once
again.
*****
One month after Jack
Kursed moved into his new home, eight-year-old Tiffany March lay on
her bed. She wore headphones and the music was loud, but could
still hear the punishment being handed out in the kitchen below.
Sara, one of three foster children living in the home, had dropped
a dish, and needed to be disciplined.
Every few seconds the
house would seem to shake, followed by cries of pain and Miss
Simmons' shouts of rage.
Tiffany lost her parents
when she was four. Her mother died from cancer, and her father
abandoned her. He literally walked out the door, leaving Tiffany to
play in her room, and never returned. Police found her in their old
apartment, living off whatever food was left. She'd been moved from
foster home to foster home ever since.
Miss Simmons was, by far, the meanest
foster parent she ever had.
She looked over to Carrie,
the girl she shared the bedroom with. Tiffany tried to get her
attention, but Carrie ignored her as she read a book. Carrie was a
few years older. Tiffany didn't like her all that much. She had, on
more than one occasion, passed blame onto others in the house to
avoid the discipline.
Carrie still had a fresh
bruise on her shoulder from when she spoke out during home
schooling.
The music in Tiffany's
ears wasn't providing a good distraction. She grabbed a coloring
book from under the bed and began filling in the colors on a
princess. One day, she was going to be a princess, like in the
cartoons. She would have friends and animals and people that cared
about her. Adults like Miss Simmons would have to go to the
dungeon.
Tiffany and Carrie both
jumped when the door to the bedroom flew open. Miss Simmons led
Sara into the room by the arm and threw her to the floor. Tiffany's
first instinct was to run to the girl, give her a hug. She held her
ground. Sara was Carrie's age, but a lot nicer. They would play
dolls together when they could.
"Sara will be staying in
here from now on," Miss Simmons said. Tiffany couldn't remember a
time she didn't sound angry. "She's lost her bedroom
rights."
Tiffany looked at Sara.
The older girl didn't bother getting off the floor. She kept her
head low, so her hair covered her face and hid her tear-stained
cheeks.
"Sara," Tiffany said, her voice quiet
and soft. "You can sleep in my bed."
Miss Simmons stepped forward and
grabbed Tiffany by her chin. She stared into the child's terrified
eyes.
"What part of no bedroom didn't you
get? She sleeps on the floor. I swear, I don't know why I put up
with you. Eating my food, destroying my house-"
She ranted as she closed
the bedroom door behind her. After her footsteps disappeared down
the hall Tiffany climbed off her bed and hugged Sara around the
shoulders. Sara sobbed as she put a hand over Tiffany's.
"You shouldn't have dropped that
dish," Carrie said. "You should have been more careful."
Sara looked at Carrie,
fury in her red eyes. She shouted and ran toward Carrie. Tiffany
kept her arms locked around Sara, slowing her down as she neared
the bed. Carrie curled into a ball near the headboard.
"Get away from me!"
"Shhh!" Tiffany said. "Miss Simmons
will hear!"
Sara balled her fist and slammed it
down on Carrie's bed. She had been with Miss Simmons longer than
anyone. Tiffany knew it was hard for her, like it was hard for all
of them. Sara skulked across the room and sat on the floor next to
Tiffany's bed.
"You can have my bed,"
Tiffany said.
"Didn't you hear what Miss Simmons
said?"
"I'm running away."
Sara and Carrie traded
looks as the plucky eight-year-old dropped to her hands and knees
and pulled items from under her bed. A pair of shorts, sunglasses,
a hair clip. Also her two most prized possessions, her digital
camera and photo album.
"Do you remember the last time you
tried to run away?" Carrie asked.
Tiffany remembered. Miss
Simmons found her not even an hour later, two blocks from the
house. The discipline was severe. Tiffany had to spend an entire
day locked in the
again.
*****
One month after Jack
Kursed moved into his new home, eight-year-old Tiffany March lay on
her bed. She wore headphones and the music was loud, but could
still hear the punishment being handed out in the kitchen below.
Sara, one of three foster children living in the home, had dropped
a dish, and needed to be disciplined.
Every few seconds the
house would seem to shake, followed by cries of pain and Miss
Simmons' shouts of rage.
Tiffany lost her parents
when she was four. Her mother died from cancer, and her father
abandoned her. He literally walked out the door, leaving Tiffany to
play in her room, and never returned. Police found her in their old
apartment, living off whatever food was left. She'd been moved from
foster home to foster home ever since.
Miss Simmons was, by far, the meanest
foster parent she ever had.
She looked over to Carrie,
the girl she shared the bedroom with. Tiffany tried to get her
attention, but Carrie ignored her as she read a book. Carrie was a
few years older. Tiffany didn't like her all that much. She had, on
more than one occasion, passed blame onto others in the house to
avoid the discipline.
Carrie still had a fresh
bruise on her shoulder from when she spoke out during home
schooling.
The music in Tiffany's
ears wasn't providing a good distraction. She grabbed a coloring
book from under the bed and began filling in the colors on a
princess. One day, she was going to be a princess, like in the
cartoons. She would have friends and animals and people that cared
about her. Adults like Miss Simmons would have to go to the
dungeon.
Tiffany and Carrie both
jumped when the door to the bedroom flew open. Miss Simmons led
Sara into the room by the arm and threw her to the floor. Tiffany's
first instinct was to run to the girl, give her a hug. She held her
ground. Sara was Carrie's age, but a lot nicer. They would play
dolls together when they could.
"Sara will be staying in
here from now on," Miss Simmons said. Tiffany couldn't remember a
time she didn't sound angry. "She's lost her bedroom
rights."
Tiffany looked at Sara.
The older girl didn't bother getting off the floor. She kept her
head low, so her hair covered her face and hid her tear-stained
cheeks.
"Sara," Tiffany said, her voice quiet
and soft. "You can sleep in my bed."
Miss Simmons stepped forward and
grabbed Tiffany by her chin. She stared into the child's terrified
eyes.
"What part of no bedroom didn't you
get? She sleeps on the floor. I swear, I don't know why I put up
with you. Eating my food, destroying my house-"
She ranted as she closed
the bedroom door behind her. After her footsteps disappeared down
the hall Tiffany climbed off her bed and hugged Sara around the
shoulders. Sara sobbed as she put a hand over Tiffany's.
"You shouldn't have dropped that
dish," Carrie said. "You should have been more careful."
Sara looked at Carrie,
fury in her red eyes. She shouted and ran toward Carrie. Tiffany
kept her arms locked around Sara, slowing her down as she neared
the bed. Carrie curled into a ball near the headboard.
"Get away from me!"
"Shhh!" Tiffany said. "Miss Simmons
will hear!"
Sara balled her fist and slammed it
down on Carrie's bed. She had been with Miss Simmons longer than
anyone. Tiffany knew it was hard for her, like it was hard for all
of them. Sara skulked across the room and sat on the floor next to
Tiffany's bed.
"You can have my bed,"
Tiffany said.
"Didn't you hear what Miss Simmons
said?"
"I'm running away."
Sara and Carrie traded
looks as the plucky eight-year-old dropped to her hands and knees
and pulled items from under her bed. A pair of shorts, sunglasses,
a hair clip. Also her two most prized possessions, her digital
camera and photo album.
"Do you remember the last time you
tried to run away?" Carrie asked.
Tiffany remembered. Miss
Simmons found her not even an hour later, two blocks from the
house. The discipline was severe. Tiffany had to spend an entire
day locked in the
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