Who is Foster

Chapter 24

Tuesday

The little boy sat silently in the dark closet, tears rolling down his cheeks. He wore nothing but a pair of underwear. He had to go to the bathroom, but the closet was locked. He had already wet himself, but it was dry now and he hoped She wouldn’t notice. If She didn’t come back soon, he knew his body would force him to wet himself again. He also knew that if he did, She would beat him. Again. The effort to keep from wetting himself hurt so bad, that he wondered if it was worth it to keep trying. But She might come back any minute and if he could just wait her out, maybe he could avoid a beating. Maybe. But then She seemed to like beating him. Finally, his body took over and he was forced to relieve himself. The relief allowed him to consider his situation. She always locked him in this closet when she left their rooms. Sometimes She left him a bottle of water and some crackers. She had this time, but they were gone. She didn’t usually leave for so long. It had been light out when she left. The closet door had cracks where he could see a little light. When it got dark last night, he thought She would come. But She didn’t. Now it was morning again. Surely, She would come today. He spent the day dozing and waking. It was hard to get comfortable in the small closet even though he wasn’t very big. He was hungry and thirsty and that made it hard for him to sleep. His arm hurt from where She had squeezed it so hard when She put him in the closet. When he saw the light fading through the cracks, he knew night was coming again. Daddy his heart cried out where are you? When you went to the war, you promised you’d come back to me and mommy. We need you, daddy. Mommy says you went to see Jesus. Aren’t you done seeing him yet? I need you, daddy. Mommy got so sad about you seeing Jesus that she kept taking medicine and sometimes she even took shots. Now she has left me, too. I tried asking Jesus to send you back, but he didn’t. I’m scared, daddy. And hungry. And thirsty. And my arm hurts. If you can’t come back to me, can you maybe ask Jesus if I can come to see him too? Then he remembered his mommy and daddy telling him he could always pray when he was scared. So, he closed his eyes and prayed, dear Jesus I need my daddy. Can you please send him back to me? If that’s not okay, can I please come to your house and be with my daddy? Amen. He felt a little better and tried to sleep some more. The next time he opened his eyes he could see the sun through the cracks. He listened carefully to see if he heard She. He knew what he was supposed to call her but refused to think of her as anything other than She. Unless it was She Monster. But he didn’t hear anything. When she was sleeping, She usually snored and even though he listened really hard he didn’t hear anything. He tried the door in case She had come back and unlocked it. It was still locked. It was easier to sleep now, and he was glad he hadn’t needed to use the bathroom for a while. Maybe when She did come back, She wouldn’t notice that he had wet. He dozed back off for a little longer. He woke slowly. It was too hard to move. He tried to figure out what woke him and then realized he heard voices. It wasn’t She, but he could hear two people talking. He listened carefully. A man was talking. Could it be daddy? No, this man didn’t sound anything like daddy. He heard the man say, “what smells so bad?”

The lady said, “it seems to be coming from here. Charlie, when did you put a lock on this closet?”

The man answered, “I never put a lock on the closet. I’ll go get something to cut it off.” The boy dozed off again. It was so hard to stay awake. He was barely aware of the man returning.

He tried to rouse himself when the door swung open and he heard the women say, “Oh, Charlie, it’s a child. Call 911.”