It was the third time I had been summoned to the residence in two months. This was a surprise visit. When I knocked on the door and it opened, the parents were all smiles.
“Ms. Stevens, so nice to see you again.”
“I’m sure. May I come in?”
I conducted my inspection as thoroughly as any other home. They were squeaky clean, which meant they were hiding something. I went to have my chats with the children. Masey was three and a half: she wouldn’t offer much. Lydia was six and promising, but Andy was eight and a pathological liar. I couldn’t blame him.
I started with Lydia. She skipped in and plopped on her bed. 20 minutes, cats and ponies, but nothing seemed suspect. Next, Andy. In 20 minutes he had become the school president, but again nothing seemed suspect. Last, little Masey. 10 minutes and nothing unusual, until she slid off the bed to leave and her ankle length dress caught on the covers. The slip up revealed a large welt across her thighs and upper calf, likely made with a belt or handle of some sort. So, that was it, someone lost their temper on the baby again.
I recorded this in my notes then excused myself to phone in for back up. Since this wasn’t the first incident, the kiddos would have to be taken, at least overnight, to allow a thorough investigation of what happened. A daycare worker was called in who stated the accident had taken place on their playground equipment. The children were given back the next morning.
Two weeks later. I was at the hospital. Masey had a broken arm and a concussion, she was sedated when I arrived. No matter how hard I tried, that family could never be fixed.
Story Bandit: We dare you to write a 299-word story using this ending: That family could never be fixed. #writingdare
Subliminal Quibbles 