in the corner, the locked drawer where emergency medications were kept. Sarah shifted in Jennifer's arms, her small fingers twisting in the sheets. Leah's breathing had gone shallow and rapid, her pupils dilated wide enough to swallow the green of her irises. "My scalpel," Vance whispered hoarsely. "Left pocket. They... they took my access card when they brought me here." His fingers flexed as if remembering the weight of the instrument. Leah made a thin sound, her fingers spasming against my wrist. The monitors beeped faster, erratic. "Okay, first objective, use the scapel to surprise a guard and get his weapon so we have something that will actually force surrender. Remember, they get one chance to surrender, and only one. You give them two, and your daughter is as good as dead. They don't make mistakes twice." Sarah whimpered, pressing her face into Jennifer's shoulder again, but Leah's grip on my wrist tightened, not in fear, but agreement. Her nails left crescent marks in my skin, the pain sharp and grounding. Across the room, Linda Vasquez moved silently to the supply cabinet, retrieving a pair of trauma shears and sliding them into her scrub pocket with practiced nonchalance. Her cousin Elena hadn't stopped writing, her pen scratching methodically across the legal pad despite the tension in her shoulders. "No, Linda. I need you here to monitor the kids. I only trust you as the doctor for now. No one here has proven they can be trusted. Vance got into your sister's safehouse, and it turns out the whole lab is in your sister's safehouse, so you've been compromised. Your sister is the only one that can be trusted because she's been helping Jenny since the start, and you, because you helped us get our babies out of danger earlier today." Linda's fingers froze on the IV tubing, her dark eyes flicking to Elena's tense form by the door. Elena's pen had stopped moving, the legal pad balanced precariously on her knee. Across the room, Jennifer exhaled sharply through her nose, her arms tightening around Sarah's trembling shoulders. Leah's breathing hitched, that wet, uneven sound she made when panic clawed up her throat. "Leah, what else do I need to know, baby. You're not panicking for no reason. What is it, baby?" Her breath hitched, the monitors screaming protest. The words came out in fractured gasps. "Two guards... outside... now." Her fingers spasmed against my wrist, slick with sweat. I nodded. "Keep panicking," I mouthed hoping she understood it was supposed to be fake now. If I were to surprise them, they can't know we are paying attention to them. Leah's ragged breathing turned theatrical, her fingers clawing at the sheets with exaggerated distress. Sarah picked up the cue instantly, letting out a high-pitched whimper that sounded genuine enough to make Jennifer flinch. The heart monitor's erratic beeping filled the room, either Leah had terrifying control over her own vitals, or fear was doing half the acting for her. I pointed Vance to one side of the door while I took the other, waiting for the guards to come in to arrest us. I pointed behind the knee to Vance as a single where to stab the man that came in on his side. The door creaked open, and two uniformed men stepped inside, their hands already resting on their sidearms. The first guard's eyes darted to Leah's thrashing form, his lips curling in disgust. "Jesus, can't you shut that thing up?" I sprung out landing the scissors in the knee crevice behind the kneecap of that guard, and swept kick him to the ground, already assessing if Vance needed help as I started to grab the first man's side arm. The guard screamed and fell, clutching his leg. Vance hesitated, just a fraction, before driving his scalpel deep into the second guard’s thigh. The man staggered, but didn’t go down. His fist swung out, catching Vance square in the jaw. I heard the crack of bone before Vance crumpled. I shot him in the head. "One chance to surrender," I told the second man that was still screaming. "He resisted, and now he has no head. Get it?" The guard's scream choked off, his face paling as blood pooled around his fallen comrade. His hands shot up, fingers splayed wide. Linda Vasquez moved first, snatching the guard's sidearm from its holster with clinical efficiency. Elena was already on her feet, the legal pad forgotten as she dragged Vance's unconscious form away from the spreading blood. "Now, you keep her mouth shut and you do exactly what these people in this room say, and maybe you don't go to prison for life, or end up like your buddy did. If you don't play nice, you will end up like your buddy. Only once chance, no more." The guard nodded furiously, his hands shaking as they hovered near his bleeding leg. I kept the gun trained on him while Linda moved swiftly, tearing a strip from the bedsheet to tourniquet his wound. Leah's performance had stopped abruptly, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she watched with wide, calculating eyes. Sarah had gone still in Jennifer's arms, her fingers clutching at Jennifer's shirt like she was afraid to blink. "Sarah," I called to her. "Breathe. Pee, baby. Breathe." The guard looked confused at my words, but Sarah gasped like I had stabbed her, her body shuddering as she let go, the wet warmth spreading down Jennifer's lap where she held her. Jennifer didn't flinch, didn't react at all except to stroke Sarah's hair gently, murmuring soft reassurances. "Your experiments did that to her," I told the second guard. "She holds it when she's stressed and needs someone to let her know to go. You could see the fear in her face. She was frozen! Did you know you were doing this to little kids?" The guard swallowed hard, his eyes flicking between Sarah's trembling form and the gun in my hand. "I just... followed orders," he stammered. Linda tightened the tourniquet with a sharp jerk, making him hiss. "We'll let the courts decide that fact, as long as you don't become anymore a problem now you know what you are dealing with. You are the one that yelled out about keeping her quiet. You obviously knew Vance was supposed to incapacitate the kids and then control us, right?" The guard's throat worked silently, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks under the fluorescent lights. Behind me, Jennifer shifted Sarah's weight with a grunt, her pants soaked through but her hands steady. Leah's fingers twitched against the mattress, her breathing deliberately loud and ragged again, still playing her role. "Leah, the panic is over. We got the guards, honey. Thank you. You did great, baby." Leah's breathing slowed, but her fingers remained curled into claws against the sheets. The guard's eyes darted to her, then back to the gun in my hand, understanding dawning too late. Sarah sniffled against Jennifer's shoulder, her fingers trembling as she clutched at her wet jeans. "MPs are on their way," I told the guard. "Not not just the general MPs. We don't know which of them we can trust. We have an inside friend that's going to such this illegal stuff down." The guard's breath hitched, his fingers twitching against his thigh where Linda had bound the wound. Blood seeped through the makeshift tourniquet, darkening the white sheet. Behind me, Jennifer shifted Sarah's weight again, murmuring something too low to catch. Leah's fingers unclenched slowly, her nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in the mattress. The heart monitor had settled into a steadier rhythm, though her pulse still showed elevated. "See that attorney?" I pointed out Elena. "I'm leaving a side arm with her. If you move, you get to find out how trained she is from the Army, with a side arm. Get it?" The guard nodded rapidly, sweat beading along his hairline. Elena took the offered pistol with practiced ease, her grip adjusting subtly to account for the weight. Her gaze never left the guard’s face, her expression coldly professional. Leah’s fingers twitched again, her eyes darting to the door, anticipating more trouble, or maybe just escape. "Leah? This room is the safest place right now. Grandpa's going hunting. Third floor, cold room, right?" Leah's breath stuttered, but she nodded sharply, her fingers twisting in the sheets again. Sarah whimpered against Jennifer's shoulder, her face buried too deep to see the blood on the floor. The guard's eyes flicked to Elena's gun hand, calculating odds, then back to my face when I shifted my stance. "First mistake," I frowned and shot his other knee. "Projecting your chances, in front of a trained scout? Dumb!" The guard howled, crumpling forward against the bloody linoleum. Linda cursed under her breath, reaching for another strip of sheet. Sarah flinched violently at the gunshot, her breath hitching wetly against Jennifer's collarbone. Leah's fingers dug into my sleeve, her nails biting through the fabric as she tugged sharply, a silent warning. "He should be no trouble to finish off if he decides to try something now. Both knees are out of commission," I told the lawyer. "Hunting time." I slipped out of the room without a goodbye. It would have been hard to get away from Leah otherwise, and every second is more time for guards to converge on the safe point for our children. I would rescue Vance's child if it was the last thing I did. He gave his life to protect my kid, I will do the same for his. The hallway was eerily quiet, the fluorescent lights flickering as I moved down the corridor. My boots made no sound against the tile, years of military training kicking in. The scent of antiseptic burned my nostrils, mingling with the metallic tang of blood still clinging to my hands. Third floor. Cold room. I wondered how trained or experienced their guards were. I decided to find out. I set a noise trap, one that would slowly untie causing a clattering of medical tools two turns away from me when I was in position, and then I listened for any response. Silence stretched for three heartbeats, then the rapid thud of boots against linoleum. Two sets, moving in synchronized formation. Professionals. Not rent-a-cops. The first guard rounded the corner, weapon drawn, scanning high. His partner covered the lower angles, their movements precise. Marines, maybe. Or private contractors with spec ops backgrounds. Either way, they were disciplined enough to make this messy. They responded though. The next trap was not going to be so nice. I looked for something like high pressure air or something else that would send six scaples into the legs of anyone that tripped on the next line.... and then I waited. The first guard's boot snagged the nearly invisible filament stretched across the corridor. The hiss of pressurized gas releasing was my only warning before the scalpel barrage. Three embedded themselves in the lead man’s thigh, his scream choked off as his knee buckled. His partner reacted faster, too fast, rolling away with only a single blade grazing his forearm. He came up firing. I knew to keep the traps two corners or three away from my position. It was the only way. If nothing else, it was slowing them now that they were looking for traps. I skipped five bends before setting the next trap, one where a loose ceiling tile would fall as he used the corner as cover, causing the side of the wall to fall off weakening that ceiling tile. The next guard made the mistake of leaning against the wall as he cleared the corner, and the ceiling tile gave way above him. He stumbled forward instinctively, right into the scalpel I'd wedged into the gap between floor tiles at a forty-five-degree angle. It sank deep into his calf as he crashed down, his weapon clattering across the linoleum. His partner cursed, stepping back to reassess. I was out of traps, but they were now taking it easy on bends giving me time to get to the cold room. I glanced through the slivered door and saw a mirror. There were three inside. I needed to draw two out. "Damn it!" I yelled and threw an empty ammo clip down one side as if someone moved that way and hide down the other side until I saw them come out, in their pairs, looking. When they did, I fired. Not at them, that would’ve been too easy, but at the emergency sprinkler system’s main valve down the hall. Water erupted from the ceiling in a sudden deluge, and the guards instinctively flinched, their weapons dipping as cold water hit their faces. That was all I needed. I lunged from cover, driving my shoulder into the first man’s ribs hard enough to feel something crack. He gasped, folding like a broken umbrella, but his partner was faster, swinging his rifle toward my head. I caught the barrel with my left hand, twisting it aside as his shot went wide, the bullet pinging off a metal supply cart. The struggle was ugly, close-quarters, wet hands slipping on gunmetal. His knee came up toward my stomach, predictable, but I shifted just enough to take it on the hip instead. My free hand found the scalpel still lodged in his partner’s calf. I yanked it free in one brutal motion and drove it into the back of his thigh. He screamed, buckling forward, and I used his momentum to slam his face into the wall. Once. Twice. On the third impact, he stopped moving. I slid around the opening, and shot the man that was about to force something on a young girl, the bullet finding the arm that held it out, causing him to drop it. "You mother-fucking creep," I spat him. "You Son of a fuck ton of shit." I lowered the barrel of my gun so it was level with his balls. "Give me one fucking reason to pull this trigger. I beg you." The man scrambled backward, clutching his bleeding arm, his face twisted in pain and terror. Behind him, the girl, Vance’s daughter, was strapped to a gurney, her wrists bound with thick leather restraints. Her eyes were wide, unfocused, her lips cracked and dry. An IV drip hung beside her, the bag half-empty, the liquid inside murky. She flinched when I moved closer, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Seeing he had already been experimenting on her was the only reason I needed, for my self. I shot the fucker in the balls! Then I went over and started to help the child out of that contraption. "Baby! BAby! Baby!" I cooed at her. "It's okay. Your dad sent me to help you. He loves you very much." I knew her dad was dead and that he was coerced into helping, but I didn't tell her any of that, not yet. Her pupils were dilated, her pulse erratic under my fingers as I worked the restraints loose. The IV tube tore free when she jerked away from me, a thin trail of blood welling up from the puncture site. She didn't seem to notice. Her breathing hitched, her body trembling violently as she tried to curl into herself. I picked the baby up and ran with her out of the room and around to the other side. I knew the halls weren't clear yet. But if we were careful, they were spaced enough, and now careful of traps, that i knew if I took my time, we'd get back to the safe room I'd created with the others. The girl was so light in my arms. Too light. Her skin was cold, clammy, like someone who'd been left in a freezer too long, and I wondered just how literal the "cold room" name had been. She didn't struggle, didn't speak, just shook in my arms like a leaf in a storm, her breath shallow and uneven against my neck. "Pee," I whispered when I remembered that Leah said they'd make her try to hold it. Sarah said the same. "Pee, honey. No more holding it, okay?" The girl's breath hitched, her fingers clutching weakly at my shirt. A shudder ran through her, and then warmth spread against my chest as her bladder finally released. She whimpered, her face pressing harder into my shoulder as if she expected punishment. I tightened my hold just enough to be felt, rocking her slightly as I moved. "Good girl. That's it. Let it all out." Water dripped from the ceiling tiles ahead where I'd sabotaged the sprinklers, creating shallow puddles that reflected the flickering emergency lights. I adjusted my grip, stepping carefully to avoid slipping. The girl's breath was too fast, too shallow, hyperventilation or something worse. I could feel her ribs pressing against my arm with each gasping inhale. Soon, we heard noises outside. chopper thumping blades, bullhorns, and other noises. The MPs were there. I also found some handy work of some of my team. More guards were taken out. Finally, I was back at the safe room. "Check her, Vasquez," I told the nurse. "She's ripped an IV from her arm that they were putting stuff into her from, and she's cold. I think they lied to Vance. They had already started long before I went hunting." Sarah froze at the sight of the girl, her hands hovering mid-air before she jerked them back to her chest, fingers twisting in her soaked shirt. Jennifer moved first, peeling Sarah away with murmured reassurances while Linda took the girl from my arms with clinical efficiency. Leah was already dragging spare blankets from the supply closet, her movements jerky with adrenaline. The girl's skin was mottled, not just pale, but blotchy with the telltale patches of early hypothermia. Linda swore under her breath when she lifted the girl's wrist, revealing a row of needle marks trailing up to her inner elbow. "They weren't just hydrating her," she said, pressing two fingers to the girl's carotid. "This is track lines. They've been dosing her with something." "Well, hopefully, her nightmare is over, but it's going to be a long road to recovery, just like with the other two babies, but now, she can do so in peace. I believe I heard the police outside, and my old unit are moping up anyone that doesn't want to come peacefully. Linda placed the girl on a gurney, her fingers quick and practiced as she checked vitals. The girl's breathing remained shallow, her eyelids fluttering like she was fighting unconsciousness. Leah hovered nearby, clutching a thermal blanket, her knuckles white around the fabric.

Chapter 5 I had PE first period at school, as usual, and since Darren was called last week because I forgot my gym clothes last week, he had made sure I had them when I go on the bus this morning. He always insisted on hugging me at home before I left for school or anywhere, really, and he told me to raise my hand and get permission to go right away or to go in my pants, but to stop holding it at school because some days, I held it for two or three classes. This morning, I got the gym doors, but before walking in, Michelle stopped me and pulled me to a corner. “You caused Scott to get kicked out of the youth group both during Sunday School and during any youth activities,” she breathed in my ear as I looked down at my feet. “Who kept other kids from laughing at you during classes when you wet in your seat?” I felt my jaw tremble. My knees felt weak. I shivered. “All I asked of you, to help you out around school this year, was you don’t cause me any trouble. I suppose you think that your new boyfriend, Shane, is going to protect you?” My jaw trembled again. “You know as well as I do that he couldn’t defend you. He is more helpless than you are. He can’t even read or do confidently do multiplication.” “He can…” “Shut up. I’m talking. Now, you think you can just get my boyfriend kicked out of youth groups without being punished? Do you think no one at school wants to pick on you? You go ahead and try to hand the next week on your own. Let’s see if you really need me or not.” I felt tears start to seep down my face. “You have no reason to cry. You did this to yourself. I’m not saying I’m not your friend, but you have to learn that you can’t just betray your friends without any consequences. You will not be able ask my help this week, and I will not interfere when people ask you if you are wearing diapers or whatever you might be doing. You will learn by the end of the week if you really think I was helping you or not.” “I… I’m sorry.” “Too late. If I don’t teach you a lesson right now, you will continue to think you can just go around me. It’s time you learned how many people were leaving you alone because of me.” She took me by the arm and pushed me through PE where people could see her treating me rough. “Now, go get changed, crybaby.” And she pushed towards the girls’ changing room and then walked off to her own first period class. I shook as I walked through the locker room looking at the floor, scared to look up and see who was seeing ‘fresh meat’ since maybe Michelle was really keeping people off me like she said. I got to my locker, and I saw a note on the door, that was folded and taped with my name on it. Pearl, You are no longer untouchable. I suggest you get rid of any diapers you might have on before anyone sees it, because now, you are fair game. If you so much as make yourself known to have to pee in class, and people will be pointing other people’s attention at you, and if you suddenly stop moving around… you better hope they don’t think you have a disgusting diaper on. If you even ask the teacher and you aren’t squirming, people are going to call you diaper girl or worse. You will not know who wrote this note because it’s not a girl, and it’s not Scott. So, good luck not getting made fun of today. Your new bullies. I crumpled the note into a ball. Shaking, and staring at the closed locker door, and with the implications in the note, I wasn’t sure if anyone should see me changing right now or not. Some of the girls had seen me in a pull up when I changed at PE before, but Michelle was probably keeping the quiet. She wasn’t going to help me today. This note was proof of that. I shook my head and stuffed my other stuff in the locker and then after locking it, went to the gym squad that was my class, and sat clothed in my street clothes until the gym teacher came over to talk to us to start class. I knew the moment she came, and stood in front of us, that I was going to have to go see the principal for not dressing out. “Ms. Hunt? Why are you not dressed out for PE, again?” “I… forgot my clothes at home?” I lied. “Sure you did. Angela, start leading the class in warm ups while I have a word with your classmate.” I was pulled over to the side of the gym near the doors to the hallway. “I told you that next time you did this, you were getting not only another zero for the day, but you’ll get detention, didn’t I?” I looked down not saying anything. She did say that, but I didn’t dare tell on whoever wrote the note. Besides, the note wouldn’t make the fact that this was the fifth time since just January, and it was only February the sixteenth, the third Monday of February, any better. The note would probably make it seem like I wasn’t being bullied until now. “I’ll meet you in the principal’s office at the end of the period. This defiance has to stop. You are not the only girl that doesn’t like PE, but you are the only one not dressing out like you are supposed to. Now go see the principal before I decide that detention isn’t enough.” I walked through the empty hallways, tears running down my face. The pull up under my jeans seemed to make me feel too hot. I didn’t have a pair of panties to change into though, only more pull ups, and only if I saw the nurse. I didn’t know what I was going to do. The walk to the principal’s office seemed as though I was in one of those dreams, you know the kind, where you seem further from your goal each step you took. I could try to bolt and not go to school today, but that would probably cause trouble for Darren. He was really nice to me, and I really didn’t want to cause him any trouble. Suddenly, before I realized it, the door to the main office stood closed, barricading me from the stares and judgment that I would subject myself to once I opened the door and showed the office worker the note from the PE teacher. I peeked through the window into the office, and I was a little surprised to see Shane there. What was he doing in there, and how much influence did Michelle really have? I mean, okay, she was pretty popular and seemed to have a lot of people at school that followed her. But what kind of thing could she have on Shane to get him taken to the office before school even started? I sucked it in, and opened the door. The office lady, having seen me many times this year, just sighed. “Bathroom troubles, or teacher troubles?” she asked. “Teacher.” “Go sit next to the young man, then.” I walked over and sat next to Shane with my head down. “What are you doing here?” Shane whispered. “Didn’t dress out for PE. You?” “The teacher didn’t see my homework I put in the tray when we turned papers in.” “Your teacher knows you don’t do good in school. I didn’t know not doing homework gets you detention or something.” “Well, it’s not just that they didn’t see my paper. It looked like someone’s name got erased, but also wasn’t on the paper, and when the teacher called out the names of who it might belong to, I told her how you and I spent Saturday and Sunday working on it, but another kid said that the paper was theirs. The paper did turn out to be theirs, and then I was accused to erasing her name, and then trying to claim her work.” “That’s… ridiculous. Just because you were trying to tell the teacher that your paper had to be there, doesn’t mean you were claiming someone else’s work.” “Yeah, but that’s what the teacher thinks. So I am here for lying and cheating.” I gulped. Maybe Michelle had something to do with either the paper being done like that, or maybe she had stopped anyone else from doing it before. “Why didn’t you dress out for PE?” Shane asked me. “The teacher probably told you that you’d go to detention or something if you kept not dressing out.” “Yeah, but I couldn’t. Michelle said that she wasn’t going to help me today or the rest of the week.” “Michelle? Help you? Pearl, why would you need her help? She’s been bullying you since the start of the year.” “Well, she has…, but she also doesn’t let other kids do things to me. And she pulled me aside before first period, and she told me that I was on my own because Scott got kicked out of Church Youth Activities and Classes.” “I’m sorry. It’s just one of her tricks or something, though. I don’t think she was actually protecting you or anyone else.” “Shane,” the principal opened his door and stared right at us talking. “Whatever you have to stay to her can wait. You need to come and tell me why you were sent here.” The door closed behind them, and I sat with a heavy sigh. Even if Michelle was the bully that did both things, it proved she could influence teachers, if Shane was in trouble for cheating when he had no reason to. I helped him with his homework the last couple of days and while his Reading, History, and Science howework wasn’t fully done, his math was. The door opened again, but Shane didn’t come out. Instead, the principal waved me in, but I didn’t think I was supposed to get yelled at in front of another student. I didn’t want Shane to hear me getting in trouble for not obeying the teacher even though he know that’s what happened because I told him. “Have a seat, Pearl,” Mr. Keansley frowned at me. “I need to get something straight.” I sat down. “Um… Shane’s still in here.” My words so so faint, that I was surprised Shane could hear me, let alone Mr. Keansley. “Yes. Shane is telling me something that doesn’t make sense given what he was sent to me for.” “That I tutored him on Saturday and Sunday, and we finished his math, and we worked on his other subjects, but only really finished the math?” I asked. “Did you think that telling me something you both rehearsed before I asked would make it more believeable?” He narrowed his eyes at me. “It’s the truth. You can call both our parents. Shane finished his math, and actually of his Science since I insisted we work on his favorite class, and then he got most of his History and about half of his Reading done.” “Or did you do the work for him?” the principal crossed his arms. “I didn’t. But…,” I felt scared and my voice came out whiny and more soft. “Even if you think I did, that’s not why he got called in here? He told me in the seats outside, that his math homework disappeared and when he tried to explain that we did do it, the teacher thought he was trying to claim someone else’s work.” “Didn’t you, though, Shane? You tried to say the paper was yours, and the name was even erased. Maybe you forgot the homework at home, decided to use someone else’s paper so your parents wouldn’t get mad at you for leaving your paper at home?” “I didn’t,” Shane frowned. “All of my homework is in my homework folder that I keep especially for it since I started tutoring this weekend. That way, I can show my tutor the work and she can help me, and I have my folder in my locker right now.” “So, if we go and find your math in your folder…?” “It’s not there because I turned it in at the beginning of Math. I don’t know why the other person’s name was erased from their work, and why my paper is missing, but I know I turned it in.” “That’s all I needed you for, Pearl. I just wanted to have him confront you since he was using you as a part of his story.” “But we are telling the truth. I did help him on both Saturday and Sunday, and you can even call our parents and the Youth Group at our church.” “Go sit outside and wait for me.” I sighed and looked at Shane. I mouthed. “Sorry.” He nodded, and I walked out and sat in the chair waiting for my own doom. Maybe Michelle was right. Maybe she was able to keep both of us out of trouble, and I ruined it by getting Scott in trouble at church. Maybe if I told the Sunday School Teacher that I had started it, next Sunday, then he’ll let Scott come back, and Michelle might forgive us. Chapter Six Shane eventually left the principal’s office and with a sorrowful glance my way, he walked to the main office worker and they whispered. I sat there, not knowing how else I could help. About ten minutes before the end of class, Mrs. Jensen came into the office and waved me to come with her as she knocked at the principal’s door. “Mrs. Jensen?” “I am here to talk about Pearl’s behavior in class. I figured she should be present because frankly, the only reason she didn’t fail PE last semester is your current policy that Gym, Art, and Music should not have meaning for grades.” “Have a seat. Shall I call for Mr. Hunt?” “I mean, it really depends on what you are going to do about Pearl’s behavior. If you are just going to dismiss it, then calling her parent in is not going to fix anything. However, I will not have her disrupting other students and have them think there is no consequences at all, so if you don’t plan to hold her accountable for PE, then I suggest she spends PE in the office for the rest of the year, or you figure out something else because her sitting on the bleachers would certainly elicit the same response by other girls that don’t want to run.” “I mean, it is a class. I am trying to go by district policies.” “District policies surely don’t allow for students be disruptive even if they are trying not to focus on the importance of grades in ‘elective classes?” “That is also true. We could just have her go to ISS for being disruptive, and that would affect her grades in all of her classes, but it would only be fair if we talk to her parent and we start that consequence from now so she knows, if she misses PE, she misses classes for the rest of the day and earns a zero… no make ups for that day at all.” “I can agree with that.” “I’ll send her to her second class today, but look at me Pearl. If you pull the no PE clothes thing tomorrow, you will get a zero in every single class, and any homework that you have completed for that day and any assigned that day will both earn zeroes whether you do them or not.” I nodded, tears running down my face. “This goes for all of your other classes, no matter what. If you are disruptive, you go to ISS. If you decide to be Absent on an ISS day, then you will get 3 days OSS and 2 more days of ISS, do you understand?” “Ye… yes sir.” “Good. Now get yourself to the bathroom so you don’t disrupt your next class.” I ran out of the principal’s office, and made my way to the bathrooms, only to see it full of girls who stared at me like I was in the wrong place. The bell rang overhead, and I knew other girls would be going to the bathroom soon, but as luck had it, I was able to get into a stall before anyone caught that I was there. The note said that they were going to watch me. Would they know if I was holding it? If I suddenly stopped squirming… they would tell the whole school I was in diapers. I could try to deny it. Maybe. But what if I really had to go, and the teacher said no? I’d wet myself, and if nothing leaked out, then they would know I was wearing diapers, wouldn’t they? I sat on the toilet, with my pants down and stared into my pull up. I tried to push my body to go, but nothing came out. I didn’t usually have to go this early. It wasn’t usually until either near the end of Science or the middle of math when I had to go most days. I didn’t have any panties with me. But if everything went wrong, and there wasn’t a puddle under me, would the other kids find a way to get me exposed that I had on diapers? Could they? It’s not like they can pull my pants down in front of everyone, could they? I sighed and pulled up my pants, and while I was washing my hands, Michelle came out of one of the stalls. “Trying not to pee your pants for once in class?” she asked with a coldness that I felt from the space between her exited cubical and the sink where I was washing my hands. “I hope you don’t have a diaper on. I’m not going to protect you if you… do anything wrong. You have to earn that back by learning your lesson that you need me, and then asking me to help you again, and agreeing to obey my rules again.” I frowned. Several other girls heard her. “You are really going to let other kids call her names and draw attention to her babyish stuff?” one of Michelle’s friends asked. “She got another friend of mine in trouble. What have I always told you all about being my friend?” “You told us not to betray you or people you cared about.” “For the week, I don’t care about Michelle, so do whatever you want to her. Anyone that doesn’t at least mention her peeing her pants, if she does it, will not be showing loyalty to me.” The girls gathered around the sink she went to wash her hands at, and I slipped out of there and to Science. Mrs. Carnsley’s class went pretty fast, and I didn’t have much trouble there. But then I was in Mr. Bronson’s Math class. It was around ten minutes in, about 9:35, when I felt like I needed to pee, and class lasted until around 10:10, so I knew I had about 35 minutes to wait, and a lot of times, I knew I couldn’t wait much longer than twenty minutes. “We are watching you,” echoed in my mind. “As soon as you stop dancing around in your seat, we will accuse you of wearing diapers even if you aren’t, there will be no one to stop the rumors or to protect you this time. Everyone is watching.” I felt nervous and my face heated up. If I didn’t wiggle, they would know I was wearing a diaper. I closed my legs a little bit more, and looked around at who might be watching. I didn’t see anyone looking at me, but I felt the hairs on the back of my neck pick up, and it caused me to rub my knees, in anticipation of someone just waiting to jump up and tell the whole class that I had to pee. I kept my hand pointedly down so as not to draw attention. Maybe no one knew I had to go yet. I wasn’t squirming yet, I didn’t think. But I could feel my knees discreetly rubbing against each other. There was a giggle somewhere near, and I looked over, but it looked like three girls, who were always giggling about something in class, had just seen something funny about a boy near them. They didn’t seem to be watching me. “Imagine my embarrassment,” I remembered one of the homes I was at when I was eleven years old. “Being called at work to come and pick up a kid I was taking care of because she needed clean clothes… because she did THAT on herself. I had to explain to my friends why I needed to take off work, and trust me, telling people that a kid in my house that I was taking care of, just pooped her pants for no reason at school….” I shivered. I paid for that embarrassment. I tried even harder not to pee my pants for a week, even though it hurt really bad sometimes. And as I did, I guess it did help me stop doing it, but it still hurt when I held it… and later, started to hurt when I peed or when I held it. I didn’t want to embarrass Darren. He was nice. If the whole school knew I was peeing my pants, it probably would embarrass Darren because some parents would start talking. Shane’s parents might even tell him that I’m just a troublemaker, and they weren’t even sure Shane should be getting tutored by a Miss Pee Pants. I started to feel my legs shaking, and it had less to do with the pee in my bladder at the moment than the nervousness that Shane’s parents and other parents would judge Darren and make him hate me. I couldn’t let them know I peed my pants, and maybe I shouldn’t tell Darren about the note, or why I didn’t want to go to PE, or especially that I was trying to hold it right now, when he always told me not to…. I couldn’t help thinking about Darren and embarrassing him, and the more I thought about him, the faster my legs shook, and the more I started squirming in my seat. I looked around, but I couldn’t see anyone looking directly at me, to see if I was moving around. But they were watching. The note said they were, and Michelle said she wasn’t going to protect me now, and apparently she was the only reason no one talked about whether I wore diapers at school or if I peed my pants. I had a diaper on. If people weren’t looking for it, I should be able to just pee like Darren tells me to, but people were looking for it. The note said so. I stuttered as Mr. Bronson called on me at 9:52. “Would you mind showing the class how you would do the example on the board?” He often called on students to do examples, but not only to check our understanding, but sometimes, asking us to explain and I figured that was so others would get it, too. “I… I didn’t do the homework today,” I lied. “See me after class,” Mr. Bronson nodded and let me sit down to squirm in my seat. I could see it in his face, that he didn’t believe for a second that I didn’t do the homework. He probably knew I was about pee my pants… or maybe he thought I had already done it, and was scared to go to the board. “Michelle, why don’t you show us how it is done.” I looked back over at Michelle, but she didn’t seem to be watching me, directly. I sat shaking and trying to wiggle my legs more exaggerated and on purpose so she didn’t think I had already peed my pants. I didn’t know if she would tell everyone or not if she thought I peed, but I knew she wasn’t going to protect me if I stopped moving around. I was scooting back and forth in my seat now, trying not to pee, and holding my knees together, squeezing, and nervously looking for whoever was checking to see if I was stopping moving. I still couldn’t see who was actually trying to catch me. But I was scared to chance it, besides, I had to pee and didn’t want anyone to know if any went in my pants. So I had to keep moving around because they would assume I did it, if I stopped moving. That’s what the note said. The minutes on the clock seemed to tick slowly. “Go sit down,” Mr. Bronson told Michelle sounding disappointed. “And everyone pay attention.” Michelle dropped a piece of paper on my desk, but before I could look at it, Mr. Bronson looked over at me. “Pearl. Come up and do this problem. I understand that you might be a little uncomfortable, but you’re the only one that seems to get this. Now, please.” I stood up. I never disobeyed when someone told me to do something, not directly. That was a good way to really get in trouble, and it would make Darren even more embarrassed if I misbehaved for the teacher on top of not doing the assignment and then peeing my pants, too. “Just take your time, Pearl. No one is looking at the seat of your pants, and if they are, they are going to fail the upcoming test, because this problem or one like it will definitely be on the test in more than one form or another.” I gulped. The teacher believed I was already wet and seemed to have already told the class as much, though he chose his words as if he was trying to be discreet. He failed miserably. Shaking, and trying harder to wiggle as I went to the board so everyone knew I was still holding it, I walked up and took the chalk from him. “Just take your time,” he said to me quietly. “The slower you explain it, the better because a lot of your peers are acting like apes trying to read.” I snorted a little as I started to work on the problem, exaggerating every movement I made to control it not coming out. I explained the best I could, but I was frustrated because I was so embarrassed that I had to wiggle like this so no one would say I peed myself. I felt tears in my eyes as I tried to keep it up. It was tiring and caused my legs to tire because of how exaggerated I was trying to do it so no one would think I was losing… but then…, it happened. I leaked a little bit. I looked around at everyone as I quickly tightened my legs together and put a hand in my crotch. “Mr. Bronson?” I whispered. He frowned at me. “You need to leave the room?” he asked me. I felt my face get hot as a little more leaked in my pull up. I felt tears starting to stream down my face even though I kept trying to wiggle and try to make it seem that I wasn’t losing, yet. “Just go. If you get caught in the halls, I’ll clear it up with the office later. Just go before you have an accident.” I raced out of the room, holding myself, but it was too late. I was peeing before I got out the door, and I finished peeing my pants in the hallway not more than five feet from the classroom door. Chapter Seven I looked back at the classroom door and down the hall to the nurse office. If I went to the office, would I get in trouble for leaving class? Mr. Bronson might have tried to let me use the bathroom, and might have said he’d talk to the principal, but everyone knows the principal has more power than a teacher, and I left class. My face red. My heart knowing Darren was going to hear of me peeing my pants in class again, on purpose or something, but also realizing that staying out of classes would cause him more trouble, I walked back to the door with all the resisting rebellion I could muster, and I slipped in and back to my seat just as the bell rang. I sighed and started to gather my stuff, and I shoved the unread note deep in my bag, not wanting it to be found lingering by just anyone. It was bad enough if someone didn’t already expect me to be watched, but it would be worse if a teacher saw it, or if… Shane realized I caused trouble at school. I walked into Mr. Wallace’s Life Skills class with my head down. My pull up was heavy and wet, and I knew the whole math class was aware I couldn’t have gotten to the bathroom in the short time I was out of the room, meaning that those watching for a sign knew I peed my pull up, and probably thought I actually did it fully in the classroom, and probably thought I just walked out of the room so the teacher wouldn’t know it. Mr. Wallace stood at the front of the classroom area of the class room, that was so big that there were four kitchens off to the side of the room for us to work in teams. “Now, I want to go over some safety rules in the kitchen before I turn you loose, so let’s talk about carrying knives and handling kitchen tools….” I sighed. These rules seemed pointless by now, not that they were in place, but that the teacher thought he had to repeat them over and over. People that were still playing with stuff they weren’t supposed to were not going to stop just because he said it was dangerous. “And…,” Mr. Wallace looked my way for a moment, but when he started talking turned to look at others. “…Let’s talk about appropriate and clean things your hands should be doing when you are cooking.” That was a new rule, but it only caused me to blush more. I knew he was probably referring to me trying to hold it from peeing my pants, or maybe other people scratching their bodies because, well, we kids get distracted or something and we just touch whatever without thinking. I thought it was more about he was trying to tell me not to hold it from peeing with my hands without actually telling the class that he was trying to tell me not to. I felt my face get more crimson than ever. The rules took maybe ten minutes to go over, but then he surprised us all by rearranging our cooking groups last minute, and I noticed he left me out of any groups. I watched everyone else go to the kitchen he assigned them before shaking, I stood up and walked over to his desk. “You are wondering why I didn’t assign you to a group?” he looked up at me with a frown. “Have you used the bathroom today yet?” he asked me. “What… what do you mean?” “I mean did you go the toilet, or did you wet in your pants yet?” he looked at me with a look that said he thought I knew exactly what he meant, and I was trying to do something sneaky. I shrugged. “Pearl. You either tell me, or you go to the office.” “Oh,” I blushed hard. “I sat on the toilet after PE, and I… I did an accident during last period.” My voice was shaky and low as I nervously looked around at the others who seemed too busy with their kitchen activities to notice that the teacher was pulling the ‘bad kid’ away. “So, you’re wearing clean clothes then?” he looked into my eyes and it seemed like he could look right into my mind where I was worried he’d know I had on a wet pull up. I tried to turn around to show him that I was not wet anywhere. “Did I ask you to turn for me?” He whispered to me. “Look, by now your guardian would know better than to send you to school without at least a pull up on. You’ve pottied your pants, what, ten times already this semester alone? So turning and showing me dry pants is not going to convince me you are not sitting in soiled underthings.” I blushed even more. “Take this note, and go see the nurse. I will know if you decided to hide out because the nurse will have to send you back with a pass, which I will take from you.” I frowned. “Okay,” the whine from my throat sounded so loud in my ears, that I looked up over at the kitchens, but still, there were no eyes on me. “Hurry, and you might have time to join group three and still get credit for today’s work.” I walked out of the class, but I didn’t care about credit. There was no way I wanted to join group three after being sent to the nurse. They would know for sure I was wearing wet, and since my pants didn’t show, then the sleepers that Michelle had around watching me would know I was in a diaper. I took my time getting to the office, not exactly disobeying about going, just not in a hurry to join the group and then get asked if it was because I had another accident, or maybe overhear them talking about me having had an accident and sent out of the room for it. “Go wait by one of the sick beds,” Nurse Phillips said quite unsurprised to see me in her office—again. “You know the routine, and I’ll be back to help you when I have a moment.” I smiled and nodded at her trying to be polite. She had helped me out so many times this year, especially because Darren insisted on it, that it was routine that I was sent directly to the sick bed, so no one really knew I was sick or if what happened, happened. I sat on the bed and started to unbutton my pants. I sat on the bed naked waist down and my wet pull up inside my jeans on the floor while I waited for the nurse to come back where I was with a clean diaper and a towel and some water to clean up with. “Honey,” Nurse Phillips peeked her brown rusty head of hair through the curtain to hand me the wet towels first. “Things are going alright with Mr. Darren Hunt, aren’t they?” “Yes, ma’am. He’s really nice.” “Well, you’ve had more than four months to stop with these problems, and you are supposed to be healthy according to the doctors.” “Yes ma’am.” I was starting to wipe at my thighs and between to get the stink off. “So, I know it can be really hard to adjust especially when you are in a difficult placement, but you say you like Darren….” “I do.” “Then, why do you still pee your pants at school, young lady?” “I…” I looked down. “It’s hard to go at school.” “Don’t you feel safe at school with Darren taking care of you?” I knew better than to say no until I heard the whole question. They were tricky, especially when they tried to control your answers. So, when I heard the whole question, I answered. “I… I am safe. But at school, Darren isn’t here.” “Darren has set up for you to get clean with the nurse, has made it so teachers are supposed to let you go, and because of him, I allow you to wear diapers and give you a safe place to clean up to put on clean ones.” “Yeah? But he’s still not here,” I dug in. “Just because he told you to do stuff, doesn’t mean you will do it.” Nurse Phillips frowned. “When have I denied you the chance to clean yourself up or give you a pass if you need on?” “Not talking about you,” I frowned. “But Darren doesn’t control everyone at school.” “What teachers are not doing what they are supposed to?” I sighed. “The teachers are doing what the principal says.” “So, you know you are safe, and the teachers are doing what they are supposed to, so the thing is, you can’t just keep peeing on purpose for attention. Eventually, that’s going to cause you other problems.” “I know,” I said wanting to end this conversation. Nurse Phillips sounded concerned, but truth be told, I didn’t really know why she kept bringing up that I control going to the bathroom when I knew I still couldn’t. Yeah, it was partly wrestling if the teacher will let me, but now, worse than ever, it had to do with the other kids and what they were thinking and planning to do if they got me alone. By now, the whole school knew I wore a diaper today. I knew Michelle would have made sure of that. I did successfully waste enough time, that when I was dressed and ready to go, the nurse shook her head. “There’s no point in going to class right now. Just stay with me until the period is over and you can go to lunch.” “Yes, Ma’am,” I tried to keep my face neutral in case she might see me smile about having gotten out of not being in class at the moment. “I may have to take more charge of your changes if you insist on acting like you are a little kid rather than a teenager.” I looked up at her, but she didn’t look like she meant it. If anything, if what she said about me doing it for attention was really something she thought, then wouldn’t it just be handing me what I supposedly wanted by taking more charge? Besides, wasn’t she too busy to be actually taking care of it like Darren sometimes does? “Look, you and I both know I think it would be wrong for me to take it that far, but honestly, the principal has talked to me about whether or not my leaving the class was fair to other students and if it was disruptive. And if it was, maybe I should be embarrassed the next time, from maybe being changed instead of letting me do it myself. I frowned at her. “You can do what you think you have to, but if you hit me, Darren will get involved. He promised me, that I have to tell him what you do to me at school, and if he doesn’t like it, or if I feel scared from it, and I have to tell him, then he will make sure someone loses their job over it.” “If you are trying to threaten me, little miss….” “It not a threat,” I whispered. “It the truth. If I don’t tell him if I feel upset, he going to make me tell him. He won’t take no for an answer.” “Well, as I’m not doing any hitting, what are you going to tell him? My nurse changed me and I didn’t like being put in a clean diaper after I chose to shit my pants?” “I didn’t,” I whimpered. “I just peed.” “Last week? Just as you were getting on the bus for home, you didn’t?” “That wasn’t last week,” I frowned. “It’s been a while.” “Whatever, you were still too old to be doing that on purpose.” I nodded. “Yeah, I know. But I didn’t do it on purpose.” The nurse shook her head. “Well, go have lunch. The bell is about to ring. -- I walked into the lunchroom and looked around a little bit scared of getting in line. Michelle could be anywhere, and I had to see where she was and if anyone was watching me before I did anything. Suddenly, Ryan slipped up next to me and he took my hand. “Pearl? Shane is waiting for you. Do you need to buy a lunch first.” “Um, yeah, but….” “Come on. I want to get you out of here. There are rumors going around, and I think it’s just best to get you somewhere that no one wants to be.” “Where would that be?” Ryan smiled. “Oh, trust me, no one is going to follow us where I’m taking you. Shane is waiting for you.” We walked through the line and Ryan stayed right at my side despite not having money for his own lunch because he had a paper sack lunch. “What are you doing? You’re not supposed to be in line if you’re not getting a lunch.” Ryan frowned at the kids that called him out. “There aren’t any rules that say I can’t walk my little sister through the line. So I suggest you find someone who cares to complain to.” “What do you think the principal would say to you cutting in line?” “Cutting?” he got up in the kid’s face and laughed. “Since I didn’t buy anything and didn’t take any extra time, I’m not cutting. Nice try.” I shook a little bit. “Hey, it’s okay, little sister. We’ll help you get cleaned up if we need after lunch, so don’t be scared.” “I didn’t…,” I whimpered. “Then there’s nothing to be scared of. The principal can’t do anything about me protecting you. There is no rule about staying out of the lunch line, and we aren’t fighting, are we?” I frowned. “But, Michelle….” “Michelle and Scott are the reasons that I have told Shane we are doing this. You do as I say, and no one will bother you, and if you get scared and pee, then we make sure you get clean after lunch. No problem.” I sighed and let him lead me to the pay clerk where I punched in my student number, and then Ryan led me right up to Scott. “I suggest you let us pass. There are enough facility adults in the lunch room, that they will see you blocking us, especially if I have Pearl just pee herself right here, in front of you blocking her. Think about how that will look.” Scott stepped aside with a scoff. “Everyone knows she pissed herself earlier.” “Do they? Because I rumors I heard was that she was dancing around, but she was dry when she came back to class.” “She’s dry because she’s wearing a diaper.” “How much to do you want to bet on that? And when you make her cry and find out she’s not in a diaper, but also that you are about to be suspended…. For bullying….” “Yeah? Well, after school it’s on.” “Oh, you mean you and me? Sure. After I put my sister on the bus, we can fight all day. I’m not scared of you.” They glared at each other for seconds before Ryan took my arm and started to lead me away. “So, where are you taking me, then, Ryan? Where wouldn’t anyone want to follow us?” “Mr. Hailings’s English class,” Ryan smiled. “He’s the worst teacher here,” I frowned. “Exactly. None of Michelle’s thugs are going to want to go in there during lunchtime.” “I mean, I don’t want to go in there. He’s kind of … well, he’s not fun to be around.” “Exactly,” Ryan smiled. We walked in, and I saw Shane at the back of the room with a game out and his lunch ready but not eating. “Are you sure about this Ryan?” Shane asked him. “Mr. Hailings could come in at any time and demand what we are doing here.” “And when he sees Pearl tutoring you, what’s he going to say. Pearl, you’re not allowed to tutor?” “What about you?” “Oh, if he wants, I’ll leave. But I’m not doing anything wrong, so I don’t think he’ll care if I’m not bugging you and Pearl.” “Pearl’s dad didn’t say she could tutor me at school. School is too stressful for her.” Ryan shrugged. “So? Just because we tell old Mr. Hailings that’s what you are doing doesn’t mean it has to be true. You can both talk about classes without actually doing any work, and he wouldn’t care if he heard a teacher’s name thrown here or there while you are talking, would he?” I narrowed my eyes at Ryan. “You are….” “Clever?” Ryan asked. “Shrewd and very cunning,” I corrected him. He shrugged. “But you don’t have to worry about Michelle or Scott trying to watch you to see if you pee your pants, though.” Shane nodded. “He’s right. I don’t think Mr. Haillings is going to care if we are early to class.” I shook my head. His main problem with a lot of students, is them being late wanting an extra few minutes for lunch. I whispered. “What if I have to…?” “We’ll check on you about ten minutes before the end of lunch,” Ryan told me. “If you need, I have somewhere that you can change and no one will see.” “I… I don’t know about that.” “I do,” Ryan frowned. “Look, Shane and I don’t mind if you have a little difficulty, but we do care if people are going to be mean to you. You obviously can’t go see the nurse about it because the other kids will find out and be mean about it. So, if you let Shane take care of it for you, and you trust us, we can keep other kids from finding out you had to change your pants.” “I am wearing a diaper,” I whispered. “The rumors were….” “…Not proven,” Ryan cut me off. “I don’t care if you are wearing one right now or not. After lunch, you will definitely go with Shane to our private place. He will get you changed into something more… our age, and if anyone tries to prove anything, they will find that they are in the wrong.” “Um… Darren knows I was sent to school in….” “So? Your dad wants you to feel safe,” Ryan cut me off again. “He’s not going to get mad if you wore panties after kids started claiming you were in a diaper, and making you feel bad, is he?” “I’m not sure.” “Then I’ll talk to him and find out for you. I saw the way he took care of you last night. He doesn’t want you made fun of, trust me.” I sighed. “Okay.” Mr. Hailings did come to the classroom about twenty minutes early and started setting up. When I looked over at him, he rose an eyebrow at us, but other than that, left us alone to talk while he was working on getting things ready. “Come on,” Ryan prodded Shane up with the toe of his shoe. “You don’t want Pearl to have a hard afternoon, do you?’ “No.” “I happen to know how to slip into one place where students cannot easily bother her.” “Are you students supposed to be in there?” Shane asked. “Maybe… not…,” Ryan smirked. “But look at this way. There is no hard rule that says it’s off limits to students, and because no one else wants to be near a teacher when they don’t have to be, then it just seems off limits because no one wants to be there. But it’s not in the handbook. I looked it up last night.” “So, what do I say if the principal says it was implied?” Shane asked Ryan. “Simple. Who is the adult. If you don’t want students somewhere, you place signs and you write it in the handbook. Since you never did either, then Pearl getting changed away from prying eyes is not wrong, or is it?” She frowned. “I don’t think mom and dad would agree with your logic.” “Oh, mom, will. Especially after I tell her all the rumors going around about both you and Pearl.” “Don’t tell Pearl about my rumors. She has enough problems.” “Then do as I say so you can both stay out of fights.” “I think Ryan plans to fight this afternoon,” I told Shane. “Pearl! You weren’t supposed to tell him that Scott confronted us in the lunch room.” “Did I say who or where?” I asked Ryan. “You still told him the main thing I didn’t want you to tell him.” “And why wouldn’t you want him to know you are thinking about fighting Scott?” Shane cut us both off staring at Ryan. “Maybe because I don’t want to A… see you get kicked out of school for Scott’s BS, and B… I don’t want you getting ambushed because not everyone fights with the same kind of honor you always seem to say you do.” “Are you saying you don’t believe I fight honorably?” Ryan looked Shane in the eye. “I’m not saying that you do or you don’t. I’m saying Scott definitely doesn’t, and if you do, then you’ll likely get ambushed.” “Fine. Fair. But he’s not going to get away with picking on my sister or my brother. Besides I owe him for threatening Rachelle a few months back when he told her that if she left Michelle standing, he could do things to her.” “Well, you know I want a piece of that. But let’s do it when we aren’t supposed to be at school, that way, the school can’t come back down on us… unless you want Pearl to get in trouble for something has nothing to do with her.” “Fine. But you know Scott’s going to try to call me a coward.” “His big mistake.” We were walking through the halls, and a few kids were looking towards me, but Ryan and Shane quickly put me between them as we walked and slipped into a side hall passage behind a door that I hadn’t really noticed before. Of course, this area didn’t lead to any classrooms or where students normally went, so maybe that’s why I missed it. “There you are,” Ryan pointed at three door that said restroom on them. “Where are the boys’ or girls’ signs on them?” Shane asked. “You don’t think the authorities ever put up with what they make the kids go through, do you?” Ryan quipped. “Shane. These are just toilets for anyone that wants to use them. When someone is in, they lock the door, and the person in there has complete privacy.” “You haven’t been going in here….” Ryan smirked. “Maybe… when I knew the area was empty.” Shane brought me to a door and stood next to it. “Um… here,” and he handed me a pair of girl’s panties. I blushed and so did he. “Just do it as quick as you can, and don’t worry if your… um… whatever. Just throw it away and pretend it never existed.” “Exactly,” Ryan smiled. “Shane and I will stay outside, so if you hear us talking to a teacher, you’ll know you might need to hurry.” “It’s not even wet,” I shook. “So?” Ryan pushed at my back. “I heard a rumor that the other kids are planning to do something. I’m not sure what, yet, but if they do anything that exposes your panties, that’s what you’ll have on… panties and not what the bullies are telling everyone.” “Where did you two get… these?” “Does it matter?” Ryan asked. “Do you want everyone to find you wearing the things the bullies are saying… or worse, nothing at all?” I sighed and walked into the bathroom and changed myself in the panties. They were a little small for me, but if someone did somehow find out or get my pants down like it sounded that Ryan thought they were planning…. It was better to be wearing panties, even if they were a little small. I still don’t know how we didn’t get caught! We somehow got back to English in plenty of time, so we were not late, and Mr. Hailings didn’t say a word about us spending time in the classroom… like at all. Chapter Eight I still don’t believe we got away with using the faculty facilities without anyone knowing or caring. I had some small panties on my butt that weren’t mine, but still, Ryan seemed to think I needed them even though no one pantsed me at school. I guess he had reason to think they were going to try though. Shane and Ryan ran over to my bus before I got on, and they both brought to the back of the bus to have a word. “Tomorrow, wear what you need,” Ryan said while Shane just said ‘yeah’ or nodded because he was as embarrassed as I was, evident by the tomoto-color face he had. “But meet us at the back of the school before you go in. I’ll have a replacement for the pair you need to wash out.” “Um… I’ll just bring some of mine,” I frowned. “Well, I’m bring a pair of my sister’s anyway in case you forget,” Ryan told me with a hard stare that meant he was the boss. “If you show me you have two or three of your own, then we won’t have to use Rachelle’s, but I’ll have them in case you really need them. The kids are going to pants you. I don’t know when yet, but I’ve been hearing them talk about the best time or place to really embarrass you.” “What if I actually… um… pee though?” Ryan shrugged. “They can’t say you have a diaper on though if you don’t have one on. Just meet with us as soon as class is over if you are wet. You meet with us. Don’t try to go to the faculty toilets alone because since not too many students go there, it would be an easy place to get you alone and then what good would Shane and me be?” “You really care about this?” I asked. Shane spoke up. “Of course, we do. You… I like you, and when Ryan calls someone his sister… he’s not like Michelle where he would turn on someone for something so little as having a little conflict with another friend. When he calls you his sister, he means it.” I felt a tear run down my face. “Get on the bus before you miss it and cause trouble at home, okay?” And Shane gave me a hug. I sat by myself, somehow, and looked out the window thinking about everything those boys were doing. I wondered how many things they were doing that could get them in trouble. Sneaking their sister’s panties? Sneaking into parts of the school that may not be black and white out of bounds, but common kids know that we aren’t supposed to be there, fighting with bullies and with people that would even be unfair, and just all of it, just to stop people from finding out the truth, that I wore diapers today and I actually wet myself… and they didn’t care if I wet or not. They told me to change the panties, not accusing me of being wet, but Ryan scared I was going to be pantsed. If finding empathetic adults in foster care was a challenge, or even adults that cared if my pants were wet or not, unless it was a reason to punish me, that was nothing to finding other kids that cared if I was picked on either by foster parents that didn’t really love or if I was picked on by other school kids, was even more impossible. Tears welled in my eyes and I heard the voices of Ryan and Shane’s concern echoing in my ears. “If you don’t bring your own panties to school tomorrow, then we’ll have back up panties from our sister’s room. We don’t care what condition the panties are in, we just don’t want anyone to see you in a diaper and hurt your feelings, and I think someone is planning to pants you. You can go to the faculty bathrooms to change, but don’t go alone. It will be out of the way, and easier to get you alone, you take Shane or me with you if you peed your pants and need to change….” I started really crying. I couldn’t help myself. No one ever cared before… well, except maybe Darren. When I got to the bus stop, and started to walk home, my eyes still tearing up though I was trying to control my breathing and trying to hide I had been crying, it was just not happening. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone cared enough about me to try to help this much. I let myself in, and that’s when I saw Darren in the kitchen, where he could normally be found when I got back from school. He worked until 3:30, but somehow, he always beat me home, by just minutes, normally. “Hey, what’s wrong? Did someone hurt you today?” “Um… no,” I was still whiny though, and couldn’t help the tears. “It’s actually the opposite. Those two boys from last night, Shane and his brother?” “The boy I’m letting you tutor for extra money and his brother?” “Yeah. Today? They like… I don’t know how to say it,” and I started bawling again. “What did they do to you?” “Nothing!” I stomped my foot still crying. “That… that’s what I’m tr… tr… trying to tell you….” I sniffed. “They kept trying to keep other kids off of me. Michelle was going to… to… let her friends pants me or something. They helped me!” He had me in his arms by this time. “I don’t understand why you’re crying, if they helped you,” Darren asked. “Well. No… no… one has ever… you know… Just you.” Darren rocked me. “You’re pants are wet, honey.” I cuddled into him not caring and he picked me up and carried me to his favorite chair, and he cuddled with me for a bit. -- On Tuesday, I woke up and saw that Darren was already working in the kitchen getting breakfast ready. I was wearing soaking wet pajamas even after Darren had made me take a shower the night before. “How are you feeling, sweetheart? You’re up a little earlier than usual.” “I peed.” “You know that’s okay, don’t you honey?” “I know. It’s just the peeing in my pants kind of woke me up.” “Don’t you want to go get a shower, baby?” “By… by myself?” I shivered. “No, no, it’s okay. I’ll take you to help you in a minute. I was just offering to let you if you were ready, but I can see you aren’t.” “I… I’m going to wear panties to school today, okay?” “Do you think that’s best given you wet yourself a couple of times yesterday?” “I… I might get pantsed. Ryan thinks Michelle is going to get me pantsed, and I’d rather them catch me peeing my pants than being see in a diaper. Besides, if I don’t wear my own panties, Ryan is going to make me wear his sister’s panties.” “You know, you could just stay home from school today.” “No, I don’t want to. I… I need to go to PE class today. Oh, they probably going to tell you to come and talk to the school. I didn’t dress out in PE again because… stuff happened.” “I know we packed your PE clothes.” “I told them I forgot them though.” “Why did you do that, little one?” “Um… people were watching me too much and I didn’t want them to see me in a diaper.” “Ah. And that’s why you actually want to wear panties? Honey, you don’t have to lie and tell me that someone is going to pants you if you are just afraid of dressing for PE, we could make sure the nurse remembers the arrangement I tried to set up before where you go there before school to put on panties and then go there after PE to put your diaper on again.” “I… I’m sorry,” I decided not to tell Darren that he was wrong. He was trying, and it was kind of strange to think I’d be pantsed. No one else had ever been pantsed that I was aware of. “I still rather wear panties. Please?” “Sweetheart, what if you wet your pants in class?” “Are… are you going to get mad?” “No, baby. It’s up to you. I just don’t want you to feel humiliated.” “I… want to wear panties.” “Then we’ll talk no more of it. But I will pack you a couple of pull ups just in case you change your mind later, okay?” “Okay. But I want to bring two extra pair of panties and extra clothes… just in case.” “That’s a good idea.” After I ate breakfast, Darren took me to the bathroom to let me get ready while he kept guard inside the bathroom like always. I knew I was safe when he was in there with me. -- Before school started, I went behind the school like we planned and handed them back their sister’s panties, which Darren did wash for me so I could give them back. I blushed as I handed them over. “Tell your sister I’m sorry,” I told Ryan. “Why?” Ryan asked. “You didn’t take them, I did.” “I… I kind of peed in them.” “I already knew that would happened though, right Shane?” “Yeah. It’s okay, Pearl. It’s not your fault.” “We should take you to the bathroom so you can put on some panties if you have a diaper on, and if you have panties on, then try to pee so you don’t wet in PE.” Shane blushed looking at the floor. “Um… okay.” “Don’t worry. We’ll use the faculty bathrooms,” Ryan told us. “And make sure, whether you want to pee or you’ve done it in your pants, you come and get Shane and me after class to take you. No one can bully you or pants you if we are with you.” “Yeah, okay.” They walked with me into a different entrance than most students used that put us right near that secret hallway, and this time, Ryan pushed Shane into the bathroom with me. “Make sure she wears panties, Shane. Don’t let her wear a diaper. I don’t want her to get pantsed in PE and them see a diaper on her, and anyway, she has to take her pants off in PE, so people will see anyway if they look.” “She’s fourteen, Ryan. She can….” “Remember what happened to Rachelle at Michelle’s swim party?” “Rachelle wasn’t wearing a diaper.” “But she was checked, and you know Michelle is going to check her. And do you really think Pearl is able to face people yet, and make them back off?” “No,” he sighed. “I guess not.” “You know she’s scared. That’s why I’m not going in there. You make sure she gets changed into panties and that she pees in the toilet, for real.” “She… she’ll pee without being watched.” “Shane!” I felt my mouth hang open while the discussion took place. It could see the fierceness in Ryan’s eyes as he pushed Shane into ‘taking care of me,’ and while he seemed more than willing to take care of me, he seemed to think it wasn’t his place to make sure I followed their rules, but Ryan seemed to think it was their place to ‘help me.’ “Ryan. I can…,” I felt my voice scratch against my throat, and it sounded so quiet, he definitely couldn’t hear me over his directive over Shane to help me. “Look. She trusts you because you are nice to her, but if you don’t do it, I’ll go in there and do it, and I don’t think she’ll feel as safe if I help her.” “I’ll take her to the bathroom,” Shane nodded and grabbed my hand. “We don’t need her to be scared of the people trying to help her.” “That’s what I thought,” Ryan had his hands on his hips. “Here’s the bag with Rachelle’s extras in case she didn’t bring her own.” Shane took it, but he had a sour look on his face. He walked me inside and with a sigh, shut the door and locked it behind us. “I’m sorry, Pearl. I’m not trying to scare you and neither is Ryan. Maybe we should explain what Michelle did to Rachelle or something so you’ll understand why we are worried.” He walked over and gently pushed my shoulders until I was next to the toilet. “Do you have panties or a diaper on?” he whispered. “Panties,” I looked down shaking with my face on fire. “Then use the bathroom. I’ll turn away so I’m not watching.” I waited for him to turn and then pulled down my pants and sat, but pulled them back up nearly to my lap so he couldn’t see just in case he was tempted to look at me. He was a boy after all. He might be curious. “Michelle took Rachelle to her pool party one day. This was before dad told Rachelle couldn’t go to her birthday party, and it was one of the reasons he said no… I think.” I sat and started to pee. “Michelle warned Rachelle that he had pictures of her wet bed at that party, and she told her that she didn’t have to worry about the pictures though, but if she told anyone she had them, or if she tried to get Michelle in trouble, well, Michelle had evidence against her that could hurt her status at school.” I shivered a little bit. “Now, before this, Michelle hadn’t done anything mean to her, so Rachelle was listening to her. Michelle was a fun person for her to hang out with, and an older girl that kind of seemed to be teaching her how to be a teenager, but only, Rachelle is still only fifth grade right now, and when this happened, it was last year, so Rachelle was only in fourth.” “Well?” I shivered at everything. I was peeing in front of the boy, and honestly, I started to like him… a little more. He was almost watching me pee, only his back was turned, and he did make me undo my pants in front of him and show I had panties on before he turned away from me. Now, he was telling why he and Ryan were so worried about Michelle, and it seemed the girl had picked on someone a lot younger than herself. “Rachelle came home after the pool party and went directly to her room. She wouldn’t talk to mom or dad, but Ryan got in there, somehow, and he talked to her.” “Okay…?” I shivered. “But what would she tell Ryan that she didn’t want to tell your parents?” “Michelle told Rachelle to pee herself. She said she had a swimsuit on, so it’s okay. Just do it. All the girls do.” I frowned. “And Rachelle listened to her?” “Eventually. Michelle had changed her swimsuit and had other panties on or something. All the other friends had clean panties to change into, but I don’t even know how she got my sister to be in that situation at all, but she had my sister just put her clothes on over her swimsuit because somehow, Rachelle didn’t have panties with her. She was told to wear her swimsuit under her clothes so no one would watch her dress.” I frowned. “That sounds like a Michelle trick.” “Well, the girls all decided to go down the road to get ice cream, and of course they took Rachelle alone. Eventually, after eating their ice cream at the park and I’m not sure how much Michelle set it up, and how much it was just mother nature that got it so Rachelle eventually had to go, but Michelle told her that her butt was already wet from swimming. The other girls agreed with Michelle, but I think… it’s because she scared them into agreeing. Anyway, Michelle eventually convinced Rachelle to pee her pants fully at the park.” I frowned. “That was mean.” “What’s worse, is Michelle and the others convinced Rachelle that it still looked like she was just wearing a wet swimming suit and made her walk all the way back to her house and when mom and dad picked her up, All us brothers were with them because we were getting ready to eat dinner out, but as soon as I saw her, I could tell she peed.” I felt tears in my eyes. “She peed her pants.” That’s what Rachelled told dad. “She just sat there, the bathroom not more than a few feet a way, and she just peed. Maybe she was scared.” “Dad and mom had to take us home, and mom wanted to talk to her about why she’d do that, but I’m pretty sure Michelle threatened her if she told her Michelle had anything to do with it… well, Rachelle wouldn’t tell anyone until Ryan eventually got her to talk.” I sniffled. “Ryan thinks Michelle told you something yesterday, and that’s why he’s convinced you are scared enough to try to lie to us and why he made me take you into the bathroom. He told me he was going to make me take you.” I sniffled as I stood up and pulled my pants up. “I understand.” “So, I’m sorry,” he turned to look at me as I was fixing my pants and shirt. “I have to check you to see if you started to pee so we can make sure you don’t go to class even a little wet, and we need to take you to the toilet, but not only that, but to all your classes today so Michelle’s goons don’t get a chance to hurt you.” “I… and you have to take me inside the toilet?” “I don’t want you to be wet when you go to your next classes, Pearl. I know you’re scared, and I’m worried so I do have to make sure your panties aren’t wet.” He hugged me. “Is it okay if we protect you?” “I guess so.” It was more than alright though. Most of the time, when I was at school, honestly, even when I had diapers on, I was always scared of going into the bathroom. It was part of the reasons I peed my pants in class. I would try to go if I didn’t think Michelle or other people that scared me were in there, but if I wasn’t sure, or if I knew they were, especially, then I would just go to class and try to hold it. The three of us walked right by Michelle who was waiting outside the PE class door for me. They took me directly into the gym and right up to the girls’ changing room door. As I was started to dress out in the locker room and it didn’t look like anyone was watching me, I wondered about this pantsing thing. Of course, I trusted Shane and if Shane trusted his brother, then I expected they had good intentions, especially if Michelle did all that to their sister. But I wondered…. Why would Ryan know if they were planning to pants me? -- After we were all done with our warmups, we started to leave the gym and move the lesson outside onto a football field. The teachers had a frisbee out there and we all stood in a circle while the rules were explained. This was like football, but with a frisbee. Once you catch the frisbee, you can’t move more than three steps and have to throw it. As we started towards our own ends of the field, a couple of boys came up along side me. “You better not touch the frisbee. If you do, you will be taken out. That’s a promise.” They were supposed to be on my team. I did what I could to say out of the advantage of being passed to by putting myself near the other team, or being too far back to make any real gain by being passed to. It seemed to go pretty well for most of the game. “Michelle!” Mrs. Jensen was yelling at me because I was out of position. I looked over at her and shrugged as she pointed me to a better place, but I tried to run as slow as I could so I wouldn’t be in the way of getting the ball. Even if Mrs. Jensen didn’t like that I was running too slow, she couldn’t say I didn’t dress for PE, soI found myself in the locker room again. “She’s wearing a diaper,” I heard another kid say. “Who?” “That girl that was running funny. That’s why she was so slow.” I just minded my own business and started to dress out. Anyone that snuck a peek at me could see I was clearly in panties and not a diaper. I didn’t wait for Shane and Ryan after PE though because I didn’t want to be late, and even if we went to the secret hall, the PE and Science were on opposite ends of the school, and Science was on the second floor. So I settled in Science before I saw Shane sit at his table. I looked over at him and gave him a thumbs up so he know I was okay. He smiled. Science was more of the same from the day before. The stages of the rock cycle seemed pretty stupid to me. Sure, maybe they went through these cycles, but why was it important? Since the rocks didn’t breath or respond to their environment, they weren’t alive. I suppose if you were going to be a geologist or something that looked closely at rocks to try to figure out if something abnormal was happening in nature, maybe it would be important, but that’s not what I was going to do. I was going to do something that actually helped living beings that were alive right now. A boy put a note on my table on his way going to the front to identify three rocks for her. I looked back at the boy to see if he was going to give me a look or any other clues about the note, but when he didn’t, I opened it with a sigh. I hope you’re not wearing a diaper. There are rumors going around that you are. If you aren’t…, well, everyone knows what you do when you need to pee… so I really hope you are not wearing a diaper. I crumpled the note up and shoved it in the desk, my face hot and tears stinging my eyes. I wasn’t wearing one! I looked up at the clock. Nine o’clock. I still had almost twenty minutes of class. I internally tried to push at my bladder, but there was no response back. I didn’t have to go. I wasn’t sure what the note meant, exactly, but I knew that Michelle was hoping to make me get embarrassed. When Shane went up to the front to identify the rocks as pointed out, he also dropped a note on my desk. After class, secret bathrooms, okay? I looked down not wanting to look him in the eye. I wasn’t so sure it was a good idea for two reasons that I needed more time to explain than just a note exchange. At nine-ten, between five and ten minutes left of science, I tried to push at my bladder again, but still, it have no sign that it would respond. I sighed. I hoped Michelle wouldn’t expect it to happen in Science. It rarely did. Before Shane could catch me, I grabbed my bag and left the room going right to Math and disappearing behind the door before he could catchup with me. I had peed as slowly as I could during math class, not drawing attention, not wiggling, not making any sudden movements. I kept my thighs as close together was was comfortable, and watched as each trickle of pee filled the area in the seat between my barely open thighs and the chair before the trickle died again and the pee seemed to disappear as it got absorbed by my jeans. Somehow, I made it through math without anyone calling me out that I was noticed, and right outside the math door, Shane and Ryan flanked me on each side. “Bathroom, now,” Ryan ordered in a harsh whisper. “You didn’t do what we planned. I hope you didn’t get noticed if you are wet. Shane will check you in the bathroom.” I was glad for once that Shane was shy and Ryan was protective as he stood guard outside the bathroom door while Shane inspected me inside the bathroom. “Pearl,” Shane sighed, his cheeks pink as he looked down at my crotch. “You didn’t go before math like we planned, did you?” I shook my head. “And you didn’t go during math.” I shook my head again. Shane groaned. “You leaked, didn’t you?” I nodded. Shane sighed again. “Ryan’s gonna kill me for not making sure you went before math. He’s gonna say it’s my fault.” “I’m sorry,” I whispered. Shane shook his head. “No, no, it’s okay. It’s just…I know Ryan’s gonna be mad, but I don’t want you to feel bad. I just…I just wish you would trust us to help you.” “I do trust you,” I said. Shane looked at me skeptically. “Then why didn’t you let us take you before math?” I bit my lip. “I was scared of being late to class, and then Michelle noticing.” Shane’s expression softened. “Pearl, we’re trying to help you. You have to trust us.” “I do,” I repeated. Shane sighed. “Okay. Well, let’s get you cleaned up. Ryan’s gonna be pissed, but we’ll deal with it. For now, just go sit on the toilet and finish so you don’t fully wet your pants.” I sat down while Shane looked through my stuff I brought and he sighed. “Pull ups, Pearl?” “Darren made me. He said just in case I wanted to wear them if it got too hard today.” “At least you have panties in here, too, and a clean a pair of jeans….” After I was cleaned up, and Shane actually pulled my panties and pants on me as if I was a toddler or something, he hugged me. “I’m sorry things have to be so hard for you, but you’ll see. Ryan and I will take care of you. You just need to be really careful about leaking or others will start calling you worse than they already do.” “Michelle says that if I don’t squirm some in classes, everyone is going to think I’m wearing diapers.” Shane frowned. “That witch…,” he narrowed his eyes at me. “Well, she’s trying to make this harder for you than she ever could do for Rachelle. I’m so glad Rachelle is still in fifth grade. But that seems like another issue Ryan and I are going to have to address.” “You don’t want me to squirm in class?” I asked. “No. Some teachers can think you are playing around, and it’s embarrassing. If you squirm too much, then other kids are going to expect that you are leaking and might start looking in your chair to see if you peed.” I felt my face get hot. “So what do I do now?” “Were you squirming in math?” “I actually just tried really had not to show I had to go.” “But you leaked…. I definitely need to tell Ryan and figure out some kind of damage control.” “I’m not stupid?” “No. You’re just scared and confused. It’s not a good place to be in. I promise, I understand. Last year, I peed my pants twice in class. It was really hard, so I know exactly how you feel about leaking especially afraid of being watched for it.” They took me to Life skills in clean pants the three of us whispering everything so Ryan knew how much Michelle had been doing, with the notes, the intimidation in gym classes, and everything. When they took me to the bathroom after lunch, before the period was over, and before English, Shane sat me on the toilet, and then he started to talk to me about an idea Ryan had. “So, I guess Michelle is trying really hard to make it hard for you to hide wetting unless you wear diapers, but if you wear diapers, then she’s going to expose you….” I frowned and softly whispered, “Yeah.” “Squirming around like she wants you to do will eventually annoy some of the stricter teachers.” “I know….” I started to pee in the toilet. “Well, Ryan says he and I are going to have to come up with an idea for tomorrow so that anyone that checks your chair after math and after sixth period, will think… you are not wearing diapers. But we don’t want you to pee your pants either, unless it’s really an accident.” “Okay.” “For today… Ryan says to just pee your pants in sixth period… if you feel it really strong.” “On purpose?” I asked. “Not exactly. Just if it feels really strong, don’t wiggle too much. The less you wiggle when you leak, the easier we can do damage control on the expected wiggles.” “Aren’t you and Ryan going to take me to the bathroom after fifth period?” Shane gulped. “Well, we just took you now. Honestly, if you wet your pants sixth period after just doing now, you’re physical problem might be worse than you think it is.” “Well, it IS kind of bad, I guess.” “Just don’t pee unless it’s strong, and then if it is, try to quietly do it as little as you can, but let it come out a little bit at a time, kind of like it looks like you did in math.” “Okay.” Chapter Nine Somehow, I made it home without going to the bathroom in my pants the rest of that day, but as I came through the door around four, I felt it pushing so hard, that I suddenly started peeing right in front of Darren as he watched my jeans darken and face start to grow hot and sweaty. “It’s okay, Pearl,” his voice was soft and kind. “Come here, honey.” I walked over, and he hugged me. “Did you wet at school, sweetie?” I nodded. “A little bit, but not fully.” “You changed your pants, didn’t you?” “Yeah. The wet pants and panties are in my bag.” “Good girl. I’m not concerned about an accident, only that you stay as clean as possible when it happens, okay?” I smiled. “I know.” My face still felt really hot though, and I bit my lip out of embarrassment and a little bit scared of making Darren upset that I kept doing it. “Is Michelle still bothering you at school?” he asked. “Not really,” I lied. “I mean, Shane and Ryan are running interference for me, and helping me get to the bathroom without her noticing or being able to judge.” He picked me up and kissed the top of my head. “Good. I’m glad we didn’t put our trust in a bully to tutor you.” “Yeah,” I agreed feeling my face get even more hot and sweaty. “I kind of like him. I wished I didn’t feel like a baby around him, though.” “Does he treat you like one?” “I… I’m not sure, but I don’t think he is trying to.” “Why do you say you aren’t sure?” “Well…. It’s just that especially his brother has rules for me, now. They are trying to help me not wet my pants at school, and when it happens, to not get noticed.” “Are they asking you to wear diapers?” “No…, actually they are trying to keep me from wearing them at school. There are people talking about whether I wear them or not, and Ryan said he heard someone trying to prove it, so he thinks it better I pee in my panties than get caught with a diaper on if the bullies find a way to do it.” “Does he really expect them to do it?” “I don’t know, but Shane said he was glad that Rachelle was still in elementary school this year and away from Michelle.” The warmth of Darren’s hand on my shoulder lingered even after I went to the back room to find some clothes to change into. There was a faint scent of laundry detergent clinging to my sweater where he’d held my shoulders in a concerned supportive stare. The clock in the kitchen seemed to tick too loudly I came back to the living room and sat down in front of the television, this time wearing just a pull up and an undershirt. I felt too overwhelmed by the day than trust myself to get to the toilet right then. Wednesday morning, we met at the school before first period again, only this time, it seemed they had a more intensive plan than just a change of clothes. “Did you bring panties and changes of clothes?” Ryan asked me as soon as we were alone. “Yeah, just like yesterday.” “Well, not exactly like yesterday,” Ryan told me. “You get free breakfast at school?” “Yeah?” “Good you and Shane go get some orange juice, and then meet me in the secret hall.” I looked at Shane who took my hand. “It’s Ryan’s plan. I’ll let him explain it.” When we got to the little secret hallway, this time, we saw Mr. Keansley coming out of one of the faculty rooms. “Kids? Any reason you are back here than where students normally go?” “There’s no rule in there that says we can’t come back here,” Ryan looked up at him. “We’ll leave though if we can’t be back here.” “No, it’s fine,” he nodded approval. “It’s just not usually used by students because it’s so far from your path of travel, no one would risk being late to class by going this way.” “We still have time, don’t we sir?” Shane asked. “You have plenty of time.” He walked away from us and a tight knot in my chest loosened. So, at least Ryan wasn’t wrong that it wasn’t mentioned in the student book, and the principal even seemed to think it was okay for us to be there, though we did get questioned. “Take her in the bathroom,” Ryan told Shane. “Then explain this.” Ryan took out a plastic syringe thing, only it didn’t have a needle in it. Shane frowned. “I thought you were going to tell her that part. I’m not so sure I can really tell her right.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “Well, I’m not sure it’s the best way to protect her from the bullying.” “So, you want her pantsed or worse?” “No, but I told you last night, this was a terrible idea.” Ryan frowned. “I’m going to have to go in there with you two if I explain it.” Shane shrugged. I held my hand out. “Um… Shane?” His face was red and he looked into my shiny wet amber eyes. “Yeah?” “I want to trust you, but you don’t really expect me to let your little brother to… um see… um be in there with me, do you?” He frowned. “I… I can just pee my pants today.” “No,” Ryan and Shane said together. “No,” Shane said again more softly looking at Ryan and then me. “I’ll… I’ll explain Ryan’s plan, but I’m against it.” Shane pushed me into the bathroom, and he squatted down next to me. The plastic syringe held out to me. “Drink the orange juice, but just down so there is that much left,” he marked the line with his finger. “Why?” “You’ll see. After you drink the orange juice down, go sit on the toilet while I get the container ready. It was one of those small bottles of juice with a plastic cap that kept it from spilling. I walked over and dropping my pants, sat on the toilet while he busied himself at the sink after I had drank down most of the orange juice. He was running water at the sink and I think he put the container in the water, but it still had a little orange juice in it, I thought. “Michelle is going to do try to embarrass you as much as she can, but Ryan thinks we can outsmart her. She thinks she can make you fully pee your pants in front of everyone, or make them think you are wearing diapers even if you aren’t. But there is a middle ground she may not have thought about.” I felt pee push into the toilet. “So, what Ryan is thinking, if you are okay with it, is to make it look like you are a little damp off and on all day, but no real pee going in your pants, and we take you to the bathroom after every class.” “How would you keep me wet all day if you are not having me pee my pants?” “That’s where the syringe comes in and the orange juice….” I looked up at him. “Now, this isn’t my idea, and I don’t really think it’s really a solution, but if we keep Michelle happy by keeping your pants just damp enough that anyone that checks your seat in class thinks you leaked, but we don’t actually let you pee your pants, then no one will really know that isn’t already being manipulated by Michelle.” “Michelle will still think I’m peeing?” I asked. Shane sighed. “Yeah. She’ll think you are wetting, and anyone she has checking your seat for it that reports to her that it looks like you peed in your chair, but no one else will really see anything.” “I’d still have to wear wet clothes?” “That’s the trick,” Shane whispered. “You’d just put enough liquid in your chair near the end of class that it looks like you wet, but since you aren’t really peeing, there is no chance of you actually wetting so bad that anyone not looking for it will think you are wet.” “How am I going to hide that I have this thing with me? I don’t want anyone to think I’m doing drugs or something.” “You just leave it in your front pocket. Part of our bathroom routine, is we refill the syringe in the bathroom while you try to pee with the orange-juice-water, but near the end of classes, you just push the water out in your pocket so it wets your pants a little bit and gets your chair wet, inside your pocket.” “I don’t know….” “Ryan actually convinced me and even Rachelle to test it out last night.” “Ew! You two watched your sister?” “No,” Shane’s face got red hot. “We just had her put the thing in her pocket and then while she was sitting, she pushed the water out under her. It was not that easy to see on her pants, but the seat was just wet enough someone could think she was leaking.” “You said he made you do it, too?” “Well, actually, I insisted I try it before he asked Rachelle to try, and so I could see how you’d feel.” “I’m not doing it during PE.” “I don’t see a point in doing it during PE anyway. It’s your first class and you never have to pee then, and there isn’t really a chair to sit in PE unless you act like you peed a little on the floor while sitting, but since you only sit the first part of class to do warm ups, that’s not the point. The point is for Michelle’s friends to find wet seats at the end of classes so they think you are peeing without thinking you have diapers on.” “If I do it all the time though, won’t it seem like it’s better if I wear diapers to school?” “That’s why it’s important it only looks like enough like you leaking not fully peeing. So people will think you are just holding it and getting to the bathroom before you actually wet yourself.” I pushed a little more and the rest of the pee went into the toilet. “Ryan suggested we have you sit on the toilet and pull your pants up so you can see what it feels like right now, so you know if you are okay doing it.” “Won’t it look like I leaked before school?” “Only if someone is so disgusting as to try to check your pants by directly putting their hands between your legs. I don’t think even Michelle can get anyone to do that.” “She’s got Ryan paranoid enough to ask me to do this though?” She shrugged. “Yeah. But no one is touching you to see if it’s pee.” “It’s going to be wet enough to leak in the chair?” I frowned. “That’s the idea, otherwise the trick won’t work, so she’ll leave you alone.” “I don’t like it. Darren has started to checking my pants. If he thinks I’m wearing wet in pants or panties at school, he might want me to wear diapers again. And he tells me not to hold it or to wear wet pants too long, so what if he sees yellow-orange in my panties and gets worried I’m peeing by holding it too long?” “We can dilute it a little more if you want with water.” “Might be better,” I agreed. “But isn’t there a way to not have to be wet at all?” “Are you able to not pee your pants for the rest of the year?” Shane asked me. “Probably not.” “Then it’s better is they think you are leaking. At least that way, they won’t think you are fully peeing your pants, and when we change you, since you’ll have a little wetness on your pants shortly after, no one will even think you are changing your pants, so they will assume you are just leaking.” “I thought you didn’t like this plan.” “I mean, I’d rather you stayed dry and we watch you closer so no one causes you problems and so you don’t wet your pants at all, but I don’t think that’s going to happen, is it?” “No…,” I pouted. “I just… do it sometimes.” “So, maybe Ryan’s plan is best. No one will see you in a diaper this way as long as we don’t let you wear one, and you can leak a little bit, but try not to squirm when you do, which is why spilling water in your pocket seems a good idea, so no one sees you squirm when you leak… and that way, they are not looking to see if you are squirming all the time.” I stood up from the toilet and Shane started to fix my pants and he put the full syringe in my pocket. “Sit down, Pearl. Please. Let me show you. It won’t be that bad.” I sat down and then he started to direct…. “First, aim the opening down at where your pee pee is.” I looked up at him. “And this will look like they want, and no one else will see?” “No one that doesn’t know what they are looking for will see, but yes, those that are trying to catch you peeing, should see what should make Michelled happy. Did you aim it?” “Yeah, but I don’t know about this.” “It’s not my favorite plan either, but right now, it’s all we have. I mean, you can just decide to pee in class, or you can try to hold it every time until you get to the toilet, but if you do that, what is Michelle going to do to make things harder?” “Do you know?” I asked Shane. “No. I don’t know. I wish there was a way to get them to just leave you alone.” “Yeah….” The syringe felt heavy in my pocket, its weight pressing against my thigh with every step down the hallway. Shane walked slightly ahead, his shoulders hunched in that way they always were when he was anxious. The scent of antiseptic from the newly cleaned floors mixed with the faint citrus smell leaking from my pocket, orange juice and plastic, a combination that made my stomach twist. Shane had insisted on walking me all the way to my first period, PE, even though his class was on the other side of school, and upstairs, Math. “Michelle was waiting outside of PE yesterday when I came to class.” “Does she have PE with you?” “No. She just came to tell me something. I was just letting you know, she might be outside the doors today, too.” “You have the syringe tucked inside your pants, right?” “Yeah.” The gym doors loomed ahead, their dull gray frames scuffed from years of sneakers and backpacks. My fingers twitched toward the syringe again, checking it was still there, still hidden. The fabric of my jeans was already too tight against my skin, making every movement feel stiff, like I was walking in borrowed clothes. Shane slowed his pace as we neared the doors, his eyes darting ahead, scanning for Michelle’s familiar smirk, her sharp elbows, the way she always seemed to materialize right when you didn’t want her to. Michelle wasn’t there, and I got into the locker room and saw another note on my locker. I knew it was just something mean, so I just pocketed it, and started to open the locker door to change. The syringe was still full, and without anyone around to watch, there was no reason to push the liquid out. “You just push the liquid out if you feel like they think you should be squirming, but you don’t squirm. This will get them used to the fact you don’t squirm when you pee your pants, so they don’t expect it.” That’s what Ryan had insisted just before he left Shane to take me to PE class. We got out into the gym, and I had an okay period. No one bothered me, and soon, I was on my way to meet the brothers in the secret faculty bathroom for my hourly pants checks. Shane was waiting outside the gym doors when I came out, which meant he either left class early, something he really shouldn't do given his poor math skills, or he had to have run all the way there. Eitherway, he was breathing a little heavy as he grabbed my arm, pulling me toward the faculty bathroom, moving quickly, head down. I let him pull me along, both of us weaving past students who didn’t notice us, or didn’t care enough to stop us. The syringe shifted in my pocket, still uncomfortably full. We slipped into the faculty bathroom, Ryan already inside, leaning against the sink with his arms crossed. The air smelled of bleach and the faint metallic tang of old pipes. Ryan nodded at me, then at Shane. "Did you use it?" “No one bothered me, except to leave a note on my locker before I even got in the locker room.” “Let’s see the note, Ryan said as they closed the door. Both brothers were in the bathroom. “You’re not going to make me try to pee in the toilet with Ryan in here?” I looked at both of them. “Right now,” Ryan put a tender hand on my shoulder. “We are just looking at your note. Shane can take care of the pants checking and changing once I know what the note says.” Shane reached out his hand and took the note from me, unfolding it carefully. His fingers trembled slightly, casting shadows under the flickering fluorescent lights. The paper was thin, almost translucent, with jagged edges where it had been torn from a notebook. Ryan leaned in, his breath warm against my temple as he read over Shane’s shoulder. The scent of his shampoo, something minty and sharp, mixed with the lingering citrus from my pocket, making my throat tighten. The note was scrawled in messy blue ink: We know what you're hiding. No one wears pull-ups at 14 unless they're broken. Tick tock, Pearl. Shane’s jaw clenched, his knuckles whitening around the paper. Ryan let out a low noise, something between a scoff and a growl. "Michelle didn’t write this," he muttered. "Too dumb to spell 'toilet' right last week, but suddenly she’s using 'tick tock' like some villain in a bad movie?" Shane crumpled the note, shoving it into his backpack with more force than necessary. His fingers brushed mine as he handed me a fresh pair of panties from his pocket, cotton, plain, the kind Darren bought in bulk. "Change before science," Shane said, voice tight. "Michelle’s in that class. If she’s got someone else writing notes now, they’ll be watching for leaks." “No, don’t change your panties yet,” Ryan corrected Shane. “But do use the toilet. Don’t let them catching you pee for real. You should sit comfortable, and when the time is right, make it look like you are leaking so they get used to you not squirming when you have to go.” Shane sighed. “Ryan, she doesn’t have to go now.” "She still needs to sit on the toilet and make sure. When she pushes the liquid in her pants, we don't want the bullies to see any movement at all, like it just comes out, so they aren't looking for her to be wiggling." Shane hesitated, his blue eyes darting between me and his brother, the fluorescent lights overhead casting shadows under his cheekbones. The bathroom tiles felt cold through my socks as I shifted uncomfortably. Ryan’s insistence hung in the air between us, mingling with the sharp tang of bleach and the faint metallic drip of a faucet. My fingers tightened around the syringe in my pocket, the plastic creaking softly. “Alright, but you promised her that only I will be watching, so leave the bathroom so she can go, then.” Ryan nodded. “Of course. I’ll be waiting outside to take you both up to your class.” Shane walked me to the toilet and helped me pull down my shorts, with a hand on my shoulder as he did. Ryan had left, and Shane whispered to me. “Just sit and relax for a moment. Don’t worry about forcing anything. I know you usually pee in math, right?” “Yeah.” I felt my face get hot. My knees pressed together as I perched on the edge of the toilet seat. The chill of the porcelain chilled my thighs. I didn’t need to go, not yet, but my bladder still throbbed with the phantom pressure of anxiety. Shane hovered near the sink, his arms crossed and eyes fixed on the basin. His shoes squeaked against the damp floor. Chewing on his bottom lip, I knew he was biting back something. I could only sit quietly waiting permission to get up, like a naughty toddler that didn’t know any better than not to wet on the floor, and someone trying to potty train her. “It’s stupid,” Shane muttered as he turned to look at me still perched on the toilet, my tongue licking my lips and my eyes staring through my hair, my face lowered so he couldn’t see my eyes. “All of it.” “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t mean to make trouble for you.” “Not you,” Shane shook his head and in a few giant strides reached the toilet where I was. “Never you, Pearl. I mean the games that Michelle and her friends play.” “You probably would like a different tutor, huh?” The words slipped out before I could stop them, barely audible over the drip of the faucet. Shane turned sharply, his sneakers squeaking again on the tile. His fingers twitched at his sides like he wanted to reach for something, maybe me, maybe the crumpled note still in his backpack. "You think that?" His voice cracked, just once, before he swallowed hard. "I don't want another tutor. I want, " The overhead light buzzed, cutting him off. Shadows pooled under his eyes, darker than usual. My fingers curled around the syringe still hidden in my pocket, the plastic warm from my body heat. The silence stretched between us, thick with everything unsaid, Michelle's notes, Ryan's plans, the way Shane's shoulders hunched like he was carrying something too heavy. Shane exhaled through his nose, slow and deliberate. "You know Rachelle wet her pants at a pool party last summer?" His voice was low, rougher than usual. "Michelle made her drink three sodas, then locked her out of the bathroom. Told everyone Rachelle did it on purpose because she was scared that they'd leave her alone." He scuffed his shoe against the tile, leaving a faint mark. "Ryan found her crying behind the lifeguard stand. Her swimsuit was still dripping." I didn’t move. The porcelain under me felt like ice now, seeping through my skin. Shane’s words hung between us, heavy with the kind of truth that makes your stomach twist. “I’m sorry that happened to your sister. Honest.” “I know,” Shane said. “But I’m just trying to tell you, that’s what Michelle does. She hopes to turn you against your friends, and your friends against you, so you’ll be all alone.” “But if you had a different tutor….” “I wouldn’t get quadratic equations, and I would still be struggling to read without really learning because other people would just tell me the word, not actually teach me to read like you do. You are good at what you do. Your problems, whether caused by Michelle or not, don’t make you a bad tutor. Got it?” He gave me a look like teacher would silence a student. I stared down at my knees, the syringe pressing uncomfortably against my thigh through the fabric of my shorts. The bathroom smelled faintly of bleach and something sour, maybe old mop water. Shane’s sneakers shifted again, the rubber soles squeaking against the damp tile. “Come on, Pearl. Let’s get your pants up so we can get to class. You use the syringe when I tell you to, and don’t move as much as you can before that, so Michelle doesn’t think you are moving, okay?” I smiled up at him. “I trust you.” Shane’s cheeks flushed pink as he helped me stand, his fingers trembling slightly as he tugged my shorts back into place. The elastic waistband snapped softly against my skin. He hesitated before letting go, like he was checking for dampness I knew wasn’t there yet. His breath hitched when his knuckles brushed my hipbone through the fabric. As we got into it, in Science class, I noticed Shane watched Michelle carefully, and he looked at this student and that. We didn’t sit at the same table, but he told me that when he tore a sheet from his notebook, that was the cue to push some of the water from the syringe. “Don’t push it all at once,” both Ryan and Shane had warned on our walk up to Science class. “Try to make it last for three pushes. The more gradual the water comes out, the more it looks like you really peed.” I blushed as I watched the teacher enough not to get in trouble for not paying attention, but also kept an eye on Shane for our secret code. Once I pushed the juice out the first time, I was supposed to watch the clock and try to push it out two more times but within about five minutes of the first time, so it looks like it slowly but without control, comes out.

図 1 Chapter 1-4 We start to see the establishment of the scene, the characters, and the situation. Because I've been so stuck with stories to a point, I decided to see if breaking it up into three chunks will help me finish a second story. So Here is the beginning. The story ends when the group bests Michelle and Scott, makes both Shane and Pearl more assertive in life, and when Shane and Pearl accept that they are more than just friends. Chapter One It was not a normal way to meet someone for sure. I was putting on my nice skirt and checking my hair to make sure I was presentable before I left my room. “Pearl? Do you need a ride?” Darren asked me. Darren was a man that I was put with last year because yeah, foster kid. He was decent though, and he didn’t make me feel bad about too many things that happened in life. “I mean, if you are offering I won’t say no,” I shrugged in my soft appreciative voice I always had used for him when I wanted something since we met. “You are meeting at the public library, right?” “Yes sir.” “Don’t let the boy take you anywhere that isn’t public, and if you go somewhere else, you call me, understand?” “Yes sir.” He insisted we hug a moment before we left the house, like he always did. “I know you’re a big kid and don’t want your friends seeing you hug someone that takes care of you, so we do this at the house before I take you somewhere so you don’t have to be embarrassed.” I nodded. Then we were at the library about ten minutes later. “Three hours, right?” he asked me. “Yes sir. I have to tutor the boy in four subjects, so about forty minutes in each plus twenty minutes break halfway through so we can relax a moment.” “Sounds fair. Now, you know you don’t have to work, right? You don’t need this job.” “I know. But I want to do it.” Sweet Darren had always been a little funny about me doing anything that seemed a little bit like work, but I wanted spending money that I didn’t feel guilty spending. This was my first job at fourteen years old, and it was arranged through the youths and parents at his church for young teens to help other young teens with studies they were having difficulty with. I was soon in front of the library, Darren still waiting, leaning against the building with his arms folded as a boy from my math class walked up with brown hair and blue eyes. He was sort of skinny, and always seemed so quiet both in youth classes at church and at school. “Hey, Shane,” I smiled shyly and gave a small wave. His mother smiled at Darren. “Thank you for letting your daughter tutor him. He’s been having a hard time since starting middle school, so this seems like a really good thing for him, and he says your daughter is the smartest kid in class.” “That’s nice of him to say. She’s had her own struggles, but school thankfully for her, isn’t one of them.” I looked down blushing hoping no one would bring up the struggles he was talking about, but they didn’t. As I adjusted my skirt and sat down at the round table, Shane started to get his things out of his bag. “It’s kind of hard thinking of you struggling with anything,” he said in a very shy soft whisper too quiet for a boy. “You have like straight As in everything, don’t you?” “Not exactly,” I whispered. “PE, sometimes doesn’t go well, and in lifeskills, people kind of make fun of things I don’t know.” Shane shook his head. “I can’t imagine that, but since you are here to tutor me, let’s look at the things you are good at. Can we start with math?” “Sure.” His hand brushed mine, his pale skin quite white compared to my golden arm. “Your dad is… well…, white. And you are…,” he seemed stuck on how to finish that sentence. “I’m not?” I asked helping him out. “Yeah, I’m a foster kid. But Darren is really nice. I like it at that place.” “Do you have a foster mother, too?” “Well, that’s how it usually works, but this time, I just have Darren. That’s kind of what he meant that I’ve had my struggles. He doesn’t care about if I get in a little trouble at PE or if I need extra help in lifeskills. He said it’s his job to teach me lifeskills anyway, not the school’s.” “I’m glad you have a decent person taking care of you. I heard people can be mean when you aren’t their real kid.” I sighed. “Yeah. They can be.” We looked at a math problem for a moment which I thought had closed the discussion. “So you know how to find the factors of the square and factor a quadratic equation, right?” He frowned. “I understand the concept.” “Show me. Try this one.” And I wrote out Xsquared + 3X +2. As he worked on figuring out what the answer was, I watched how fast the answer came to him, and how he went about looking at it. Then I had him try Xsquared +11X +30. “So, is there a point to doing these problems not on the homework?” he asked. “I’m trying to figure out where you are, and how easy it is for you to come to the answer because the ones we are doing for class right now are really the same thing, but you have to think with an extra dimension.” “okay.” He seemed to bite his lip, but came to the right factors (X+5)(X+6). “Okay, last testing problem before I help you understand how what we are doing is the same was what you already know. Xsquared -X -30.” “Okay…,” Shane put his pencil on his chin and started tapping. “Well, there will be something like this….” And he wrote (X+ )(X- ). “That’s right…,” I encouraged. “Excuse me, can I go to the bathroom?” Shane asked. “I know it’s hard,” I encouraged. “But you can do this. It’s not that hard. Just work through this one with me, and then you can go, okay?” He had a tight lipped smile, but he nodded. “Alright. Fine.” I probably should have let him go right away, because my own expectations were going to bite me in a way I didn’t expect. I asked him, “what ways can you make thirty by multiplying two numbers?” “I know that part,” he scratched his head embarrassed and frustrated. “Well, you still need to pair them for me. I can’t see your thoughts unless you show me.” “Fine,” he started to bounce a leg. I figured he was a boy and he just said something, so he could probably wait a little longer. We were the same age, weren’t we?” “Okay, now look at the pairs, and think, if I subtract them, how can I get 1? (X+6)(X-5) he wrote. “Well, yes, but if you add +6 and Subtract 5, you get exactly one. You want to get minus one. So…?” He quickly corrected the order. “Look, I need to go,” he said his face red. “I mean… unless you are trying to make me….” I felt my own face blush and I looked away. “No, of course not. Go.” He hurried off. While he was gone, I looked over at his first problem of his homework, 4X+4X+1. Sat down and I was glad to see his tan pants were completely dry. I really didn’t want to make him do something like that, I just thought he was a boy and people always said boys are stronger, plus we are the same age, and I can a few minutes, anyway. “Okay, so this problem isn’t too much harder than what you already know how to do,” I explained. “Since the last number is a one, you still only have to worry about the factor of one total, or in this case, we only have to think four, and how to get it.” “Okay, so 4 and 1 and then 2 and 2.” “Right…,” I saw his hand to the back of his neck. “Don’t worry, you’ve got this. This one is just like you did with the other one. But let’s think… of the last number is just one. Actually, let’s try something here.” “What’s that?” “What if we had 4 + 4X + Xsquared? What would you do?” “Rewrite it so the Xsquared is first?” “Fair, but let’s work it as it is. Just do the same steps, but reverse where the Xsquared goes and the single whole number.” “Sure.” I wrote donw ( +X)( +X). “Do you see?” I showed him. “What numbers make 4 when you multiply and you add as well?” He wrote (2+X)(2+X) “Good. That’s all there is to it. Now, when we have an X by itself, it doesn’t mean 2X, right?” “No,” he breathed. “Just one.” “So let’s move the X in front of the two and because there is only 1 of something, just write one, where X was.” (2X+1)(2X+1), he wrote. “And multiply it out and see if it’s the same?” He did. “So, that’s trick number one. If you have 1Xsquared, or you have some numberXsquared plus one, It can be looked at the same, except the number goes in front of the X if the Xsquared has a number in front of it. Now the tricky part….” We ended up working on math more than I expected, and still wasn’t sure he got it yet, but at least he did understand the principle that if either side only has a one, then at least he only had to worry about factoring one number. When I looked at the clock, we had spent nearly half our time already. “We spent way too long on math,” I warned him. “If we are going to get through the other three subects, we are going to have to just do 30 minutes on each, and not take a break.” He shrugged. “I’m good.” “Okay, what is next, then?” “Reading,” he sighed. “Honestly, Reading and Math are the main reasons anything else is too hard. If I could just read, I sort of understand the science and the history. I actually like history.” “If Reading is your hardest one, let’s do History, then, first. If we spend time on the reading the history, then you can easily answer the questions at home, but if we spend it all on reading, you’ll get your reading done, but you won’t get your best subject done. That doesn’t make any sense to me.” He smiled. “Okay. But I’ll need you for every part for this. I don’t write too good because I don’t read too good.” “I get it,” I smiled. “So, do you now what happened December 7, 1941?” I asked Shane. “That was Pearl Harbor,” He nodded. “Yes, so what happened around Pearl Harbor?” “Well, the Japanese had surprised America with a bunch of ships and planes that dropped bombs on Pearl Harbor and sank a bunch of our own ships.” “Well, can you start reading at the top of page 41?” “Okay. But I don’t read too good.” “I know. That’s why I’m here. So…. Just start. No judgment here. Trust me, there are a lot of foster kids that don’t read at all.” “You do….” “Yeah, well, I’ve been kind of lucky. But those kids in the foster system that don’t do well at school don’t get as much help as they need. We are here for you, though, so enough about the system. Please start.” He wasn’t wrong. He read most of the four letter words fine, but when he came to words longer than five words, I had to nearly tell him what the words said. “You’re kind of shaking,” Shane told me. “I know you have to pee, but if you are going to make all that noise, maybe we should just call it for now.” I sighed. “We are barely into doing your history homework, and you still have your Science and your Reading, right? Are you going to interrupt the whole time? You told me to wait, so I’m waiting.” He sighed and shook his head. “Whatever.” There was a blush in his cheeks. He wasn’t wrong though. There was a constant pressure, there, but I couldn’t just go when I told him to wait for one thing. To him, since we were just starting to read, this reading section would be just one thing. I’d just have to fight through it, then I argue that I held it as long as I asked him to. “Infamy?” he looked at me when we read that part. “You know what famous means, right?” I asked. “Kind of. It’s like when everyone knows you and thinks, I wish I was with that person or I want to be that person?” “Yeah…,” I wasn’t quite sure he got how it was different from other close meanings, but for the reading, it was probably good enough. “So… Infamy,” I frowned and looked up at him. “It’s like everyone will know it, but it means not famous. That means that no one wants to remember it, but they will. It’s really bad.” “So, December the seventh will be the worst day of American History?” Shane asked. “Well, yeah, because it was the day that America was actually reached and attacked by an outside enemy.” “What about the Twin Towers in 2001?” “Yeah. That was a bad day for sure, but at the time, America had not been hit by another country before on our own land. So it made sense at the time. But you know, there are lots of famous singers, right?” “Sure.” “Well, because one is famous doesn’t mean another isn’t.” “True.” “That’s like infamy. Both September the eleventh and December the seventh could be days of infamy for America.” “Oh, okay….” I had to squeeze my legs really tight and hold my hand down at my skirt hoping he wasn’t thinking I was being strange or something. My face heated up a bit, but I just had to go so bad. And we still had a good bit to read before we finished the section. “So, um… read from here,” I showed him his place. I wasn’t sure, but it seemed like part of his problem might have been he needed glasses. But I was sure he wasn’t in the foster program. I wasn’t sure why his parents didn’t take him for glasses or something. As he read about America’s response, my legs bounced a bit more, and my stomach cramped a little. I rubbed my stomach while I looked over his shoulder from the side, trying to help him with a few words here and there. We were almost at the bottom of the section when he stopped me. “I don’t understand. This says battleships, but then it says destroyer. Did they have two kinds of ships in World War II?” “They had several kinds of ships in World War II,” I sighed. “Look. They talked about submarines, ships that can duck under the water to surprise attack battleships, they had battleships which were the largest ships with guns, they had carriers that were the largest ships even larger than the gunships, and then they had destroyers that were smaller but faster ships.” “Oh, right. So it’s not the samething at all then?” “No.” I started to feel it moments before a little went in my panty causing my legs to tense up, my face to contort into a grimace, and my ears to burn. I somehow cut it off, and I hoped nothing was noticed. “No, I believe destroyers were actually used to seek out enemy subs,” I explained to him. “Look, I didn’t know this was going to get into ships at all. That’s not the history lesson,” I felt my breath come a little short as I held back another try at the liquid trying to push through again. “I… I think I really need to go to the bathroom.” “Oh, okay. But I can’t really do anything with you gone, so break time?” I looked at the clock. We only had an hour left, and we still had science and reading to tackle. I really had to pee, but if I gave him a break, I didn’t see how we were going to even get into those things. “Um… no, we can’t take a break right now.” “But you were going to go to the bathroom,” Shane frowned at me. “It’s not like I can do anything if you are in there. You saw how bad my reading is.” “I know,” I sighed. “Come on, we need to finish this part up and answer the questions. We are already behind, and I’m not sure we’ll even finish the homework in time.” I looked up at him with my mouth tight, my eyes nearly closed in concentration, my ears burning, my body shaking, and my thoughts scattering and screaming at me that I was being stupid and I was going to piss myself if I didn’t go now. I looked into Shane’s eyes, though, he wasn’t even looking down at my squirming hands trying to pull at my skirt for decency or rather, to hide the little bit of pee that I knew was already on the chair. No, he was looking into my eyes. “You’re not going to get in trouble if you don’t make it, are you?” he asked me. “Look. I know you don’t like reading, but we are not going to use me as an excuse not to study.” “I… I didn’t mean to do that,” His eyes looked down and to the side. “I just don’t want your dad to hit you if you… you know?” “I… he won’t hit me.” He nodded. “Okay. Well, I guess let’s look at the questions then, if you are sure you won’t get hit if… if it happens.” “I won’t get hit, I promise,” and I smiled up at him but it still felt like a grimace even to me because I was trying so hard not to wet my pants. Darren didn’t worry me. What everyone in the library thought at the moment it could happen worried me a lot more than what Darren would even say to me. “If it’s really that uncomfortable, I won’t tell anyone at school… you know, if you just want to do it so you are more comfortable. We’re going to be here another hour, and I doubt you can wait that long.” I felt my face get really hot. “I… I could just go to the toilet?” “Yeah,” he sighed. “But then I’d have to tell mom and dad that you knew we weren’t going to finish, but you took a break anyway.” His parents were the ones paying me. I looked down. “But if I just pee my pants?” He shrugged. “You were working. There wouldn’t be anything to tell them other than you helped me understand the math today, at least a little better.” I sighed, pushing myself to look up into his eyes, which did look kind of soft, not like they were telling me what to do. “Let’s just see if we can answer these questions, then. So….” We spent another ten minutes talking back and fourth about what the section was about, and me reading the questions to him, but still making him write the answers. He wrote so slowly. I felt another little bit drizzle into my panty. I stiffened again, like before. My hand held my skirt tail tight. I glanced around but the library seemed to not really notice me. I shook. “Pearl?” Shane called me a couple of times until I focused on him. “We can stop if you need.” “No. Go on, I’m watching. Just try to write your best.” A little more drizzled again as I stiffened more. “Are you sure? You’re definitely not going to make it, so either go to the toilet now, or pee your pants. Your moving around isn’t helping me.” “But…. If I can’t get to everything? Is your mom going to ask?” “Probably,” Shane sighed. “I mean, but if you can’t help it, and I mean, you really are not taking a break. But moving around is just making me too nervous to remember what I’m writing.” “Come on, please? You were writing about the famous ships that were sunk in Pearl Harbor.” I felt a little more come out, and I saw him look at me. At the same time, I felt the pee leak into the chair enough to make a puddle, and my panties felt soggy. “Will you try to concentrate if I promise to just pee?” I asked. “I can’t if you aren’t here,” Shane shook his head. “I know. I meant, if I just pee my pants, can you try to concentrate?” “Yeah. As long as you can keep talking and help me.” I nodded and tried to push a little, but it didn’t want to be forced. So it stayed in tight. “Shane,” I frowned. “Think about it. How do you spell Arizona? Come on, erase, and think about the word with me. It’s not that hard.” He gave me a look like ‘oh boy,’ but he obeyed me and erased the word. Some warmth spread into my seat and wet my panties under my butt. I was starting to really do it. Pee went into the chair, and then it stopped just before it pushed over the edge. I couldn’t tell if he noticed yet or not. “Ar e?” he asked. “It from Spanish, Shane. In Spanish, the letter I is often pronounced ee.” “Oh,” he looked down. “I was taking French this year.” “Well, some sounds in Spanish is the same as in French, right?” I aksed. “Doesn’t the letter I in French make an ee sound?” “Yeah,” he blushed. I felt it push again, a big gush, and pee spilled over the edge of the front of my seat as I lifted a bit to point out the word in the reading for him. “See? Arizona has the letter I in it.” “Yeah, I see.” I slumped back into my seat as pee gushed and kept gushing until I finally finished in my pants. “You peed?” he whispered. I felt the red in my cheeks deepen as the heat felt more intense and somehow deeper within. “I couldn’t hold it anymore.” “Your dad isn’t going to hit?” “No,” I said looking around at the library, the nearest person at least twenty paces away. “Don’t worry about everyone else,” Shane promised me. “I’ll let you tie my jacket around you if your skirt shows any when you stand up.” “I have a jacket to tie around my waist,” I said in a low whisper that I was sure carried my embarrassing shyness. “Hey, what’s the third question?” Shane asked pointing at the book as though trying to stop me thinking about it. “Come on, no point in not doing what we can now. You are wet, so let’s at least get you paid right for working so hard.” “Okay,” I felt my scratchy throat scrape the worlds as they passed into the air. We got to the Reading and halfway in, when Shane’s mother and Darren walked up on us. “How far did we get?” Shane’s mom asked. “Well, she did her best, actually. It’s just really hard for me to read.” “No excuses. How far did you kids get?” I looked up at Darren. “I… I couldn’t finish.” “Hey, sweetie,” he pulled me into his side as I sat, and he noticed the water in the chair when he did. “Did we have a little problem while studying?” “Um… yeah,” I blushed hard because of Shane’s mom being right there, probably judging me. “We can go, honey,” he started. “Excuse me, I still have to pay her…,” Shane’s mom said. “And I’d like to set up the next time.” I looked up. “You don’t need to pay me.” “What? Why not?” Shane’s mom asked. “Mom, she worked really hard,” Shane said. “You know how slow I am at reading. We couldn’t finish everything because I couldn’t read that fast, but she did help me start to understand how the quadratic thing works in math. We just didn’t really get past one side or the other being one.” “I’m not sure what that means,” the woman frowned. “But you’re sure she helped you?” “Yeah. It’s just that we only really had time to finish two of the subjects and half of the third one. I told you, math needs like an hour and a half on its own, and well, reading needs its own hour, thus we only finished two and a half subjects.” The lady with really dark hair, but brown, pulled out her pocketbook from her purse. “Well, I suppose we could maybe let her tutor Shane again tomorrow?” she asked. I looked down. “Well, we didn’t finish reading, and he still needed to work on his science, but…. It was kind of hard.” “Are you saying you don’t want a job?” she asked. “No. I’m not saying that….” “She’s scared, mom. She wouldn’t admit it, but you know how we read that foster parents sometimes hit their kids?” His mom narrowed her eyes at Darren. “He doesn’t hit me, okay? He knows I peed just now,” I felt my face heat up with both anger and embarrassment. “And he doesn’t really mind.” “Excuse me,” Darren put a hand on my shoulder. “I need to get my kid to the car. I told you earlier that she has her own issues. And Shane is right, a lot of foster parents do hit their foster charges. It makes me sick, and their treatment of her has… well, caused a lot of problems we’ve been working on for a little while.” I hadn’t realized, but Darren had picked me up and was carrying me out of the library while he was still talking. Shane’s mom was still walking along side us. “I mean, if I realized she pees herself, we could have set it up to do at your place or something….” “Mr. Darren tried with me, remember? You didn’t like me being at someone’s house you didn’t know.” She sighed as she pulled money out of her pocketbook. “Well, here is what I owe her for today. Call me if we can set up for him to come to your house tomorrow. It should only be another hour and a half at most, right? Thirty minutes for reading and an hour for Science?” “Yeah, I think that would work, Mom, though I could really use some more math help to finish my homework for Monday.” Shane patted my back. “I really would love for you to teach me some more, if you wouldn’t mind?” I just kept my head in Darren’s chest, not wanting to look at anyone else. He was my safe place. Darren's heartbeat thudded steady against my ear as he carried me through the automatic doors, the sharp afternoon sunlight hitting my damp skirt in a way that made me squirm. Shane's mom hesitated near the curb, clutching her purse with white-knuckled fingers. "Are you sure, " she started, but Darren just shook his head and adjusted his grip on me. "Pearl needs dry clothes and a quiet minute. We'll talk about it, later." His voice left no room for argument. Chapter Two Minutes later, we were at home with Darren carrying me into the house, not even caring, I noticed from when he picked me up earlier and was now leaning over me to pick me up from the car, that he didn’t even care I had wet on his shirt when he helped me earlier. I wasn’t that surprised though. “Why don’t we let you go take a bath, sweetie and then we’ll talk about whether this is a good job for you.” “But Darren, please,” I whispered in his ear. “I liked trying to teach Shane. It’s just kind of hard because he reads really slow.” “Honey, you worked three hours earlier,” he carried me to the bathroom and put down by the toilet. He started running the bath for me. “And now, it seems you need another hour and a half? That’s like another near full day at school, honey. I don’t think that’s an effect way to spend your weekends, plus I really want you going to church on Sunday and that’s another two hours.” “I know.” “Well, let’s get you a bath. I’m not talking about this until you are cleaned up, honey. You know we’ve talked about you holding it like this before.” “I… I know. But I couldn’t take a break. If I took a break, we wouldn’t have even started on the reading, Darren?” “Well, that’s why I’m worried about you working there. Look, if you insist on talking about this right now, then we can, but I have to get you cleaned up, so if you want privacy to clean up, I suggest we put this off until….” “I don’t mind if you help me, Darren. You’re really nice.” “Sweetheart, I know how you feel, but you are fourteen years old. I don’t think it’s very good for me to be cleaning you up like you’re a baby, and I’m pretty sure CPS would agree with that.” “Not even if I feel more comfortable you being in here?” “Sweetheart, I can read a book by the door with the bathroom door closed for you. You know I have no issue with being here for you. I just don’t want you to get it in your head that this is what is natural even in a regular family.” “But…. What if…?” “You know no one can get in the trailer without me knowing it, don’t you? And with me right outside the bathroom door, you do know no one can get in here, don’t you?” “I… I know, but….” Darren sighed. “You’re still scared that I might find something more important to do?” I gulped and nodded. No matter how many times I told the family before, when I came out of the bathroom, the hall was empty, and even if they didn’t do anything that should have scared me, I… I just didn’t like being in any room by myself. “I’ll leave the door open, baby. But you are fourteen. You need to get used to cleaning up on your own, at the very least.” “We could talk about me still tutoring Shane while I’m cleaning up?” “Then I can shut the bathroom door for you?” he asked. I looked down and my lip started to quiver. I felt a heavy pain in my heart. My legs shook. “No, no, it’s okay,” he stopped and put a hand on my back. “I’ll just sit on the toilet, will that be better?” “Please?” I whispered still scared. “Of course, baby. Take as long as you need.” I got in the tub, and I sighed deeply before I turned back to Darren as I started to wipe my arms with the wash rag. “Please? I really need this. I can use the money for things I really need, that I don’t want to tell you about.” “You know, Pearl, I understand that you might have certain girl needs, and you know that the state pays for your care. That’s what the money from foster care is for… is you?” “But, it’s for stuff like food and you know, essentials. Not for other things I don’t want to tell you about.” “I’m pretty sure what you are talking about are exactly what the money is for. Those things are as important as food and clothes to a young woman.” I knitted my brows towards each other. “What are you talking about?” “Well, what are you talking about?” “I can’t tell you,” I told Darren. “Trust me, it’s something you wouldn’t want to talk to someone about giving you money either.” He sighed. “Look. The state money is yours, little lady. If you don’t think I’m giving you enough to take care of your personal needs, then we can definitely adjust how much I’m letting you have each month.” “I… I get plenty of spending money from you, Darren. It’s just prices keep getting higher and there’s things that are not… exactly needed, but I want to get, and I really want to buy it.” “Well, how is that embarrassing to tell me about, sweetie?” I lowered my head, my hair covering the side of my face and the curtain of hair also kept his face partially obscured from my vision for a moment. “I… I wanted to get you something. I mean, not from the state, and not from the money that you give me, but I mean… you know, from me!” “Honey? Why? Don’t you understand that just talking to me and letting me be in your life is all I’d ever ask of you.” I nodded. In a very low whisper. “That’s why, though.” Darren frowned. “Well, I do appreciate the trouble you are going through, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself especially if it’s just for a gift for me, honey.” “But… what if I want to buy other gifts, you know, for friends at school? Gifts and stuff is so expensive recently.” “They are, that is true,” Darren put a hand on my back. “But your true friends don’t need gifts from you, especially if they cause you to be unhealthy and to hurt yourself.” “Well, it was just an accident this time. I… it was sort of my fault.” “I’ve talked to you about peeing your pants before,” Darren looked right over and I could see through the curtain of hair that he was searching for my eyes. “You are fourteen years old, little lady. I will never believe a kid your age does that on purpose for attention.” “That’s… that’s not what I meant by my fault this time.” “Then tell me why you think it’s your fault, sweetheart.” “Well, I started to help Shane with the math. He understood the very basics of what we were doing, and he was happy to work with me, but then, when we started something a little harder, to catch him up where the class is…, he looked scared and he said that can I let him use the toilet.” Darren nodded. “Okay….” “Well, I thought he was just being avoiding, you know, because it’s so hard? So I told him he had to wait for us to finish one little part, so I could make sure he was ready to learn where we were.” “You’re not wrong. Kids do sometimes put off things that are frustrating if they can. The bathroom is often an excuse.” “Well, he really did have to go, so after we finished that part, I let him go. Then he came back and we started working. It took a long time to get him just so he understood part A, but she still doesn’t get it completely. That’s why we need more time for math and we need to finish his reading and his Science.” Darren frowned. “So, you’d basically be working with him for another three hours, if I let you have your way, tomorrow?” “Yeah.” “Well, how was wetting your pants, your fault, child?” “Well, when we saw how much time math took, I said we couldn’t take any breaks. And then we started working on History. While I was working on history with him, maybe halfway in, I kind of had to pee.” Darren frowned as I recalled how it went down. “How long do you think you had Darren wait, maybe ten minutes?” “Oh, he was kind of slow in math, too. Honestly, probably closer to thirty minutes.” “Well, that was not a good idea to make him wait that long. He could have ended up peeing himself, too, and then you’d have his mom mad at you and trying to sue you. Where did you learn it was okay to force someone to wait that long?” “Well, not my last home…,” but Darren cut me off. “I’m sorry. I forgot for a minute who I was asking, baby. Of course you didn’t know any better. That’s what people did to you. It’s wrong though. I don’t ever want to hear of you asking him to wait more than ten minutes again, okay?” I nodded. “Yes sir. But since I told him to wait, and then he told me that it wasn’t really fair I said no breaks, and anyway he can’t read without my help, how was he supposed to work while I was in the bathroom?” “I see his point, but he should have let you go when he realized you were in trouble.” “Well, I didn’t want his mom to get mad that I wasn’t already going to finish, but then I’d be stalling doing the rest, so I… just tutored him so I wouldn’t make her as mad.” “I’m sure Mrs. Bennet wouldn’t have been that mad, honey. She knows he has a hard time with reading and math, and as you found out when she went to take him home, she was more than willing to pay you for more time.” “But I don’t think we would have had time to start his Reading if we had taken the break.” “You said his reading is really bad. Maybe you can let him find a different tutor for the other subjects and just focus on math. Then if she let you, you could break it into two sessions a week, for an hour and a half. Honestly, two or more three hour sessions… you just aren’t ready for that, sweetheart.” “But, I promised the church youth group, Darren. I’d be going back on my word.” “I thought we told the church youth group that you would try, and that we would do a three hours session once a week, on Saturdays. You didn’t let them down. You tried, and you didn’t even cover everything.” “Please. I can do it. It’s just the first time. I promise, it’ll just take some adjusting. I can get it down to three hours for all four subjects, I promise.” Darren frowned at me as I started washing my legs. “Honey, you know I don’t want you holding you pee in like you were doing before you came to stay with me. You had a lot of problems from that and other things your abusive homes did to you.” “I know.” “I’ll tell you what….” He seemed to think as he spoke, so he spoke rather slowly. “I will let you have an hour and a half with Shane tomorrow….” The pause was long. It was eternally long. Then he continued. “…But, you will have to wear a pull up. You are to promise me not to hold it. If holding it so much as comes up, you are to piss in the pull up. Otherwise, you both go to the toilet as soon as you have to go.” “I… um… I can pee my pull up?” I asked. “As long as you don’t hold it, at all. You either immediately head to the toilet or you go in your pants. No trying.” “What if Shane catches me peeing my pants, but it’s not making a puddle?” “Do you honestly think he’ll care if you are getting the floor wet? You saw him today. He didn’t seem to mind that you peed your pants, did he?” “No…,” I hung my head. “But it was still embarrassing for him to watch me pee my pants.” “I should hope it was, Pearl. I’m not telling you not to hold it to get you to wet your pants. You do understand, my real goal is for you to go take care of yourself, and not hold it or let it go in your pants, don’t you?” “Oh. I wasn’t sure because you told me I should wear a pull up.” “Pearl…,” Darren shook his head and frowned. “The purpose of the pull up isn’t for you to wet your pants on purpose. It’s to keep people from staring at you because I don’t want you holding it, and so if you decide you are not going to the toilet because we disagree on what is more important, at least no one else will notice you peeing your pants. It’s a just in case thing, not a wet your pants thing as something I’m telling you to do.” I looked down. “Sorry.” “Sweetheart. You are so confused, still. That’s the real reason I don’t like you working yet. You don’t even understand how to take care of yourself so you know how to take care of your own rights and health.” “You said I was allowed to pee my pants,” I whispered. “And you are allowed, honey. But I would think a kid your age would take that as permission so you aren’t scared when you wake up from wetting the bed, or if something actually prevents you getting to the toilet in time, so you aren’t scared. I had hoped it wasn’t something you’d think to use keep some bad ideas that have been drilled into you.” “So…, I’m not allowed to see Shane and help him?” Darren shook his head and walked over and started to wash my back. “No, I’m not going to prevent you seeing Shane. You can help him if you want, but I don’t want you working with him more than an hour and a half at a time and maybe twice a week.” “Do you think his mom will agree?” “If they want your help, they will have to agree because I’m not budging from that. Shane’s mom’s priorities are different from my own. We are prioritizing what our own child needs. I don’t want you holding it for three hours, and I don’t want you wearing pissy pants for over two hours.” “Okay.” Chapter Three Darren helped me out of the tub and gave me a towel to dry off with, and before long, he had me in the living room relaxing on the floor. I was now doing my own homework while I watched television, and Darren was on the phone with Mrs. Bennett. I was sort of worried she would be mad that I peed my pants in public, but they were talking and it didn’t seem like she was put off by the boundaries that Darren placed on it, though I could hear Darren. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Bennett, but I’m not going to have my daughter sitting in a soaked pull up for over two hours, and she’s not to hold it. If anything makes her scared to use the bathroom, she will pee her pants.” On TV, Jerry, the little brown mouse was lighting a match under Tom, the blue cat’s toe. “We saw how that went, Mrs. Bennett. Four subjects cannot be explained to your son in an hour and a half.” I saw that for Life Skills, we were going to be making cookies the next day at school. Reading the directions wasn’t hard, really, but there were other reasons that I didn’t do well in that class. I hated Life Skills more than I hated any other class, and PE was a close second. “I know your son needs as much help as he can get, but honestly, what it boils down to, is he needs help in math and reading. I don’t think Pearl should be helping him with his Reading homework, but rather spending the time trying show him how to read. Don’t you qualify for any special classes at all for him?” I put the Life Skills homework to the side. It wasn’t hard, at all. It was just reading, but I was hungry, so I went over and stood next to Darren who was still negotiating with Mrs. Bennett. “I’ll permit Pearl to spend no more than an hour on math and then thirty minutes alternatively on Science and History if that’s what you want. But you must outline only one subsection in his book that she will go over. After that, she’s done with that subject, and then… if you really need… I’ll discuss her having another half an hour for helping him with reading in her own way, not with the school Reading.” I looked up at him. Did Darren just give me permission to have two hours instead of an hour and a half? I hugged him but he was still talking. “If we are doing two hour sessions, we do the session at your house or my house from now on. My daughter may or may not pee her pants, on occasion, and if it happens, I want her to be somewhere where there are less people staring at her, and she’ll pack some extra clothes when she goes to your place. If you see she’s wet or if you check on them, and your son has mentioned he knows she’s peed, you make sure she changes. Don’t leave for two hours, even if she pees her pants just in your door.” I smiled. Darren really was making this a very big deal. Of course, I could remember one other woman that would have made it a big deal… only, it would not be for my benefit. “Yes, please have Shane come over tomorrow, then? Say around four? But here is Pearl. If you want her to work two hours, you need to talk about expectations and to adjust your payment schedule.” “Hello? Mrs. Bennet?” “Pearl. I’ll pay you double since you are going to work two days.” “But…, Mrs. Bennett, that’s only really one hour extra, not three extra hours.” “That’s fine. If you can help Shane with even just math and reading, and will be worth it, and you’d still be working with him a little bit with Science or History, too.” “I’ll see you tomorrow, and I’ll pay you for what you did today, and then I’ll pay for tomorrow’s work. I was supposed to pay you today, but a lot of things happened so fast, I didn’t get a chance to.” “Yeah. I guess so.” On Sunday morning, I first felt a bright light piercing through my eyelids and flooding my mind with a bright red glow from behind my closed eyes. “Pearl, honey, time to wake up for church. I’ll be in the kitchen waiting for you, honey.” I opened my eyes and saw Darren standing at my doorway, smiling in at me. I couldn’t help but smile at him. The days of when my blankets would be yanked away, of when I’d get a belt to the back, or when I’d have to go to church smelling like I did when I woke up was long behind me. “What time is it?” “It’s seven, just live every other Sunday morning I wake you, sweetie.” “It happened again.” “It’s okay. The doctor said it could take a bit, Pearl. You just got rid of the worst of the infection a few days ago, so we can’t expect you to suddenly have control. More than that, the psychologist says that given the years you’d been hurt emotionally, we can expect you to still have difficulties even after the sickness, remember?” “Yeah. I know. I just… It’s that everyone always expected me to grow up, and I couldn’t fast enough. And I really don’t want to disappoint you.” “I’m not disappointed at all, Pearl. There are a lot of different ways to show you are mature, and you finished all your homework yesterday, didn’t you?” “Yes sir?” “And you are even tutoring a classmate, right? For a few extra dollars of spending money?” “Yeah. Oh, also, Mrs. Bennett said last night she could pay me double, I won’t only be working one hour more than before what she offered.” “And you are feeling guilty?” “Kind of…. What if I need to take a break and use the toilet, and then I’ll be getting paid too much.” Darren sighed. “I’m sure she knows what she’s paying for, but before any real agreements are made for payment, we can talk about your concerns and make sure of your expectations. Maybe after you tutor the boy.” “Okay.” “Go ahead and clean up for church. The bathroom is yours, and if you need, just come and get me. I can take you to clean up if you really need, but you should try on your own.” I reached my arms up, stretching as I sat up, and Darren walked off away from my door. “I’m making breakfast. Don’t take too long.” Darren’s voice carried quietly and peacefully through the little trailer we lived in. It was small, and my bed was simple, but I was really happy here. I didn’t care about a big bed or anything fancy. Pushing the blankets back, I saw the puddle in the bed was still wet enough to have some liquid on the top. My panties were soaked and my sleeping shirt was sticky and wet. I walked into the hall and at the end, peaked around the corner to the kitchen, not really ready to take a bath completely by myself yet. I knew I was supposed to be able to do it, but so many times, either not being allowed, being punished for doing it, being told I did it wrong, being watched by people I didn’t feel comfortable watching, and just everything… flooded me as I walked in front of the bathroom. It was still too soon. What if I messed up and didn’t get clean enough? I needed Darren. “Come around the corner, Pearl. I know you’re there.” “How?” “I don’t hear the shower running, sweetheart.” I blushed as turned and faced him. “It’s still… just… too scary to do on my own,” I frowned. “Your doctors and counselor said it might take a while, honey.” “Aren’t you disappointed that I’ve already been here six months, and I still can’t do everything you tell me to do?” He smiled and waved me over to him. Of course I ran right over into his arms. “You do everything I tell you do,” he whispered. “Even when I don’t use my mouth. You are still finding the responsibility of taking a bath on your overwhelming is all.” I looked down. “Yeah. What’s wrong wrong with me?” “Nothing,” Darren rubbed my back between my shoulders. “You’re still just adjusting, sweetheart. Some kinds of hurt takes longer to heal from, and they say emotional and psychic hurt is a lot harder to pick up from than physical abuse, sometimes.” “But you don’t really believe that, do you?” “Of course I do. Just like I argued with CPS about a then thirteen year old kid wanting to piss her pants for attention. You know, when I first got you? I know it’s hard. That’s why I’m here. I don’t have all the answers, but I am someone willing to listen to what you are feeling, and I have been listening. That’s why I know you are still overwhelmed. When you are ready, you’ll let me know.” I hugged him tighter. “Go sit at the table. The oatmeal is almost done, and then we’ll get you a bath.” I stayed with the car until Darren walked me in to church, holding my hand, almost like I was three years old, but it was safer to stay with Darren. If any of the church teens saw me, well, some of them were nice, but some of them were from school, and they… well, they didn’t understand a fourteen year old girl needing to wear a pull up at church to keep the church seats respectable and a fourteen year old girl being unable to be too far from her… well fosterdad unless it was youth time. Even then, I got really nervous. As Darren paused at the church doors while other people were greeting the pastor and people were visiting, I could see some of the teens starting to talk, and I looked down at the floor. I was supposed to help Shane, but he still didn’t understand yesterday’s math completely, and we barely did much of his other homework, so I was sure they all could see it somehow, that I had failed at something else. “Mom! It’s Pearl!” Michelle, a girl with dark straight hair and blue eyes pointed at me. “I’m going to go say hi.” I looked at the ground, but Darren placed a hand on my shoulder. “All you have to say, is ‘hi.’ Anything else, you can be as natural and slow as you want.” I nodded. “Hey, so um… you drew the short straw, you know.” I blinked up at Michelle. “Hi,” I whispered barely loud enough for anyone to hear. “What was that?” Michelle frowned. “Hey, don’t be scared if you can’t get him to read or do math right. He’s had trouble reading since third grade, and his math… I swear, he only first started to get subtraction in like fifth grade.” “I’m sorry, but we are at church. Do we have to talk about that?” I asked. “What? I’m not being mean,” Michelle frowned and crossed her arms. “Um… you kind of are,” I whispered even softer than I said hi. Michelle shrugged. “Well, anyway, good luck getting him to pass eighth grade. I heard the teachers said that if he fails this time, they really have to hold him back because of the way high school works.” “Well, he might surprise everyone and start getting math a little better this year, and maybe even read a little more, even if it’s still a struggle.” “Are you saying you know how to do what no one else could?” I pulled at Darren’s arm. “Let’s go in,” he whispered to me. I wasn’t sure if he heard Michelle or not, but I didn’t like talking about Shane like he was a failure. I didn’t think he was a failure at all. He just… sort of needed a little help. After the main lesson where we read in the book of Ephesians, and a couple of people were invited to talk about the ways they uplifted brothers in the week, I saw that some of the youth started to stand, to get ready to go to class. “Can I stay with you?” I asked Darren. “I’m sorry, but you do need to get used to being with people your age,” he whispered to me. “Just try. If it gets too hard, you can always slip out and come down. I’m not changing seats, so it will be easy to find me.” “Okay,” I said through a heavy breath. “Hey, you’ve got this, sweetheart. Just stay near the people that are most helpful, okay? And I’m sure Shane will be very happy to see you there because he knows you don’t mind sharing your Bible with him and helping him out when he needs it.” “Yeah. I guess so.” I got up and with a sigh looked around so I could avoid Michelle and her friends because they weren’t exactly the nicest. Somehow, Shane and his mother had snuck up in that time and were right there, and I came eye to eye with Shane. “Hey, would you sit with Shane today?” Mrs. Bennett asked me. “He says you’re the only one that won’t make fun of him because the Sunday school teacher can’t call on him to read.” “Actually, Pearl was sort of worried about who to sit next to, weren’t you, sweetheart?” Darren spoke up for me. “Don’t worry about Scott and his lackeys,” Shane reached out and put a hand on my arm. “They’re just jealous of you because the tutoring presidency wouldn’t let them join as tutors because either they don’t know what they are doing, or because they are too mean to tutor.” I looked down. “Michelle and her group are meaner.” “I thought Michelle was nice to you.” “She’s… sneaky about it. At first, I thought she was nice, and I chose to hang out with her at school. Now, I hang out with her at school because if I don’t, I’m afraid of what she’ll do.” “Well, I know a couple of other kids that need tutoring and feel awkward being in there. If we all sit around you, then neither Scott nor Michelle can sit next to you, right?” “Do the others… really… you know, know about me?” “What?” Shane frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” I looked down my face getting red. “Yes, Shane, there is. I’m not even that uncultured, that I can’t tell that I don’t belong.” He put an arm around me. “At church, everyone belongs. People that act like you don’t, are going to find it harder to talk to God, I mean for real.” I shook my head. “I don’t expect that God likes me getting his house seats wet all the time.” “God’s a spirit,” Shane told me. “Well, he’s more than a spirit, but the point is, he isn’t bothered by physical things because he doesn’t need them. He’s more concerned about your heart. You know…. Even if someone else would have touched my reading problems with a ten foot pole, I consider myself lucky to be tutored by you.” “You do? Didn’t I embarrass you yesterday at the library?” “No. What was embarrassing was how bad I am at math and reading. I mean, the whole reason we spent all that time on math is because I’m the worst at math, and I know my reading is like ten times worse. You… you are kind about it.” “Darren says everyone has their own struggles. He tells me all the time that we only see our own and think we are the worst, but he told me that a lot of people are embarrassed by their weaknesses, so if they can hide them, they do. That’s why we don’t see them.” “Your foster dad seems pretty smart,” Darren frowned. “I used to act up at school and find any excuse not to answer when called on or even try to get in trouble so I didn’t have to be in class. I’d rather be known as a troublemaker than stupid.” “But…, only, you’re not stupid,” I told him. “Sure, you have struggles in reading and math, and in today’s culture, you need those things to make it easy, but you are smart in other ways.” I didn’t realize it, but we were walking as we talked, and more than that, what really surprised me, was that we were holding hands when we went into the youth room. “Well, look what we have here,” A red head boy with too many freckles and green eyes called out. I suppose with the large head he physically had, it may have been hard for him to keep his enormous mouth shut. “Tarzan meets…,” it seemed he had to think a moment before he just said “…dirty wolf girl!” “Scott,” the youth leader, Mr. Kendall said in a tone that sounded like the kind of near shout-whisper you’d use to chastise someone for breaking a taboo. “Go find your parents. We are not going to invite that kind of spirit into the lesson today.” “Whatever,” the thick boy lumbered off with a frown pushing past us, hitting Shane hard in the shoulder, I think as he passed. “Take a seat ladies and gentlemen,” Mr. Kendall smiled at us all. “It’d like to direct your attention to one of the classic stories within Jesus’s life. It was a parable that has probably been told so many times that each of you are probably groaning on the inside as if I just said you were getting homework today.” Eyes were all trained on him for the moment. He always started the lesson with building it up somehow, but this one, it seemed like he wanted us to think we knew the story well, and that it was so well known, it’d be like being assigned to read a book we had read maybe in kindergarten. “There was a man that we you recognized from church, lying on the road outside the mall. Now, this man was bruised, and sitting broken on the curb. His head seemed to be bleeding. What role would you take?” I listened intently as Mr. Kendall taught this story. One of the things he was good at, was bringing the stories to life for us in a way we could connect to them before he referenced the story he got our life story from. He made us connect our life to the lives of those stories in the Bible, and yes, some of them are stories, called parables. That’s what Jesus taught in. “So, imagine you were the youth tutor group leader, not specifically Kate Parks, a kind young woman that sees a struggle and doesn’t let it go unanswered, but actually maybe you, only, you know that man. He is always slowing things down at church, and you were not really his friend. So whatever is in his life, it wasn’t your concern, so you went on into the store with your gaggle of friends to do what you came for….” I closed my legs together and scooted uncomfortably in my seat. I felt more like the beat up man. “Second, an atheist walked by, only he went to our high school. The thing is, he didn’t see any reason to help the man. The man was walking, after all. The man could call someone if he wanted.” I felt my left eyebrow disappear into my hair as I looked up a little stunned at the choice of the second person he chose to pass by this poor beat up person. I shifted even more, and tightened my legs even further, almost straining so that the muscles under my thighs and on the backs of my calves ached in their labors. “And then third, a bearded man from one of those Islamic tribes in the Middle East happened upon him, and he sat by him and gave him water. He asked him how he came to be in this place in his life. And eventually, he helped the man up to take him into the mall to find someone that could call for help for him.” I frowned. I thought all the adults on television were saying that we shouldn’t trust them because they were killers, but other college kids were saying that they were people, too, and they were getting in trouble for defending them. “Now, let me read to you the parable that Jesus told his disciple when Jesus was asked, ‘who is my neighbor?’” We took turns reading from the passage in the Bible, and then Mr. Kendall didn’t tell us anything. He only said “Now, I want you, you, and you to talk about this in a group.” He broke us into groups, not among our friends, but took a person from one side of the room, from the other side of the room, and one from the middle of the room. I sat looking down at the floor, my legs tense, my arms stiff, my heart felt as though it froze on one last beat before something bad was about to happen. The other people he chose for me to sit with were Amanda from high school, and Linda, who was still in fifth grade. Did they hear yet, that I was the kid that messes up the seats in church? “Why do you look so scared?” Amanda asked me. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” “She’s the one my brother says that he goes to school with,” Linda frowned. “The one that pees her pants during lessons.” Amanda gave Linda a small frown. “Well, let’s discuss that, then. Think about it. Do you think Jesus would want you to ignore her, make fun of her, or help her if you saw her in trouble? What if you saw her sitting on the street in soaked pants and crying. Would you leave her like that?” Linda frowned and looked down. “I can’t… I can’t say anything because I… I have no right to judge when I feel like the one that would need help.” Amanda frowned at me, too. “You think you have nothing to offer? Do you know the parable about the grape vineyard owner?” I shrugged, pushing my hands down into my lap. “I know you know it,” Amanda whispered. “You have your own talents, and you are entrusted to use what you have to make it mean something.” Amanda retold the story about how a vineyard master gave one person ten talents, one five talents, and one, only one talent. The one with only one talent had been the only one to come back with more than he was given. “What’s the point of that, and how is it related?” Linda asked as she eyed me cautiously. I shrugged. “The parables are connected,” Amanda smiled at us. “…because they are both talking about Jesus’s ministry and what he would have us do. He doesn’t expect us to get everything perfect a hundred percent of the time. In fact, he asks that we pray to him for help because on our own, we are clueless. We know in our hearts what is true, but explaining that truth isn’t always easy. We need God’s help. However, he gives us all something that we can use.” Linda frowned. “Well, it seems like he gave some of us less to work with than others.” “If you examine the story I just told you though, and knowing he is the divine all knowing father, I’d say he gave the man one talent because he believed in him more, as where he gave the man ten, the one that he figured would need more help.” I narrowed my eyes. “I never heard anyone say anything like that.” “Well, before this year, when was the last time someone you heard try to bring the parables in the Bible to a meaningful story we can connect with today? Doesn’t Mr. Kendall have a talent for helping us see the relevance of the Bible in today’s modern world?” I nodded. That was certainly true, and as I looked at Linda, she looked down and mumbled. “Yeah.” “I don’t feel stronger,” I told Amanda. “I mean, if that’s what you are trying to say. No one would really take a person like me serious.” “Why not?” she put her hands on her hips. “Because what Linda has heard is right. I peed my pants at school… like all the time.” “So? Did you know that being scared and having a harder time is not always a bad thing?” “I have to use the restroom,” I stood up to walk out not wanting to hear anymore. I didn’t know why, but I felt like crying. And as I took a few steps towards the door, I felt the warm sticky flood pouring into my diaper, and I froze breathing heavy and tears running down my face. “Excuse me,” I heard someone behind me before I noticed my arm was taken, and I was guided, not roughly, but with gentle hands back where Darren was sitting. “I think she just peed her pants,” Shane’s voice was soft and concerned. “I didn’t take her here because of that though, but because she seemed like she was panicking and I thought if anyone knew how to calm her, it would be her dad.” “Thank you,” Darren whispered. “You are free to sit with us, if you like. I don’t think you’ll get up to the youth lesson before it ends.” Chapter Four Darren held me in his lap and rocked me until the end of the current lesson. He kept rocking me as some people came over to talk to him. “Still struggling?” a woman asked. “Yeah, she’s still struggling a little bit. I guess she’s had some people say things in youth group, and it got too overwhelming for her. She’ll be okay once she’s had a chance to relax and process it all.” “I’ll pray for you and for her,” the woman said shaking his hand. Shane had a hand on my knee, and he whispered in to me. “It’s not the end of the world. People are just… you know, people. There is always going to be a Scott around looking for faults in you even if you beat one. People like that are just jealous.” I peeked over at him, my face mostly hidden in Darren’s chest. Eventually, the pastor made his way over to us, and he sat down just after Shane’s mom took him promising to take him by our place this afternoon. “Mr. Kendall told me that Pearl had a more stressful day today than in the last month in youth services. Is there anything going on at home?” “No, I don’t think it has to do with that. I think she’s just overwhelmed today.” “You know, my offer still stands. She’s not the only youth in with the primary kids to protect them from the judgment of those that don’t understand them.” “I know you mean well, but I think it’s best for her to learn to work with her peers. Besides, she’s starting to make some friends, aren’t you Pearl?” Darren turned me so I could look at the pastor more directly. Tears still shined in my eyes and my face felt wet. “Shane’s nice.” “One of your other peers told me that you peed on the floor in the youth room?” he asked. “Are you sure you are okay?” “I… I didn’t think it went on the floor,” I looked back at Darren. “I think her classmate might have exaggerated or something. Her skirt doesn’t feel wet at all.” “Alright. Well, if you decide that Primary is a better fit at any time, just come and let the leadership know. We have two high school students in there, actually.” “Pastor? Isn’t Linda a Primary age?” I whispered. “Well, she doesn’t get along well in there, but she’s shown enough maturity to handle being in the youth group, so we moved her there.” “Oh. I was just wondering because she’s younger than everyone.” “Well, I should go talk to some other people. Scott might need to be pulled out of the youth and primary program altogether, though that’s not because of… well, never mind. Just know that next week, he won’t be bothering people in the youth group.” “Can we just go?” I asked Darren. “Honey, I’m staying right here because right now, the door is crowded, and I don’t want to add more pressure for you to be seen or maybe feel the need to talk. We’ll go when the door is less crowded.” “Okay.” Later… We were home by two, and Darren put me in his lap and we watched television after he had changed me into regular panties for a while. By the time Shane came over at four, I was feeling better…. “It’s time to go put a pull up on, honey. He’ll be knocking at any minute.” “Darren?” “Yes, sweetheart?” “I… kind of peed my pants.” “It’s okay. You’ve had a stressful morning, sweetheart. Can you go to the bathroom and clean up?” I looked up at him like, ‘really?’ “Oh, sweetheart. Okay, well, let’s…,” but that’s when there was a knock at the door. “Of course the knock comes now,” Darren frowned. “Why can’t anything be easy for you?” he patted my wet butt. “Sweetheart, just go stand in the hall for a minute. I’ll take care of you after I let Shane in.” As we settled down and Shane opened his math book, I smiled and took out a couple of practice problems I made to make sure he understood that 1xsquared with the end number being some value was the same idea of some valueXsquared and there being a +1 at the end. He did remember, once we did the first problem together. So it went pretty quickly when we built on that, and we were able to stop math ten minutes early to go into reading for forty minutes, and the we continued where we left off for History the night before so he could turn that homework in. While we were working on History, nearly an hour and fifty minutes into the tutoring, Shane looked at me and towards my legs. “What?” “Don’t you want to… you know?” I shrugged. “It’s just ten more minutes. I’m fine.” “Okay, but I thought your stepdad didn’t want you… you know…?” He seemed shy about calling it out. “It’s alright. I’m already ahead of you. Just, look at the next question, please.” Just before we finished the last question, there was a knock at the door and Shane’s mother, father, and a younger brother came in. “That’s Phil,” Darren told me Shane’s dad’s name. “But call him Mr. Bennett when you talk to him.” “Yes sir,” I nodded. Phil stepped forward and shook Darren’s hand. “So it seems that Shane thinks he’s found someone that can teach him how quadratic formulas work.” “Yeah, I’ve been listening to her explain it to him,” Darren told this guy. “She’s actually pretty clever. I don’t remember any teachers explaining it the way she does.” “So, my wife said that we can pay you double for it taking two days. I don’t mind that at all, but do you think she could help a couple of younger kids, with reading?” “That one of the brothers she’d need to help?” “Nah. I always bring him with us when both of us go out because he’s the wild one. We have a girl and a boy at home that could use a little help in reading.” “I don’t know. Surely your wife has already told you the struggles she’s seen, and two days a week working with Shane might be hard enough for her.” “I understand. How has she been adapting at your house?” “Not bad,” Darren frowned. “She still has some issues that come up and we have to work through them, but she’s been happier here lately than I’ve seen her in a long time.” I walked over and sat in Darren’s lap. “Darren? Can I sit here? I….” “Feeling a little nervous?” I nodded. He put a hand around my shoulders. “People still make her nervous. So can I get you all some milk, juice, water, coffee, or tea?” Darren asked. I more sat on Darren’s lap so he’d know my diaper was wet without having to tell everyone I had one on and that I… hadn’t used the toilet, so I wasn’t that upset when he had to move to get drinks for everyone. “Pearl, honey, don’t you want to change out of those stiff clothes? You’re done tutoring for now, so you don’t have to look profession,” Darren gave me a knowing look. “Some of the other people are talking about yours foster kid,” Phil told Darren. “Well, I’m pretty sure sharing gossip about something that’s none of their business isn’t the best way to spend a Sunday,” Darren frowned. “So, are you here to tell me something?” He sighed. “I just wanted you to know that some of the other young people are not exactly playing nice with her. I figured you’d want to know so you don’t send her in among the wolves.” “So…, you’re not here trying to tell me to send her back? I’ve already told the last three people that talked to me about her being a problem at school that it’s not their business who I invite into my home, and that she’s my child now, whether they like it or not.” “God, no, I’m not asking you to send her back. Wherever she had come from, that would be a terrible place to put anyone. I just don’t want you to be blindsided by the teenage drama coming your way because people are… less than supportive of her problems.” Darren sighed. “I’m kind of used to having to explain things to the school when she has trouble there. Apparently, just last month, they got a hold of an old school record that says she fights, and I had to remind them that since she started school there, she hasn’t been in any fights at all.” “Well, I noticed that she hangs out with Michelle Quaile,” this phil said. “Rather, my son, Shane noticed, and he asked me to talk to you about it because he didn’t know how to talk to tell Pearl that she shouldn’t.” “What’s wrong with Michelle?” “Well, my daughter, who is four years younger than these teens to start with, had been invited to Michelle’s house. It took about two months for me to figure out that my own daughter was doing things just so Michelle would like her, but the things she was doing wasn’t nice at all.” “Dad!” Shane moaned. “I told you, Rachelle wasn’t just doing it because she wanted Michelle to like her. Michelle told her that if she didn’t, Michelle would tell the whole school….” My face blushed. “…tell the whole school… what? If she’s four years younger, she’s not even in middle school. Michelle couldn’t affect her, could she?” Shane looked down with tears in his eyes. “Yes, she can. She’s done it ever since Rachelle had declined a birthday sleep over because dad said she couldn’t do it on a school night.” “What did Michelle tell the school that Rachelle does?” “She didn’t just tell, she had pictures of the sheets on her bed. There were pictures of Rachelle’s bed everywhere at school, and I know it was Michelle because she’s the only one that threatened Rachelle.” I didn’t know that Michelle actually did that. Why didn’t you tell me?” “Michelle threatened Rachelle that she’d make it seem worse if her if it got back to her parents that she had anything to do with Rachelle’s school finding out about any of her secrets.” “You realize, Rachelle is in a trap right now because she thinks there is nothing that can be done?” Phil didn’t look too happy. “You should of told us. You know your mother wouldn’t stand for that.” I looked down. “Pearl? Did Michelle tell you that anything bad might happen if I stopped you hanging out with her, and maybe you neglected to tell me she’s doing the same thing to you?” “I… I mean… she doesn’t have me stealing or doing anything that bad,” I whispered. “Does she make you do things at school that you don’t want to do, and is she using any of your personal problems or embarrassing difficulties to control you?” I looked down and felt tears on my face. “Honey, you need to learn to trust me. I know it’s hard, but I can’t help you if you keep things like this to yourself. I understand. You are afraid if she gets in any trouble at all, that it’s going to come back to you. But I’m worried about the kinds of things she’s making you do to yourself in exchange for not making it worse.” “Anyway, just thought you should know. You might want to keep tabs on who her friends are for a while. She’s a little vulnerable to things that kids like Michelle does.” “Yeah, you are right.” “I’m sorry, Pearl, I had to tell. I saw you raise your hand yesterday, and then Michelle whispered something to you, and you put your hand down in class on Thursday. After that, you weren’t looking happy all day.” I shuddered. He was right, I didn’t have a good day on Thursday at all. First, Michelle had been sitting on something since a month ago, and I was even more scared of everyone knowing than that I pee my pants sometimes when I get scared to ask or when I wait too long and can’t hold it. I pooped my pants last month, and I don’t know how I got away with it, but not even Darren knew. I knew I didn’t want him to know about that. “Oh, um… about that. Michelle just said that she found out I stole something at my last school, and she was going to report me to the whole church if I… didn’t do her homework for her.” Shane looked at me for a minute, and I wasn’t sure if it was because I was shaking when I told him, or if it was because Michelle didn’t normally have trouble turning in her homework, or what it was, but I was sure he didn’t believe me. I just looked down. If I wasn’t going to tell Darren I pooped my pants last month, I certainly wasn’t going to tell Shane, even if I did like him, kind of. “Well, this is my brother, Ryan. You’ve probably seen him around at school. He’s a year behind us.” I smiled at this boy that looked a little more blond, but there were definitely things about his face that suggested they were brothers. “Hey, Pearl. I don’t know who this Michelle person is, but if you have any trouble with her again, just point me in the right direction. She’s gotta have a brother or a cousin that I can lay on, that might control her.” “Ryan…,” Shane seemed like he thought Ryan was talking nonsense. “Look, Pearl has enough trouble without you making more. So why don’t you start by just getting to know my friend, first.” “Your friend’s butt is kind of wet,” he pointed between my legs and I felt the back of my butt. He was right. “Ryan! Does that really matter?” “Sure, it does. She probably doesn’t want to play while she feels dirty. We could, you know, wait out in the living room while she cleans up, and then we can all maybe play a game or something.” I started to feel tears in my eyes at first, when he pointed out I peed, only he wasn’t laughing at me. He was telling Shane that I needed to be cleaned up so we could play. “Um…, I… it’s okay. I… I do it all the time. Darren knows I’m wet. He… he’s letting me not change because…. Um… I don’t want to.” Shane whispered something to Ryan and Ryan held up the okay symbol. “Well, do you know how to play pitch?” Ryan asked. “Pitch?” blinked at him not having ever heard of that before. Unless…. “Um… do you mean catch?” “No. It’s not a ball game, but a card game,” Ryan smiled. “I love card games.” “I haven’t heard of it.” “Shane, since she’s teaching you math, why don’t you teach her the card game. We’ll have a dummy hand this time around so you can sit with her and teach her how to bid and stuff. She IS your girlfriend.” “I mean… I don’t think either of us have said anything like that,” Shane told his brother. “Well, whether you two know it or not, you have eyes for each other, and besides, the rumors are already everywhere at school. Some rude people call you Tarzan and the Smelly Wolf.” I looked down. “Maybe we shouldn’t hang out at school.” “What are you talking about?” I asked Michelle. “Well, they are making fun of you because you are talking to me. I’ve never had a friend at school before because….” Shane stared right into my eyes, looking angry, and the way he looked, made me stop. “Pearl. Kids like Scott have been calling me names since at least the third grade. I can care less what apes like him say. You didn’t do anything to get kids to pick on me, and I like hanging out with you. You can’t let people control who you hang out with. When you do, you give them permission to hurt you.” I frowned. “I know, by the way, you know….” “Know what?” I demanded of Shane. “That you pooped your pants two weeks ago,” Ryan was too blunt. “How do you know about…?” Shane gave Ryan a dirty look. “You don’t have to say it like that. I told you, she has trouble in class. It’s like she expects someone to hit her all the time. She didn’t just do it.” “I didn’t say that, did I?” Ryan demanded. “But she should know that you knew because we watched it happen. You may have been right about not going up at that moment because she might have taken it wrong, but she should know that you are not bothered by it.” I felt my face burn and I saw Shane’s face rise a few degrees, too. “Why was it important to tell her at this exact moment?” Shane demanded. “Because she’s scared. Scared you found out she just peed herself and scared you’ll think she’s… not… well, something’s wrong with her. Something you don’t want anything to do with.” “Well, you know darned well, that I told you that it didn’t matter when we saw and slapped you for watching her do it.” “That’s what she needs to know, though, Shane. She needs to know that you care about her feelings!” I… I felt something in my chest pull tight. This guy totally yelled at and slapped his brother, and it wasn’t his brother’s fault. I mean, I thought… no one at school was even around when it happened, but I must have missed them. “You… you really don’t… don’t think I’m a freak for not… um… controlling… that?” I whispered, my face even hotter, and my throat barely working. “Oh, Shane doesn’t not only think you are not a freak,” Ryan was too quick to say things for him. “You’ll forgive him, but Shane doesn’t exactly now how to talk to a girl. He’s… socially awkward. Honestly, Tarzan does fit him.” “Shut up,” Shane said kind of low but not exactly denying that his brother was right. “Don’t call him Tarzan,” I frowned. “ “It’s okay,” Shane put a hand on my back. “Ryan isn’t exactly like Scott. He knows me, and in some ways, he’s not exactly wrong. But he knows how far to go, too. He’s not exactly mean.” “S…,” Ryan started as a joke and got a glare from me before he said the full thing. “Sweet Pearl! You are perfect for my brother, and not because of what the school says. You are the first one in year not to make him feel stupid just because he doesn’t like math or reading.” “Oh, um…,” I blushed and kicked at the floor with my foot. “I mean. We all have trouble with something.” “Except me,” Ryan laughed. “No one can even touch this… oh-oh! You can’t touch this!” Shane laughed, and then I laughed. It was kind of a funny thing to do. “Seriously, though, Pearl,” Ryan whispered. “I know it hurts your feelings, but you should change your pants. Our sister’s doctor told mom and dad not to be harsh with her, and that if she gets scared of peeing, she could get an infection that could kill her. You shouldn’t hold it, and you shouldn’t wear wet pants for too long, right Shane?” “Um… Ryan’s not wrong about that. We honestly don’t mind waiting for you. Neither of us will say anything, even if you need your stepdad to help.” I looked at Ryan trying to carefully gage him, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he went right into the room where the adults were talking. “Mr. Hunt? Pearl’s peed her pants and needs help.” “Um… she’s…,” he seemed flustered. I walked over to Darren, and I looked up at him after taking a deep sigh. “I accidentally peed. Can… can you help?” Phil looked at Darren like he was crazy, but Mrs. Bennet, Karen, smiled. “Your dad will help you, honey. It’s okay. We don’t have to go just because you need help.” “Oh, um… of course we don’t,” Phil frowned and waved at us. “Shane, Ryan, sit in here. The last thing the girl needs is an audience while someone helps her.”

Chapter Nineteen Greinne's Epiphany; Only It's Cait Telling Her Later, after the hospital closed, I think, Greinne and me were eating dinner. Greinne and I talked about earlier. Greinne didn’t say nothing about it, so I don’t think she knew. I saw it, though. Greinne and Erinne had the same problem. They were both peeing more in their pants than before. Erinne was sent home, though. I wasn’t sure what happened to Greinne, but the doctor told her not to move at all. Did the doctor not notice that Erinne peed her pants three times earlier? “What?” Greinne noticed me looking at her. “I see that look, Cait. You are thinking about something, and either you think I weird, or you think I have a thought about something weird.” “Well, um... I noticed something strange this afternoon.” I looked down. I was sort of scared of saying it out loud, but what if something was wrong? “I... I think Erinne peed her pants three times today.” “She did,” Greinne nodded. “So?” “They sent her home, didn’t they?” “Yeah,” Greinne looked a little irritated. “Do... do you think Sorsche had a diaper on? And what about Aoife?” “What are you talking about?” “Well, Sorsche didn’t say nothing about peeing her pants....” I blushed and frowned. “She never does,” Greinne looked at me as though I forgot how quiet Sorsche was. “No. She doesn’t. But no one changed her, and after three times, she should have leaked all over the floor. She wasn’t wet all afternoon, Greinne.” Greinne’s eyebrows got closer together, and she stared at me for a bit. “Were you watching her to see when she’d pee her pants or something?” “Not exactly. I was more watching Erinne after the first time she did, and Sean and Susan had to change her. I accidentally compared her to Sorsche, and that’s why I found it. Sorsche didn’t pee her pants at all today. And then I thought about Aoife, and she didn’t either.” Greinne’s jaw dropped. “So? What are you thinking?” “Just that Erinne wet her pants three times, and she went home, so I don’t understand. She could go if she wanted, and she chose to wet her pants, but Sorsche and Aoife must have had Susan take them?” “...Or, maybe Susan took them out of the room because they accidentally told her, or they did something that Susan knew meant they peed. You know how Sorsche is. She gets nervous and squirms a little bit and put her hands in her lap when she wets her pants.” “I know, and she didn’t do that. I sort of noticed that she seemed, well, happy the whole time, and she wasn’t scared at all.” Greinne shrugged. “Maybe Sean took them to the bathroom all the time, but didn’t ask Erinne because he didn’t want her to think he was treating her like a baby?” I shrugged. “But Sean was here in the room the whole time the doctors let him be. He didn’t have a chance to take Sorsche and Aoife, and Susan did leave with Aoife twice, but not with Sorsche?” “Maybe Sorsche was just scared to pee, and held it until they went home?” Greinne whispered. “Daddy taught her and you to be careful where you pee and not get caught.” I shook my head. “Yeah, I know. But I could never hold it long enough for Daddy, and I don’t think Sorsche did either. Sorsche peed her pants at school sometimes, be member?” Greinne shrugged. “I don’t know, Cait. Why does it matter so much, anyway?” “Well, I was thinking about how you always peeing the bed,” I whispered. “What if... what if you pee the bed because Daddy somehow caused it?” Greinne looked away, and I could see her cheeks get a little red when she turned back. “How do you think Daddy made me wet the bed?” “Well, you stronger than me,” I whispered. “You know Daddy hated me for peeing my pants, and he hated Sorsche. He let Aoife do it, but it was because she was the baby.” Greinne couldn’t argue, so she just looked down. “Okay. But how does that mean Daddy made me?” “Well, if I can’t hold it long enough, and I always give up and pee my pants all the time, but you said yourself, at school, you held it for important classes, right?” “Yeah. I held it. It wasn’t that hard, Cait.” “But what if you wet the bed because you trained your body to not use the bathroom during the day, but it has to do it sometime?” I asked. “That sounds....” But Greinne bit her lip. I saw her half start to roll her eyes though, and I knew that meant the words were stupid to her, but she bit her tongue. She didn’t want to say that to me. “Okay, it does sound stupid,” I agreed with her. “But when did you pee? You didn’t go at school, at least not like natural. You didn’t pee that much at home during the day. So, when did you pee?” Greinne looked at me like she was thinking about it. She looked down at her lap while her eyes seemed to narrow and maybe focus. “Thanks a lot,” she suddenly said to the dark, quiet air. “Now you made me have to pee, and I’m not allowed to go by myself right now.” “The doctor told you to just go, Greinne,” I whispered. “Sean and Susan says it’s allowed to wet your pants, you know.” “It doesn’t mean I want to,” Greinne frowned at me. “Do you think I wanted to when Daddy made me stay in bed all those times, or I’d get in trouble for a puddle that didn’t even exist?” Greinne didn’t have any of the spaghetti in her mouth from dinner, but she was chewing. Maybe she was trying to figure out what I meant. I wasn’t very smart about telling what I wanted to say. Teachers at school said I didn’t say things right sometimes, and people got confused when I talked a lot. I knew I was pretty stupid about saying stuff. “I just mean, it’s okay to wet your pants.” A few moments passed, but to me, it felt like an hour. I could see Greinne still looking at the sheets, her legs stiff, her shoulders shaking, but only so I noticed. You had to really look to see it. “Just do it, Greinne,” I whispered. “The doctor says if you don’t pee when you need to go, you can hurt your body. That’s why I think Daddy caused you to pee the bed. I think he hurt your body without knowing it.” Greinne frowned. “So what about Erinne?” “Well, I think maybe Erinne has been peeing her pants at school and hiding it, and she knew she’d get caught when she peed, so she told Sean and Susan. You saw. She wasn’t happy about peeing her pants.” “Well, how was Sorsche dry, Miss Smarty Pants?” Greinne seemed to be trying to find fault with what I was thinking. I know it seemed weird she dry when she peed her pants always, but I did think on that, too. “What if because Sorsche just peed because it made her babyish to Daddy, and so he didn’t hit her as much, and she peed her pants more at school than she said, so her pee always came out, so she didn’t hurt herself, and now she is safe, she is going to the bathroom like she wants? What if Erinne was scared to go to the bathroom like you and me, so she kept holding it when it was bad, and she can’t help it now?” Greinne frowned. “Do you think Daddy told her not to pee at school?” “Did Daddy tell you not to pee at school?” I asked. “Um... not exactly. He just said to be careful not to miss class, and he always yelled at Sorsche if he thought she missed Math or something because he found out she wasn’t wet when she came home.” “Exactly,” I said, looking down. “You were a big girl and not supposed to wet your pants, so you didn’t, but you followed the same rules. Sorsche was considered too babyish to be able to do it right, so she peed her pants sometimes. I peed my pants sometimes. Aoife was a baby; she peed her pants, but Erinne was never wet when she came home from school.” “So you think Erinne actually didn’t use it at school?” “I am not sure, but you didn’t use it at school. And now, you started peeing on accident more. You can say you are just wetting the bed to yourself if you want, but you know that’s not true. You are peeing without meaning it when you awake. Right?” Greinne breathed heavily through her mouth because she knows she can’t win that argument. She got caught, and she didn’t have an answer for what I said about her. “You always have your eyes open, you know,” Greinne told me. “Even when you should mind your own business.” “You don’t think my sisters is my business?” I asked. “I love you all, and I think we all got hurt by Daddy, even Erinne. We just all got hurt a different way.” Greinne sniffed. “Okay. But you don’t have to be staring at us when we pee.” "I'm not staring," I mumbled. I did notice it maybe more than I should. "I just. I couldn't help it. I knew when Sorsche did it and Aoife, and Erinne told us all three times she peed when she was here earlier, and you... you have to pee sometime, and I kind of started to see you do things when you were holding it." Greinne's fingers tightened around her fork. "Like what?" "You get quiet, like you are right now. I think you peeing and you scared because you peeing. Then you start, your legs are not moving like a pee pee dance, but instead, they stop moving for a long time until you relax. That means you already peed so much you gave up?" Greinne dropped her fork. It clattered against the plastic tray, and her face twisted like she wanted to cry or scream. "That's not—" She stopped, blinking fast. Her hands curled into fists on her blanket. "You're... you're wrong." "You forgot when a boy in my class told the teacher I peed my pants, or was going to that last time Daddy said I disturb class because the teacher sent me to the bathroom? That's why I know everyone gets scared when they think they going to pee. And you do get quiet, and you do relax after you know you can't stop it. You do." I felt my face getting hot, and I felt tears in my eyes. "And that's because I love you, and I see it, and now I know how to keep others seeing it, if I think they going to be mean because when you get stiff, I will be bad so they look at me instead." Grainne's fists loosened, and she stared at me as if she'd never seen me before. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. The hospital room smelled like hard soaps and the faintest hint of peed pants from earlier. "I won't tell anyone that not safe, that you peed, Greinne. I promise. But the doctor and nurses safe. You know they safe? You know?" Greinne didn't answer. She just stared at her lap where the blanket was bunched up between her legs. The IV in her arm trembled when she moved her hand to press against her stomach. "If you gotta poop, it's okay. I promise. I won't tell no one except the nurse that has to clean it up. You can't wear poop all night, and you don't touch your stomach like that when you pee, so...." I let her figure out that she can't deny it. I told her I knew, and that's all that mattered. Greinne's fingers dug into her blanket, her knuckles whitening. "Shut up," she whispered, but it wasn't mean—it was desperate. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped it angrily with the back of her hand. "Just... shut up." "I will, if you promise to stop trying and just poop your pants. I will shut up." I saw her eyebrows get closer and her mouth form an embarrassed frown, the same way she looked two years ago, when her friends caught me in the first grade, peeing my pants in the hallway on the way to the bathroom. “That’s my little sister,” Greinne told her friends. “She can’t help it. Daddy says she’s stupid.” That’s what she said at that time. Now, she just looked at me like I was crazy. I was telling her to poop her pants on purpose, but the doctor told her to do it, first. Didn’t she understand that’s what the doctor said? She sighed and pushed herself forward a tiny bit, her face getting red. The smell started to ooze its way into the room before the little grunt, and then the pit spat of a wet slush sound finally pushed into her diaper beneath her. I pushed the button on the call thing for the nurse, knowing she was ashamed. I wouldn't have to tell. The nurse would check me. I would just be wet, so she'd check Greinne. I would let the nurse clean me up first, though. I was wet, that way, Greinne wouldn't feel all alone in it. Greinne didn't cry, but she stared at the wall, shaking slightly. The nurse came in, smiling warmly. "How are my girls?" she asked, her eyes flicking between us. I smiled at her and looked down at my waist. "We okay for being in a sick place. But. I think I went potty again." I said nothing about Greinne. The nurse would figure it out. The nurse nodded, pulling fresh linens from the cabinet. "That’s perfectly fine, sweetheart. Let’s get you cleaned up first." Her hands were warm as she helped me out of the damp gown, wiping my legs with a cloth that smelled like oranges. Greinne stayed silent, rigid, watching from the corner of her eye. I watched as the nurse cleaned me up, and then when she finished, I drew a breath, ready to tell on Greinne if I had to, but I didn't want to. I hoped the nurse realized the room smelled like one of us pooped, and since I didn't, she'd just know. The nurse hesitated, sniffing slightly, her expression shifting. Her gaze flicked to Greinne—who had gone stiff again—then back to me. "Alright, Cait," she murmured, patting my shoulder. "You're all set." She moved to Greinne's bed, pulling back the blanket carefully, like she didn't want to scare her. "It not your job to tell on her if she has an accident?" I asked when the nurse started to undo Greinne's diaper. The nurse's hands paused, her eyes softening as she glanced at me. "No, sweetheart. It's never anyone's job to tell on someone for something their body needs to do." She turned back to Greinne, speaking quieter now. "You don't have to be embarrassed, honey. This happens to lots of kids—more than you think." I breathed in real slow, knowing Greinne was going to feel the sting of being caught like that. At least it was only one. It wasn’t the nurse’s job to tell. No one else would know, at least about that night, that Greinne had to poop her pants. It was most important that Daddy never found out. If he knew, Greinne wouldn’t be his favorite no more, and he’d hit her harder. I’d be scared of Daddy finding out. And Greinne didn’t know Sean yet, so I knew she was scared because she couldn’t be Sean’s favorite yet, if Sean didn’t really know her yet. The nurse was gentle and careful. She pulled the diaper back slowly as Greinne’s face crumple inward like she wanted to pop out of the room, without any explanation. She wanted to just... disappear. The smell was stronger as the nurse got her diaper pulled back, but she didn’t ask Greinne to explain herself. She didn’t tell her how disgusting it was, like Daddy did. She just wiped her clean. The orange scent from the cloth she used had to be better than the smell of what the nurse started to wrap up to get rid of. Still, Greinne’s hand clenched and unclenched against the mattress and plastic sheets on the mattress. Her breath was fast, and it didn’t come in far enough. It was the same way when she tried not to cry. "It's okay, sweetheart," Nurse Burke smiled at her. "It's not the end of the world. Once the doctor clears it, you can get out of bed again like a big girl. It's not your fault, sweetheart." The nurse wiped Greinne's face after she changed her, and she whispered. "You've had it hard for a while, sweetheart. Just relax. No one around her is going to think anything about you obeying the doctor, okay?" Greinne’s face barely moved, but I could tell she was nodding. It was like she was hiding it, though there was no one to hide her nod from, except me. The nurse turned and threw the diaper out, and took the dirty sheets, humming. The room smelled of hard soap and a faint scent of orange masking completely all of Greinne’s shame. It was like she never did it, but convincing Greinne to not look so scared and worried was another problem. I watched Greinne’s shoulders rise and fall. Her jaw was tight. She wouldn’t look at me. I knew why. She probably thought I had a chance to be mean to her, to tease her, for something that she couldn’t stop. But I knew why she did it, and she only ever did it when Daddy was right there, staring at her, pushing her to do it. So, I had no heart, nor did I have the pressure to tell her something so hurtful. Instead, I just grabbed her hand, and I squeezed. “I love you.” "Now, you understand how much I appreciated you, when you didn't hurt my feelings when I was the one that peed on the bed, even on purpose," I said after I felt she wouldn't hear me wrong. "You were always there for me, and I... I still see you as the older one, the one that knows what to do, and the one to protect me, but just this once, can I help you and it be okay?" Greinne’s fingers pulled a little in mine, but they didn’t escape my hand. They curled around my fingers, eventually. The hospital lights buzzed faintly overhead. Long shadows appeared across Greinne’s face where she still refused to look directly at me. “You’re not supposed to be smart,” Greinne muttered, though the words were softer and seemed to lack that bite that Daddy expected from her when she called me out. "I'm not. You know that, and I know that. Susan and Sean pretend that I’m smart, like it will change the real world if they think it. But we know I not smart. I just care, Greinne. I love you, you know." Greinne exhaled sharply through her nose, her fingers still gripping mine. "You're gonna make me cry, dummy," she whispered. "Then cry," I whispered. "I'm not gonna judge, and no one else is here, so cry. I just telling the truth." Greinne’s grip tightened a little harder than I liked around my fingers. She had a ragged breath that sort of sounded a little like the start of a cry. She pressed her free hand against her mouth, her shoulders shaking up and down. The nurse, just about to step out of the door, glanced back, but she didn’t interrupt. "You always my big sister," I felt a tear of something that wasn't real inside me. It was like my soul was touchable, for just a minute, and it hurt, but I knew what I said was true. And I started to feel myself sob a little bit. Greinne put up with so much because of my being stupid. She protected me so much at school. I had the most important person in the world in the same room in the scariest place in the world, and I couldn't help crying knowing that sometimes, she needed help, too. Greinne’s sob stopped mid-high pitch when she heard me. She turned her head sharply, her wet eyes widened. I think she forgot that I cried, too. As if my tears surprised her more than her own, she couldn’t close her mouth. Her fingers tightened into mine. It almost hurt, but I couldn’t pull away. I had no desire to. "Sisters ... for... forever," I got out between crying hiccups as I squeezed her hand tight. And I wasn't sure if she ever relaxed, but I know I fell asleep like that, nearly crying and holding my big sister's hand. When I woke up, the room smelled like pancakes—real ones, not the hospital kind—and Sean's aftershave. He stood between our beds, holding two paper plates stacked high. Greinne was already sitting up, her fingers picking at the edge of her blanket.

Chapter 18 Erinne’s Trials The hard part was done. The doctor knew. Me and Greinne had to stay in our room. Erinne and Sorsche could go home, but they didn't. They stayed with us until Sean and Susan were ready to leave with Aoife. “Greinne has a bad infection,” The doctor told Sean. “And I don’t like her posture, especially when she walks.” I shuddered. Greinne said that Daddy hit her because of posture. “She not bad,” I whispered. “She trying to be good.” The doctor frowned at me, then at Greinne. He sat on my bed and put his hand on my leg. My leg was moving again, like before. "I didn't say I didn't like her posture because she did something wrong, honey. I mean, it shows she has hurts we can't see so easy." “Huh?” “Like your hurt hips that your parents couldn’t see because you were walking around them. Remember?” I nodded. “Your sister has some injuries that we still cannot see. She’s holding herself the way she is because something is still wrong. She’s not bad, child. She just needs help.” “Okay.” I felt sad inside. I wondered if Greinne was hurt more. I hoped she wasn’t going to die. I wondered if I should have told a teacher, but with Daddy, telling anyone meant you got hit. But I should have told. Greinne is really hurt. I get hit anyway. I should have told. I felt a ghost-like hand grasping through my clothes, through my body, and into my heart, and it squeezed. I coughed and held my chest. I squirmed in the cold chill of guilt. I should have told. Tears flooded my eyes, but I couldn’t make a sound. It was all my fault. “Breathe,” I heard the familiar bear-like sound of Sean. “Just breathe, baby. Your sister is going to be okay. She’s here, and the doctor is looking into what is causing her problems, honey. It’s okay.” “I should have told,” I felt the words come out weaker and more whispery than I meant to. “It’s my fault she hurt. Daddy couldn’t have hurt her if I told.” Greinne’s voice was weak from the other bed, but she responded. “You couldn’t tell, Cait! He would have hurt you badly. It wasn’t your responsibility to tell.” “You got hurt because me. I too stupid to tell.” “Cait, you are not stupid. You were smart not to tell. Who knows what Daddy would have done. No one was there to protect you if you told.” I felt myself peeing. At first, it was a slow little bit, but then it got hard on my stomach and started to push faster and faster. I was a flooding icky warm peed in my diaper baby before I knew it. My legs moved naturally, as though they knew better than my mind, that I had done wrong. The sheets covered my diaper, but still, my legs scrambled to try to rub and push the wetness of the diaper down between my legs to hide it from view. I shivered a little, but I wasn’t scared of Sean, or Susan, or even the doctor. I was allowed to do it, but my body knew it was wrong. Dr. Henderson smiled at me as he let me lay back. His eyes were kind, and he positioned me on my back in a more comfortable position. He then touched my fingers, and he nodded. “You know you can’t get out of bed yet, sweetheart. You have no choice right now. It’s okay. We can always change you, little one. Healing is more important than getting to the toilet right now. That’s when I knew he knew I was peeing my pants. "I'll get her," Sean walked forward. "Unless you're not done with her." "I'm finished for now," Doctor Henderson said. "Go ahead and clean your baby up and check the other one over there. She's not to get out of bed either until I clear it, so she's going to start wearing diapers fulltime, too, until we get her sorted. I need to go check on some other patients and then plan my next steps with Cait and Greinne." Sean reached under the television table into a door that closed off our diapers from anyone just slipping in, and he pulled one out for me. He smiled. "It's okay, baby. We'll get you all fresh." Susan continued to hold Aoife, and she looked at Erinne. "I'm watching. Go check your other sister, and tell me if she's wet." "Yes, ma'am," Erinne answered, and she walked over to Greinne's bed. I felt as Sean picked me up from the wet sheets and Sorsche pulled them off my bed. Sean’s thick, strong fingers were careful as they braced my back and the backs of my upper legs. The diaper sagged, and he laid me on a fresh towel Sorsche put down, the sagging diaper for a moment not directly on my butt, and then I felt the heaviness of my body on top of the wet material. “There we go,” Sean’s bear-growl ever soothing me when he mumbled something. He undid the tapes, and the diaper fell from around my waist. Chill air covered my wet skin. I skirmed without meaning to, but Sean just smiled and sort of laughed a bit. “Easy, sweetie,” he breathed. “We just need to wipe off the pee pee, and then we can start getting you in a clean diapee.” His hands were warm when he wiped me, and he sprinkled baby powder that had that scent that filled the air with safety. It went over my hips like a light snowfall, sort of like Susan does when she puts flour on baking pans. He picked me up again, and Sorsche took the wet towel off of the bed. She put a clean one down then Sean laid me down before he pulled the scratchy hospital sheet over me. I didn’t smile though until he draped the wood scented shirt over my chest. I blushed, but I knew I was safe. All of my sisters knew me as the sister that peed all the time, so I didn't even care that Aoife saw me needing to be changed. Still, somehow, I felt weird. Sean was different about how he changed me. That’s what was weird. Daddy would pull me by the arm and yank me up to get to my wet nickers and yank them down my legs, touching as little of them as possible and calling me disgusting. Daddy wiped me roughly with a towel just enough that he said the smell was gone, but I don’t think it was. I was nothing but a rag doll in his hands. Sean, when I peed my pants, he held me like I was a precious lamb from his farm. He called me a good girl. He said that I was allowed to be a little girl. He said I was allowed, I was loved, and he.... He held me a lot more. He picked me up like I mattered, and he talked to me like I mattered. As Sean pulled my fresh diaper up, Greinne spoke, her voice stronger now, but still strained. "Erinne? Did you tell them about my leg?" Erinne hesitated, glancing at Susan before nodding. "Greinne?" She sounded like she was being careful, like what she said might start a fight. "I... I had to. It will keep Daddy from ever making me hit you like that again, and Daddy? And Mommy? They can't kick you like that ever again. So. I had to tell. I just figured if he found out, I'd just blame Cait because Sean and Susan are trying to adopt her. Even if he gets us back, he can't hurt Cait anymore. So I'd just tell Daddy the doctors told me Cait already told, so I had no choice." I stopped. I was not afraid of her blaming me. I was always blamed. But Erinne had planned this all from the beginning. That why she told me to keep peeing my pants in front of the McKinneys. She knew they were going to check. She hoped they would grow to like me. I could see it somehow, but I don’t know why. She planned on just telling Daddy I caused it all, and then no one would be in trouble, and I’d get to go somewhere safe, and the rest of them would live like usual. I still felt hurt that she would blame me, but I knew why. Sean's hands stilled against my hips, the diaper half-fastened. His jaw tightened. "No one," he said, low and rough, "is blaming Cait for anything. Ever." He turned his head toward Erinne, and for the first time, I saw something dark flicker in his eyes. "And no one is ever hitting Greinne again. You don’t have to lie for her. Not here." "Daddy might turn on Erinne, though, if he finds out she betrayed him," Greinne whispered. "She has to... say something." Sean exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers finishing the diaper tapes with deliberate gentleness. "Then we'll say I told." He cupped my hipbone—where the worst of the bruises had faded to sickly yellow—before tucking the blanket around me. "I'm an adult. Let him try." I looked up at Sean with adoration. "You only would know, though, if I told." Sean nodded. "And I did know." Sorsche whispered. "So, Cait, actually told. She told you. So, Cait will still be blamed even if Erinne doesn't use those words." Sean's hands clenched briefly into fists before relaxing. "No," he said firmly. "We'll say the hospital called me—that they had concerns when Greinne was admitted and demanded answers. That way, Cait isn't involved." He smoothed a hand over my hair, his touch lingering. "And if your father comes near any of you again, he'll answer to me." "Is Daddy going to get Erinne back?" Sorsche asked, shivering suddenly. Sean stopped for a moment, just a moment, but Greinne caught it. Her fingers twisted the sheet over her between them. “He won’t,” she blurted out. “He wouldn’t.” But her voice sounded like it was about to cry. "I meant, is Erinne going back to Daddy, Greinne?" Sorsche said more clearly. "If she's the only one he gets back, and he has no one else to hit, why wouldn't he hit her? He's mad!" Erinne’s fingers grasped the railing of the bed, Greinne was lying in, causing her fingers to seem to turn white. “I... I’ll be okay. I can take it.” Her voice was shaking, but it also sounded like she believed this was right. She seemed to tense as though she was ready for Daddy to hit her right then. Susan shifted Aoife in her arms and stepped forward, her voice steady but edged with something sharp. "No one is taking anything. Not anymore." She glanced at Sean, her gaze locking with his in silent understanding before she turned back to Erinne. "You think we'd let him lay a hand on you? After everything?" "I'd deserve it. Look what I did to Sorsche and Greinne, and even Cait didn't get off easy from me hitting her for Daddy." “Honey, you were a kid holding a belt because you thought it was the only way. That’s not you, baby. That’s that monster.” Sean’s fingers were twitching against my blanket, and his fingers seemed stressed as he finished his thought. The air smelled a bit like cleaner, and there was the tang of hospital sterileness in the sheets, but under it all, there was still the faint scent of safety. There was the scent of cedar wood that came from Sean’s shirt that lay on my chest. Erinne sighed, and she pushed Greinne over gently to check her butt. "Sissy peed her pants," she told the room. "Who's going to change her?" "I will," Susan said in a whisper. "Erinne, come and hold Aoife for a bit." Susan gently pushed Aoife off her lap for Erinne to come and take. Aoife squirmed to get down and then looked up as Erinne sat. Erinne just held Aoife, with Aoife standing between her legs as she held her around her stomach, protectively. Greinne stiffened a little as Susan moved towards her bed, having gotten a fresh diaper from the same place Sean got one from. When Susan pulled the sheet gently back, I saw the fully soaked bed under her. The diaper she had on was useless. I think she must have peed at least three times to get that much pee to come out of the diaper like that. Susan didn’t even flinch, though. She just cooed at her. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. You aren’t allowed out of bed right now. You have a bad owie inside your body. No one minds you being wet.” Greinne’s face was crimson red, though, and she shivered. She never peed her pants, just when she was sleeping. She didn’t even do that on purpose. She just couldn’t wake up in time. Greinne's fists curled into the sheets as Susan gently wiped her down, her breath hitching with every touch. "I didn't mean to," she mumbled, her voice thick with shame. "We know, baby," Susan shushed at her and touched her nose. "You're a big girl, but you have big owies, and before you are allowed to go to the bathroom on your own again, those owies need to be fixed, so you wear diapers... just until then, okay?" Greinne nodded, but her lips trembled. Susan pulled her fresh diaper up and taped it carefully, then kissed Greinne's forehead. "You're so brave." "The doctors told Sorsche and me that we can go home today," Erinne told us. "That's good news, right? If he has fewer of us to check on, then he can heal Greinne and Cait twice as fast." Sean sighed deeply. "That's not exactly how hospitals work, honey." Erinne frowned at him. "I was trying to give them some hope," and she stomped over to a corner and sat pouting. Susan tucked Greinne back in, smoothing the blanket over her hips where the diaper's bulk made a slight lump under the covers. "Hope's good," she said quietly, "but so is honesty." She glanced at Sean, who was adjusting my IV line with more focus than necessary. "We'll figure this out. All of us." "And..." Erinne frowned as she sat still in a temper. "I fucking pissed myself again, too." The room went silent except for the faint hum of the hospital's fluorescent lights. Aoife, still nestled in Erinne's lap, patted her sister's cheek with a sticky hand, oblivious to the tension. Erinne's face burned crimson as she shifted awkwardly in the plastic chair, the unmistakable sound of damp fabric sticking to vinyl cutting through the quiet. Susan didn't hesitate—she crossed the room in three strides and crouched beside Erinne, her hands already reaching for the diaper bag. "Let's get you fixed up, love," she murmured, unfastening Erinne's jeans with the same matter-of-fact care she'd shown Greinne. "I feel like I'm a stupid fucking baby, and worse, you just said I was stupid when I tried to cheer Greinne and Cait up. I am so useless! I hit them. I don't say stuff right, and now, I've pissed my pants again like... like I don't know what the hell I am doing!" Susan's hands stilled on Erinne's waistband, her thumbs brushing the sharp jut of the older girl's hipbones through the fabric. "You're thirteen," she said evenly. "And you've spent years thinking you had to be an adult. Let someone else carry it for once." The diaper crinkled as she pulled it up Erinne's thighs—too big, meant for younger kids, but it would do for now. "I'm not an adult," Erinne cried as Susan fixed the diaper on her and then helped her adjust herself, her wet jeans still on the floor. "I think we have an extra pair of pants in the car for you, honey. Remember the other day when we were out with our friends, and we talked about bringing extra clothes for all of you?" Erinne sniffled and nodded, her fingers twisting in the hem of her shirt. The diaper beneath her crinkled loudly as she shifted, and Aoife giggled, patting the bulky padding curiously. "Sissy's diaper," Aoife announced proudly, as if this were perfectly normal. Sean knelt beside Susan, pulling a flannel shirt from the hospital bag—one of his, the fabric worn soft from years of wear. He draped it over Erinne’s shoulders, letting the sleeves swallow her trembling hands. "Here," he murmured. "Smells like cedar and safety, right?" "Those are Cait's words, sir. I still don't really know you." She sniffled. "I'm sorry. It's just...." “Like cedar,” I whispered, my voice barely audible as I watched from my bed. Erinne’s shoulders stiffened. The diaper crinkled under her as she twisted to look at me, Sean’s flannel swallowing her frame like a cloak. Her eyes were red-rimmed, raw. I knew that look. Sometimes, when Daddy made her punish us, she’d lock herself in the bathroom for a while, so we couldn’t hear her, but then she’d come back out with her eyes looking exactly like that. "I know it's hard to trust after the person you should have trusted had been so... not worth it," Sean said with sympathy. "But we'll take it slow. Even if you don't feel safe with it on, you can still wear it to hide the diaper from view, okay?" Erinne pulled the flannel tighter around herself, her fingers gripping the fabric tightly. The smell of cedar was there, and she must have smelled it. It was better than Daddy’s tobacco and alcohol. It wasn’t angry stuff. It was nature stuff. I don’t know what she felt if not safe, but she didn’t drop the shirt. Susan finished taping the diaper snug around Erinne’s hips, then gently tugged a spare pair of sweatpants from the hospital bag—Sean’s, by the look of them, the hem rolled up twice to fit. "Arms up," she murmured, and Erinne obeyed mechanically as Susan guided the sweats over the bulky diaper, her movements precise. No one spoke. The only sound was the rustle of fabric and the distant beep of monitors down the hall. Aoife, still perched on Erinne’s knee, reached up to pat her sister’s damp cheek. "Sissy sad?" she asked, her tiny voice cutting through the tension like a knife through gauze. Erinne’s breath shuddered, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she pulled Aoife’s wrist closer to her as she hugged—not tight, just enough to feel the pulse there, steady and alive. Susan smoothed the sweats over Erinne’s diaper, her touch lingering on the younger girl’s knee. "You’re okay," she murmured, though it wasn’t really a reassurance—more like a fact, solid as the floor beneath them. Aoife wriggled closer, pressing her face into Erinne’s collarbone. "I stay wif you," she announced, sticky fingers clutching the flannel. Erinne froze, then exhaled sharply through her nose, her arms tightening around Aoife like she was the only thing anchoring her to the earth. Sorsche walked over and stood next to Erinne and put a hand gently on her shoulder. "You know Daddy hurt you, too." "I didn't get hit all the time," Erinne looked up at her. "But you cried when you hit Cait, and you weren't always happy to hit me or Greinne. I know, sometimes you were, but sometimes.... You weren't." Erinne nodded. "I didn't want to," she whispered, her voice cracking. The diaper beneath her rustled as she shifted, pulling Aoife closer. "But he’d look at me—that way he does—and I’d just... do it. Because if I didn’t..." Her fingers traced the edge of Sean’s flannel sleeve, frayed from wear. "He’d do worse." "You thought you were protecting us by hitting us... so Daddy wouldn't?" Erinne flinched at Sorsche's quiet words, her fingers tightening in Aoife's curls. The scent of baby shampoo mixed with the cedar of Sean's flannel as she buried her face against the top of Aoife's head. "Yes," she whispered, the word muffled against her sister's hair. "But you hated me?" She whispered. "Just cause I hated you for being a cause I couldn't see my own mom didn't mean I wanted this to happen to you." The IV line tugged at my wrist as I strained to hear them. Sorsche's fingers flexed against Erinne's shoulder—not pushing, just holding on. "You think I didn't notice?" Sorsche's voice dropped to a whisper only we could catch. "Every time Daddy made you use the belt, you'd pick the spot where he'd already hit me. Same bruise. Same place. You were..." She swallowed hard. "You were trying to make it hurt less." "I... Um... I didn't do it on purpose?" but her words were a give away. The way she hesitated when she said it like a question. She knew exactly what she was doing, like she missed me with every third swing of the belt. Sorsche pulled Erinne into her arms, ignoring the way the diaper crinkled between them. "You're a shitty liar," she said—but there was no heat in it. Just exhaustion, and something softer beneath. "Always have been." Erinne's breath hitched against Sorsche's shoulder, her hands clutching at her sister's back like she might disappear. Aoife squirmed between them, wedged in the embrace, her tiny fingers tangling in Erinne's borrowed flannel. "Sissy," she chirped, oblivious, "you squishin' me."

I'm working on a new chapter. Just had a lot of stuff going on, sorry about the absence. I know some of you are used to it, but I am still working on this one.

Chapter 17 How Bad That night, as I lie in bed reflecting after Sean and Susan finally went to get some rest. I don’t think either of them had slept at all since they put me in the hospital nearly a week ago, but I could see things slowly changing. I was slowly changing, too. Just to prove to myself that things were different, I pushed the blankets back and looked down at my broken hips, that were slowly gluing back together. I pulled at the gown until I saw the puffy white diaper spread out before my eyes. I was allowed to wear one, and Daddy had no say. I wasn’t supposed to go potty. I probably better listen to the doctor though. The doctor not being me or telling me he think I too stupid for bathroom. He says my hip still healing, and my side, where Daddy kicked me and caused something inside to hurt was cut open, fixed, and the stitches still healing on that, too. I smiled. I pushed the button for the nurse, just to tell them I wanted to go to the bathroom, but I knew they would tell me I couldn’t go yet. I knew they were worried about me getting up, but I could pee in front of them, and they wouldn’t be mad. They wouldn’t call me stupid. Then, I went to sleep.... “Honey, the kids need to eat,” Mama had said one day when we were driving around looking for something. “We really should look for a place to get them something.” Daddy frowned looking at Mama. “They had breakfast, hadn’t they?” “Well, yeah, I think so.” “Well, they can wait a couple more hours. It’s not going to hurt them. We need to take care of business first, and then maybe we can get them something.” “Of course.” We were all quiet in the back. Even Erinne didn’t have anything to eat right now, and Aoife did have some cookies, but she didn’t touch them. If she shared them, Erinne always told on us, but in a way that it was our fault that we were taking her cookies from her. A vision of being in a pizza place, all of us kids sitting at the table with Mama while Daddy went to the front to order. Arcade games were noisy in like a room just around the corner from the main eating place. Other kids ran in and out of the area, to go ask their parents, probably for more quarters. I sighed. We never got to leave our seats, no matter what. “I peed,” Aoife told Mama. “Well, I’m sorry, baby. You’ll just have to wait until we get to the car, and then I can change you.” Darkness loomed before me just as I started to realize I was lying down, still in the hospital. The Earlier memories had haunted my dreams, a stark contrast between what was allowed when we went out with Mama and Daddy and what Sean and Susan allowed us to do the night before. I hadn’t really heard what they planned to do with my sisters. It was still dark, and I needed to go to the bathroom, so I guessed it was morning, but so early that no sunlight showed through the hospital blinds. I sighed and moved my left leg to check if it still worked. I still had hope, but I felt a heavy, strange fear pressing into my life again. I didn’t know where it would come from, but I knew something was wrong. Under the window, I saw who could have only been one of my sisters, judging from the bumps in the blanket pulled over her. I knew it wasn’t Erinne or Aoife, so it was either Greinne or Sorsche. The sun wasn’t even up. I didn’t want to be a troublemaker. “You’re always causing trouble,” I could still hear Daddy’s voice echoing in my skull, telling me that I always made everyone’s job harder. I sniffled. I had to pee kind of bad. Sean said I could decide when I didn’t want to do it anymore in my pants... but if I pressed the call button, I’d get a tired nurse who had been working all night, and I’d be causing her trouble. I felt my arm shaking as I pulled it back away from the button over my head. I didn’t want to bother her. I was in a diaper because I... I just pee my pants all the time anyway. “What’s wrong?” I heard a low voice from the other bed. Greinne was definitely the one in that bed, and she seemed to have noticed that I lowered my hand from the call button. “Nothing,” I whispered in the same low tone I’d answer when just before Daddy checked on me, and I felt the same of having to wait there until he checked on me, and having to have a wet bottom or he’d demand I show him a puddle that might not even exist, and if I couldn’t, I’d get it. “You didn’t pee yet?” Greinne asked, knowing how scared I got when I hadn’t peed yet and thought Daddy would be coming anytime. “I haven’t, but.... that’s not I... It’s nothing. I promise, I not worried Daddy. He can’t come here.” Greinne sighed. “I know. That doesn’t take the scarey away, though, Cait. Just push the button, or I will. You can pee your pants or not, I don’t care, but you sitting there, trying to decide if it’s worth getting hit... You said Sean doesn’t hit. There’s no reason to sit there scared no more. You can ask someone for help. And if you’ve wet, you can tell them. They... don’t hit, do they?” “No. Sean doesn’t hit. Susan doesn’t hit. The doctor and the nurses said I not supposed to get out of bed, so no one gets in trouble for wetting the bed, even if they do it on purpose.” “So? Push the button.” “I don’t want to cause trouble, though. The nurses are always checking on me and work all night, and they need a break.” Greinne sighed. “I think they get breaks whether you call or not. It’s still a job, and I think just like we get recess at school, they must get time to rest for a minute or two at work, at least to eat lunch or dinner.” “I don’t know...,” I whispered. “The last time I saw a night nurse come in to check on me, not last night, but the night before, she looked really tired. She checked on me and didn’t say nothing mean, but she looked really tired.” “I mean, they are working all night,” Greinne said reasonably. “They have to stay awake all night, I suppose.” “Maybe they have beds though, and maybe a loud thing by their beds, and when we push the button, they get an alarm, only it goes off every ten minutes because someone needs them?” Greinne frowned and seemed to consider what I said for a moment. Her hair lay splayed out around the pillow, and her tongue seemed to press on her upper teeth just out by its tip enough that I could see, and knew that was her tell that she was in thought about something. “I don’t know,” Greinne finally looked back at me. “There are people who can’t move their hands. They must have to check on people all the time anyway.” “Maybe they set an alarm every four hours for those people?” I asked. Greinne sighed. “Maybe. The point is, you shouldn’t have to sit there and pee if you don’t want to, or wear a soaked diaper for more than an hour. It’s their job to change you.” “I hate it, though,” I whispered. “I want to do it myself and not make them.” “Can you fix a diaper on yourself?” Greinne asked me. “Why? Because I stupid?” I asked. “No. You're not stupid, Cait. I just don’t think I can get a diaper on myself so easily, either. I doubt even Sorsche could.” “I can take it off, though.” “And what if you have to go again before they come back, only you need to poop? You’d poop in the bed.” I frowned. “I wouldn’t do that.” “Then you’d have to hold it until they came, and I don’t think you should have to.” “I guess.” Greinne reached up and pushed her call button. “No guessing about it, Cait. You need help whether you peed or not, and if you're scared, then just pee your pants. I’m calling, though. Anyway, I wet the bed, and I don’t want to wear the wet diaper.” “Okay,” I whispered to Greinne. She never had to wear wet pants, but then at home, before Sean and Susan, she had always been allowed to clean up immediately when she woke up because bedwetting was blamed on Sorsche, who shared her bed. “You can press it for me, if you want. But I don’t want to cause trouble.” Greinne shook her head and looked at me with shiny eyes. “I wish Daddy knew how hard you tried to stay out of trouble and how hard you tried to not bother others.” I sighed. “But I did cause trouble. You had to all come here, and I don’t know if Erinne will get to see Daddy again, and I don’t know... I think she loves him?” “She does,” Greinne agreed. “But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t hit or hurt. She said sorry to me yesterday, and that was kind of surprising. And now I think about it, she washed out your clothes, chased Sorsche and me away when she realized what we were doing so she could do it better.” “I know. She didn’t always hit me when she supposed to. Sometimes, Daddy told her to hit me, but I sometimes felt the belt miss me every so often, and it was so close, and practiced, that after a while, I knew she was doing it on purpose. Missing me.” “Wait. She missed you on purpose? Daddy always threatened her to do it right when she hit me.” “I just saying. She got good at hitting really close, and it didn’t touch me, but then the next one did, so Daddy probably didn’t know when she hit and when she didn’t.” “I... I did notice that,” Greinne’s eyes rose in question as she thought about what I said. “I mean, I always thought it was just caused by her being nervous and trying to do it as fast as she could so Daddy didn’t think she was going easy on me.” “So, she missed you sometimes?” “Yeah.” “But yesterday..., she said she hit you and Sorsche on purpose because she was jealous of you having a Mommy but not her and me.” “I know. I heard the same thing. But there were a lot of things that didn’t make sense yesterday. Why was she too ashamed to look at me after she was told she didn’t have to hit us anymore? Why was she scared to sit by me? It’s not like I’m big enough to do anything to her, even if I was mad about what she did.” “I don’t know. I just know she misses sometimes.” The room got quiet for several minutes, as if someone had taken my ears away, or plunged me deep in water where we couldn’t hear sounds in the air. I felt a tightening in my heart, one that pressed so hard I wanted to cry. Erinne had taken it easy, even when she said she hated Greinne and Sorsche, but Daddy broke my hips. He said he loved me, but he hurt me, and Erinne said she hated Greinne and Sorsche, but Greinne just said she missed her sometimes, too. I felt a breath catch in my chest thinking about it. A nurse came in as Greinne was about to answer, her eyes flickering away from me toward the door where a blonde woman in blue scrubs walked forward without any tiredness or annoyance. She smiled first at Greinne and then at me, and her voice was soft as she leaned down to check the monitors still attached to me first. "You girls need anything?" she asked, her fingers adjusting something above me before she lifted the blanket to check the diaper underneath, not hesitating or making any face when she saw I'd wet while waiting. "I wet it again," I whispered. "The doctor says I can't get up on my own, and I couldn't wait anymore. Sorry." The nurse's fingers paused just a second—not in hesitation, but as if she were deciding how to answer. Her nails were short and clean, no rings catching on the sheets when she tugged loose the tapes. "Do you like the foam soap or the pink kind better, Cait?" she asked, like it was the most important question in the world. "I don't really know. I just glad I get to not wear a wet diaper a long time and get to change when it get on the gown on accident." I looked up at the nurse. "I thought soap just make you clean, not have importance of what kind." The nurse laughed softly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she pulled fresh wipes from the drawer. "Oh, honey, everything smells better when it's pink," she said, squirting a dollop of strawberry-scented foam onto her palm. The scent curled through the air, sweet and artificial, masking the sharper hospital smells underneath. Greinne wrinkled her nose but didn't say anything—just watched as the nurse's hands moved efficiently, warm against my skin where Daddy's had always been cold. “How long before visiting time?” Greinne asked while Nurse Burke was still talking and changing me. Nurse Burke looked at Greinne with narrowed eyes—not angry, but thinking. “Two hours yet,” she replied, snapping the fresh diaper tapes in place with a practiced twist of her wrists. “Why? Someone special coming?” "I don't know. I was just wanting to see my other sisters and of course maybe Mama. You don't have to tell Mama I peed the bed, do you?" Greinne wet her lips with her tongue, her face sort of red and probably hot. Nurse Burke glanced at Greinne first, then at me, while she pulled the fresh gown down over my legs. "I don't tell parents things unless they ask. And even then, I say as little as I can." "Mama not supposed to know that Greinne wets the bed. She thinks Sorsche does it, and especially Daddy blames Sorsche. Greinne told Mama once, but Mama thought Greinne was just covering for Sorsche, so she gave up telling her. Besides, Daddy says it dirty, and that probably why he hates me. I too stupid to use the bathroom." I blinked up at the nurse. She had to have heard some of what we talked about yesterday, but I wasn't really sure how much she listened. The nurse's fingers stilled on my blanket, her knuckles whitening just a fraction before she smoothed it over my legs. "That's not true," she said, too quiet, like she was talking more to herself than to us. Then she cleared her throat and stood straighter, adjusting the IV line with a sharp click of the roller clamp. "You know what we're having for breakfast today? Pancakes shaped like Mickey Mouse. And guess what—they come with strawberry syrup that smells just like this soap." "Really? Sean and Susan took me for pancakes once. They had chocolate in them. And they didn't even get mad when...," but I felt my face heat up, and I got quiet. She didn't need to know that, right? Greinne's fingers curled into her blanket like claws. "Daddy would've smacked your hands if you'd spilled syrup," she muttered, more to herself than to me. The words hung there, sharp as the antiseptic smell clinging to the sheets. I watched the nurse's face—the way her jaw tightened just for a second before she forced another smile. "Yeah, but he would have been really mad. I didn't spill syrup exactly. I... I did what I always do, and you know how he is about embarrassing him in front of public. But Sean said it okay, and new rules, and I allowed to... do it." The nurse's eyes flickered between us, her lips pressed thin before she exhaled through her nose. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small plastic-wrapped package—the kind they put silverware in. "Here," she said, tearing it open to reveal a tiny pink comb. "Let's fix your hair while we wait for breakfast. Your sisters like braids or ponytails?" I shrugged. "Susan started to braid my hair sometimes before I came to the hospital. At home, Mama doesn't have time to fix anyone's hair but Aoife, so Sorsche help Greinne. Erinne doesn't fix my hair because she not allowed. No one allowed because I always... dirty." Nurse Burke let out a slow breath, fingers working through my tangled curls with more patience than I'd ever felt from anyone. The comb caught on a knot and she paused, pressing the pad of her thumb against my scalp to dull the sting before gently working it loose. "You're not dirty," she said. "And neither is your hair." "I always wet the bed when I wake up, so Daddy said I made my hair dirty and stink. Mama let Greinne take a bath because she thought Sorsche peed on her, but I don't have time to, so I go school after I just change my panties." The nurse’s fingers trembled slightly against my scalp. The pink comb glinted under the fluorescent lights as she sectioned my hair with exaggerated care, her voice deliberately light. "I had a patient last year—older than you—who couldn’t hold his pee either. You know what he did? Became an astronaut. Said zero gravity fixed everything." "Daddy told Cait she had to sit in bed in the mornings until someone get her because he said she'd pee on the floor," Greinne told the nurse. "Daddy thought Cait is too stupid to do anything right, even use the toilet right." She sighed. "But Cait usually woke up and had to pee, and had to sit in bed, and do it on purpose and wait until Erinne or Daddy came to get her up and check on her." Nurse Burke's hands froze mid-braid, the strands of my hair slipping loose between her fingers. The strawberry-scented soap lingered in the air, suddenly cloying. "That's not how bodies work," she said, too softly, like she was trying to convince herself more than us. The IV pump beeped a quiet alarm beside me, unnoticed. "Daddy yelled at Sorsche for peeing her pants though in her sleep, even though she didn't. She had to sleep with me, so I accidentally always peed on her because I don't know why I pee the bed." I looked over at Greinne. "It because you need to see doctor, like Sean said. Be member? It not your fault that Daddy hit Sorsche and me for everything, you know." Grinne clutched the edge of her blanket. "Yeah, but—" The door swung open before she could finish, and a different nurse—older, with her dark hair pulled tight into a bun—walked in holding a plastic tray laden with pancakes. Steam curled from Mickey Mouse's ears, and the syrup shimmered in little plastic cups. She didn't smile, but her voice was warm. "Breakfast. You two eat up—doctor wants both of you strong enough for some more tests by noon." Greinne stiffened at the word doctor, her fingers digging into the mattress. I watched the syrup drip onto my pancake, pooling in Mickey's left eye like tears. Nurse Burke finished braiding my hair with a twist of a rubber band, her hands lingering just a second longer than necessary. "You're not dirty," she whispered again, so low I almost missed it. "Okay," I sighed. Sean said it. Susan said it, and Greinne didn't mind me, and now, Nurse Burke said I wasn't. Maybe I wasn't. I wasn't used to so many people saying I wasn't. I don't think anyone had ever told me I wasn't before Sean and Susan took me in. "But I'll try to be better now." "You're already better," Nurse Burke said, smoothing down the wispy hairs that escaped the braid. "You just need to believe it." "Okay," I said though I wasn't sure what believing it had to do with anything. You could believe in Santa Claus with all your heart, but you still didn't get toys unless your Daddy wanted you to have them, and he had money for them. "I... I'll try to believe." My heart wasn't in it though. Nothing ever came from belief. The pancake tasted better than at home when Erinne tried, but ended up making stuff that tasted like cardboard, but not as good as Susan's cooking. I tried to mouth it around a bit, but it was just not something I wanted to eat. Greinne wasn't eating either—just pushing hers around the plate with her fork tines, making little rivers in the melted butter. The older nurse hovered by the door, arms crossed, watching us with eyes that missed nothing. "You need to eat," she said finally, voice firm but not unkind. "Doctor's orders." "Doctor orders or not," I looked at the nurse, my voice barely a whisper because I was talking back, against authority, and that used to get you a good strapping by Erinne unless Daddy got real mad, then well... my hip! "I mean.... I just don't want pancakes." Greinne shoved her plate away with more force than necessary, syrup sloshing over the edge. "Me neither." Her jaw was tight—the way it got right before she'd start yelling at Sorsche for something stupid, like hogging the crayons. But her eyes kept flicking to the door, like she expected Daddy to walk through any second, Erinne at his side, forced to be obedient with the belt already unbuckled. The older nurse sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose where her glasses had left little red marks. "What *would* you eat, then?" Her tone wasn't mad—just tired in a way that made my chest ache. Like she'd asked this same question to too many kids who couldn't answer. "D... do you have something like cold cereal, milk, and something like that?" I asked trying to be as quiet as possible so she wouldn't think I was being sassy on top of being picky. The nurse’s shoulders relaxed slightly. "We’ve got Cheerios. And bananas." She glanced at Greinne. "You?" "That's perfect. It's what we're used to," Greinne smiled. "Don't tell Daddy we got picky?" The nurse paused at Greinne's words, her fingers tightening around the tray handles. "There's no Daddy here to tell," she said slowly, like she was tasting each word before letting it out. "Just you girls and what you need." "...And... I peed, I think," Greinne sighed. "I'm sorry." The older nurse glanced down at Greinne's blankets. "Alright, let's get you cleaned up before breakfast." She didn't scowl, didn't sigh—just pulled fresh wipes from the drawer with the same efficiency as Nurse Burke. Greinne's fingers twisted in her gown, waiting for the reprimand that never came. I looked over at Greinne. "Sean won't let them be mean to you for wetting the bed," I said with a little smile. "He says it just salt water, and besides, nurses and doctor just try to make healthy. They don't care wet, that why they put on us diapers. Right?" I looked to the nurses. Nurse Burke nodded with a small chuckle. "Our job is keeping you comfortable while you heal—that includes clean diapers when needed." Her fingers gently tugged at Greinne’s blankets. "Don't be scared," I whispered softly to my elder sister. "It okay. I still think you smarter and I still think you important for me. Wetting the bed, you told me before I went to Sean's house, be member? My feeling for you actually got stronger because you can admit it and then Sorsche said you tried to tell Mama, even, but she didn't listen. You are best sister in the world." Greinne's fingers loosened their grip on her gown, slowly, like she was testing the truth of my words. The older nurse peeled back the blankets with clinical detachment, but her hands were warmer than Daddy's ever were. The scent of antiseptic wipes mixed with leftover pancake syrup—sharp and sweet at once—as Greinne lifted her hips obediently, her face turned toward the window where morning light painted pale gold across the sheets. "I'm sorry," she whispered again, this time to me, not the nurses. "I'm supposed to be the one telling you it's okay." "No...," I whispered back. "I... I have Sean. I know I'm safer now than I've been since a long time, and I know you tried. But you a kid, Greinne. And... and I know you hate needles and doctors. I do, too, but Sean makes me feel safer. That why I have his shirt. See? He gave me his shirt again before they left last night." Grinne’s fingers twitched toward mine across the gap between our beds—just for a second—before the older nurse lifted her hips to slide a fresh diaper under her. Greinne inhaled sharply at the cold touch of the wipes, her face twisting. She hated being handled like this almost as much as she hated wetting the bed. Her eyes flicked to the nurse’s hands, then away, jaw clenched like she was counting seconds until it was over. "I promise, it's okay to get changed, Greinne," I whispered to her. "It doesn't make you... you know... helpless. It just mean you hurt." The older nurse's hands paused, mid-wipe. Her gaze flicked between us—Grinne's pinched face, the way I clutched Sean's flannel shirt tight against my chest. Something in her expression shifted. She didn’t say "it's okay" like grown-ups always did. Instead, she reached for the strawberry-scented foam soap and squirted it onto her palm with deliberate slowness. "Cold wipes are the worst," she muttered, rubbing her hands together until they warmed the foam. "Better?" I looked into Greinne's face, trying to read if she was going to tell the truth or not. I knew she hated to sound weak. It allows bullies to take advantage of you. That's what she told me once last year. She never acted weak, even when she was hurting. She swallowed, staring at the nurse's hands—pink fingers hovering just above her skin. "Y-yeah," she admitted, voice cracking. "Better." The nurse nodded curtly, smoothing fresh tapes over Greinne's hips. Her nails—unpainted, practical—caught the light briefly. "You're allowed to say when something hurts," she murmured, tucking the blanket back in place. "Nobody gets medals for suffering quietly." "And sometimes, if you cry, they make you sleep so it doesn't hurt as much," I told Greinne. "They did that after when they had to do something to inside me to get my legs right. I hurt really bad and started crying, so they made me sleep with medicine." Grinne’s fingers crept over the gap between our beds again, this time catching mine with a grip so tight it hurt. "Did Sean stay?" she whispered, her eyes darting to the nurses like they might report her weakness. "No. He said he was sorry, but he had work that had to be done this morning on the farm," Nurse Burke told us. "But Susan is supposed to visit this morning with your Mother and Aoife." "What... what about Sorsche and Erinne?" I whimpered. "Aren't they going to visit?" "Sweetie, the doctor put them in their own rooms. They are in the hospital." "But Daddy never hit Erinne," I whispered. I mean, he did, but not like he did us. I didn't understand how she could be hurt. "Sweetie, your sister has a mental condition caused by stress, depression, and the violent things that went on at your house. She's been cutting herself. I know you don't understand how serious that is, but she hurt herself pretty bad the last time she did. She could have died." I looked down. "Really?" Grinne's fingers tightened around mine—warm and a little sticky from syrup. "The night before you came to Sean's house," she said softly, staring at her untouched Cheerios. "Remember how Erinne had those long sleeves, even though it was hot?" I nodded and gulped. I wasn't sure I wanted to know, but I had to know. I knew that something was not quite right with her, but I could never really place it before. "Erinne cried when she thought I was asleep," Greinne continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "She said she was going to be just like him—just like Daddy—if she wasn't careful. She said she wanted to die before she ever hit Aoife the way Daddy hits us." "How did you hear her? She sleeps in another room. Were you up when you were supposed to be sleeping?" I asked sort of wondering how Greinne would have heard. Grinne gnawed her lip, eyes darting toward Nurse Burke who was pretending not to listen while adjusting my IV. "I snuck out to pee—didn't wanna wake Daddy—and I heard her crying in the bathroom." Her fingers twisted in the blanket. "She had scissors and... and her arms were all red. Like the time Sorsche spilled nail polish on the carpet." "That why you forgave her yesterday so easily? I mean, I thought I helped by telling you how she misses on purpose sometimes, but... you still forgave her. She hit you more than anyone." Grinne exhaled sharply through her nose, her fingers picking at a loose thread on her blanket. The older nurse set down her clipboard with deliberate quietness, exchanging a glance with Nurse Burke that lingered just a second too long. "Yeah," Greinne finally admitted, her voice cracking like thin ice. "Because when she saw me standing there, she dropped the scissors and hugged me so hard I couldn't breathe." Her thumb rubbed over the faded bruise on her wrist—the one Erinne had given her last punishment. "She smelled like rubbing alcohol and that weird mint gum Daddy hates." "She took you back to bed, then," I whispered. "You wet the bed that night because next morning, Sorsche got yelled at again for peeing the bed." Grinne nodded, her fingers tightening around mine. "Erinne tucked me in and whispered, 'Don't tell.'" Her voice cracked on the last word, and she pressed her forehead against our joined hands. The older nurse's footsteps were deliberately loud as she walked to the sink, giving us a semblance of privacy. Greinne and I continued talking for a while, and we ate our cereal and the nurses went about their other chores. I was glad to have Greinne in the room with me. Even if Sean's shirt gave me some comfort, I still really loved having Greinne there. Eventually, Nurse Burke came back in. "Alright, girls. Doctor Henderson is going to be here soon to check on Cait's legs, and Greinne, you're due for another IV treatment. You remember how that works, right?" I looked up at the nurse. "Maybe he will let me stand up this time?" Nurse Burke smiled, adjusting the clipboard under her arm. "We'll see what the doctor says." "How am I hurt, exactly?" Greinne asked the nurse. "Well, I don't know the specifics, but the doctor says that you need the fluids we are giving you before he can do anything about your pain or condition. I know you have a suspicious bruise in the same place Cait had, and it turned out he bruised her bladder and kidney pretty bad." Grinne recoiled slightly, fingers instinctively pressing against her lower abdomen. "That's why it burns," she muttered, more to herself than to us. The sunlight through the window caught the IV tubing, casting watery reflections across her drawn face. "Even if it's not bruised as bad, there is also an infection that hasn't been taken care of and has gotten pretty strong. The doctor thinks that maybe part of the reason for wet nights." My fingers twisted in Sean's shirt—the one he'd left last night smelling like hay and woodsmoke. Greinne's IV pump beeped as the older nurse adjusted the flow rate, her movements brisk but careful. Behind her, the door creaked open just wide enough for Doctor Henderson to peer in, his white coat sleeve catching on the handle. "Doctor Henderson?" I whispered. "I was hoping Susan would be here before you checked, so she could see if I can walk yet at the same time." Doctor Henderson stepped fully into the room, adjusting his stethoscope with a practiced flick of fingers. "Susan's in the waiting room with your mother and..." His eyes flicked to Greinne's chart. "Aoife. Hospital policy says only two visitors at a time." "We don't have no visitors right now, and... and I want Susan and Aoife. Mama... well, Mama can talk to us later." I teared up. "It Susan and Sean that took me to hospital and care that I cried because my stomach hurted." Doctor Henderson hesitated—just long enough for Greinne to seize my wrist under the blankets, her nails biting my skin. The older nurse cleared her throat. "Perhaps an exception could—" "Please?" I asked. "No one visiting right now, and I don't care if Mama comes in or not." Doctor Henderson exhaled sharply through his nose—the way Daddy did before deciding if a punishment was worth his time. But then his shoulders dropped half an inch. "Alright. Nurse Burke, fetch them." His stethoscope swung forward as he crouched beside my bed, pressing the cold metal against my ribs. "Deep breath." I tried to breath deep, but I still felt something cold and stopped midway, the same as it caught so I couldn't fully laugh or even cough. It just hurt too much when my stomach pushed out too far or went in too far. "It hurt," I whispered unable to disguise the whine in my voice. Doctor Henderson's stethoscope lifted from my skin, his fingers pressing gently along my ribs instead. "I know," he murmured, his voice low enough that the nurses wouldn't hear. "But I need to check." His hands moved down—past my stomach, past my hips—and stopped just above my thighs. "Can you lift your legs?" "I can," I said trying to will them to lift. The left leg responded faster than the right leg, but they both went up maybe a little slower than I wanted. "I hope I can walk soon. I want to use the toilet again.... I mean, not right now, but just... again. To know I am a normal girl and not a strange thing or a broken toy." Doctor Henderson's fingers lingered just above my knees, pressing in spots that made me squirm. "You're healing," he said, but his eyes flicked to Greinne's bed—to where her hands were clenched white-knuckled around the rails. His throat worked silently before he added, "Neither of you are broken." The door creaked open before I could ask why his voice sounded like Sean's after he'd found Daddy's belt in my suitcase. Susan rushed in smelling of lavender soap and sunshine, her work boots leaving faint dirt smudges on the linoleum. Aoife darted past her straight to Greinne's bedside, clutching a crumpled drawing of stick-figure sisters holding hands under a lopsided rainbow. "Can... can I see?" I asked both Aoife and Greinne as I breathed out and looked up at the doctor. "So how long before I walking again and going to toilet again?" Susan stood next to Doctor Henderson with her hands clasped tightly in front of her—her knuckles whitening like Greinne’s around the bed rails. She smelled like laundry detergent and the faint tang of motor oil from Sean’s workshop, familiar as the flannel I was clutching. The doctor’s stethoscope swung as he straightened, casting a thin shadow across my knees. "Another day or two of IV fluids, then we’ll try standing with support," he said, but his eyes kept darting to Greinne’s chart. "You worried Greinne," I frowned. "You keep looking her. She hurt more than you telling!" I frowned and pouted. I wanted my sister to be okay, but if she wasn't, then I wanted to know how I could help her. "It not nice to make twins not know how we can help the other when the other is hurt. Greinne protected me all the time, and now it my turn! How can I help her?" Susan knelt beside my bed, her rough fingers smoothing my hair—gentler than Mama ever was. "Sweetheart, the doctors are helping her. Just like they're helping you." Her thumb brushed the corner of my eye where tears threatened to spill. "Being here with her is helping." "She scared to cry or be weak," I whispered. "I think she hurting so much, if it me, I be crying, but she not cry so easy. She said bullies see you cry, and they hurt you more. She so strong, but I think she hurting more." Grinne's breath hitched—quiet, but I heard it. She was staring at Aoife's drawing like it was the only thing keeping her from floating away. Doctor Henderson moved to her bedside, his stethoscope swinging like a pendulum. "Grinne," he said quietly, "does it hurt worse when you breathe?" "Cause that mean you...," But Susan held my hand and put her finger to her lips saying shush. I could tell she was just trying to let the doctor find out what he needed, but I wanted to help her understand why she had to tell him. She might lie. Grinne's fingers twitched toward her ribs, then clenched the blanket instead. "Only... only when it's deep," she admitted, voice thin as hospital gauze. The doctor's stethoscope pressed against her back, and she flinched—just slightly—when the cold metal touched skin. Aoife climbed onto the foot of her bed, wrinkling the drawing in her small fists. I felt my heart hitch a little and tears came to my eyes. It sounded to me like she got hurt like I did, but she was okay before I left with Sean and Susan, so that means it happened in just this week. “What Daddy do to you?” I asked Greinne. “Did he make Erinne step on you? Kick you? Push you downstairs?” Grinne curled her fingers around Aoife’s ankle—just holding on, like she was afraid our little sister would disappear. “Not Daddy,” she whispered. "Not Daddy?" felt myself about to cry. "But who else would do that?" Grinne's fingers tightened around Aoife's ankle. The little girl didn't seem to notice, her bare feet swinging as she pointed to her drawing. "That's you," Aoife announced, tapping the tallest stick figure with crayon-smudged fingers. "And that's Greinne." Her voice was so light, so oblivious to the tension in the room. Susan's hand clamped over mine—gentle but firm—as Greinne whispered one word: "Mama." My eyes narrowed. "You supposed to be Mama's!" I screamed and then started crying. "Why," but I felt myself whining but running out of sound because my stomach wouldn't let it out. It hurt too much to cry that much because I hurt. I screamed though, and though it wasn't as loud as others could get, you might think the doctor was giving me a shot or something. Sean came in and ran right to my bed. "Cait, Cait," he said rubbing my hair. "It okay, Cait." He smelled like apples and hay and soap. He hugged me, and I smelled his flannel shirt, and I noticed it wasn't wet. He smelled clean and safe. "You okay?" “M...ma... Mama hurt Greinne,” tears still in my eyes and I shuddered like I was crying, but I couldn’t make the sounds as constant. My stomach didn’t let me. Even the doctor thought that was a bit weird. I could tell by the way he eyed me because I wasn’t crying right. “I... I hate Mama! And... and... I hate, hate, Daddy.” Sean’s large farmer’s hands—calloused from years of labor—cupped my face, thumbs brushing away tears. His flannel sleeve brushed my cheek, smelling faintly of animal feed and antiseptic from the hospital. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you here,” he murmured, but his eyes flicked to Greinne’s bed, where Doctor Henderson was quietly palpating her ribs. Greinne’s face was white as the sheets, her teeth gritted so hard her jaw trembled. Sean turned to where Mama was peeking in at the door. "You." He glared at her for moments, his mouth opening and closing. "Get your fucking ass out of here," to told Mama, not loudly, but in that dangerous tone that teachers sometimes use when you know you are about to lose recess. "You... you lost contact with your kids until... well, I don't know when. I'm pressing charges for assault on your minor children." Mama stared blankly at him, her lipstick slightly smeared—the way it got when she'd been chain-smoking in the car. "They're my daughters," she said flatly, like she was reciting a grocery list. "And you should have been protecting them," Sean frowned in a whisper. "Cait... she found out about you. You hurt your own daughter so bad, she needs to be in the hospital, possibly for damaged insides? You... are no fucking mommy. Now get out, before I call the police." Mama's fingers twitched—her nails digging into her own palms—but she stepped back into the hallway. The fluorescent lights flickered over her face, revealing dark circles under her eyes that no amount of makeup could hide. "Greinne?" Sean whispered. "Did your Daddy tell her to hit you, or did she just do it. You are safe. You can tell the truth. I want the truth so I know what to tell the courts about any chance of her seeing you again, baby." Grinne squeezed Aoife's foot so tight our little sister finally winced. "She—" Greinne swallowed hard, her throat working like she was trying not to vomit. "She said I was disgusting for wetting the bed. Said I was doing it on purpose to spite her." The IV line trembled as she clenched her fists. "She kicked me. Right... right where it already hurt from Daddy." "Your Daddy kicked you, too? I knew he kicked Cait. I thought he was hands off except for making Erinne do his dirty work with you, baby. Or did you just say that afraid he'd get mad if he found out you told on him?" Grinne's breathing hitched—shallow and fast—as if she were trying not to whimper. The IV line swayed with her trembling. "Daddy... he made me stand in the corner after breakfast. Said I was... was slouching like a whore." Her fingers scraped against the hospital sheet, nails catching threads. "He kicked me from behind. I fell into the wall." "It's okay. The police called last night. Daddy is in jail waiting trial. We might have to go back to Idaho to put him away for a few years and to get you and Cait out of his grasp.... But we are asking them to put that on hold until you girls are out of the hospital." Grinne's breath caught—sharp and sudden—her fingers digging into the mattress seams. Sean reached across the space between our beds, his rough palm engulfing her smaller hand. "Idaho?" she whispered, her voice cracking around the word like thin ice. "Only long enough to for the trial, baby. Unfortunately, he has the right to face you when he faces prison time, but Susan and I will be there. You'll have a lawyer representing you, too, and now, your Mama is going to be charged with one account of assault unless you have other examples of her hurting you or your sisters." Grinne's fingers knotted in the sheets. Her breathing was steadier now—less panicked—but her voice was small. "She hit Erinne once. With a frying pan." "And she... makes me pee my pants on purpose at the table because I have to finish my homework, and then spanks me for peeing my pants and not holding it long enough," I reminded Greinne. "And she even punished you once for peeing your pants at the table, not hitting that time, but still, she yelled at you, and she caused it." Grinne nodded, her fingers tightening around Aoife's ankle again. The little girl leaned against her leg, oblivious to the tension, coloring another shaky rainbow on the corner of her paper. Greinne's throat moved as she swallowed, her voice barely audible. "She used to lock Sorsche in the closet when I peed the bed. For hours. She thought it was Sorsche." Sean exhaled through his nose—slow, controlled—his farmer’s hands braced against my bedrail like he was holding back a storm. The doctor’s stethoscope slipped from his grip, clattering against the linoleum. Nobody moved to pick it up. "So, you understand now, how important it is that these kids don't go back with those people?" he asked the doctor. "I mean.... I knew something was off when I caught Cait wetting her pants on purpose twice. Nine-year-old children don't do that unless they are scared or someone has conditioned them to do it, right?" Doctor Henderson retrieved his stethoscope with deliberate slowness, his fingers lingering on the cool metal. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting sharp shadows under Greinne’s eyes. "Legally," he said carefully, "I'm obligated to report suspected abuse. But medically?" His jaw tightened. "I can ensure these records detail every fracture, every contusion—in terms that leave no room for interpretation." "I am very grateful for your help in documenting. How are we going to prove that Erinne's self-inflicted wounds are caused by that house? Is there a clinical or medical thing that can be looked into for that?" Doctor Henderson’s pen hesitated over Greinne’s chart. The fluorescent light buzzed like an angry hornet above us, flickering once—casting shadows that made Greinne’s bruises look darker. "Pattern recognition," he said finally. "Erinne’s injuries form a narrative. Ligature marks from restraints. Scar tissue layered over older scars." His voice dropped. "Children don’t systematically torture themselves unless they’ve been taught how." "They don't," Sean asked. "I mean, there are suicide cases and other cases that make that seem easy for the defense to pick apart, unless it can be asserted beyond a reasonable doubt, right?" Doctor Henderson exhaled sharply through his nose—almost a laugh, but not with humor. "Psychological evaluation," he murmured, flipping a page in Greinne's chart. "Erinne's case shows textbook signs of prolonged coercive control. The self-harm patterns—parallel cuts, precise depth replication—that's mimicry of perpetrator behavior. Forensics can confirm tool marks from household objects." "Thank you. And the mother, can we pin the other things the kids said about her, or just the recent attack on Greinne on her?" The doctor’s stethoscope swung as he turned to face Sean fully. "Bedwetting punishment logs from school nurses. Timestamped ER visits correlating with CPS reports that went nowhere. And now—" His gaze flicked to Greinne’s ribs, where purple bloomed beneath the hospital gown. "Forensic mapping shows the boot tread matches Mrs. Weimer's shoes." Sean’s hand crushed the flannel draped over my IV stand. The fabric smelled like hay and safety. "So we bury them."