Chapter 6
Chapter Six
SILENT BOY
Twenty-Four Years Ago
Istood up and lifted my arms to bang on the window, but the glimmer of hope soon drifted from my body, as I felt the weight of a heavy man behind me, restraining my arms and pulling me out of sight.
I didn’t want to be hidden.
I wanted him to see me.
He had to know I was here.
I trusted him, and he’d said he’d come to get me. Here he was. This was all going to be over soon.
The stench of stale coffee on his bad breath made me recoil as Harold, one of the men here, whispered in my ear, “Now, now, then. Let’s not cause a scene. You need to be fucking quiet, something I know you’re good at.”
I didn’t want to be quiet now, though. Officer Dan was walking towards the gate to the house.
Soon, he’d be at the front door. I wanted to shout that he’d found me.
That I was ready to leave. I hated it here.
But a sweaty hand clamped over my mouth as he held me against him, just out of sight, but not out of earshot.
There was a little window open, and I could hear their voices outside. I tried to bite his hand, get him off me so I could shout, but he was stronger than I was, and his hand was like a vice over my face.
“Can I help you?” Mr. Wilson asked as he stood at the front door.
“I’m Officer Walters. I’ve come to see one of your boys.”
“We don’t let visitors in without an appointment, I’m afraid. Do you have an appointment booked?”
That was rubbish. There were people coming and going from this house all the time. No one had an appointment.
“I’m a police officer. I’m enquiring about one of the boys involved in a case we’re dealing with. I don’t need an appointment.”
My heart raced with hope.
“And which boy would that be?” Wilson asked.
“His name is Isaiah Dalton.”
Yes.
That’s me.
That was my name.
Then, my heart sank as I listened to the response Wilson gave him.
“He’s not here anymore. He’s been sent to a foster home.”
“Where? Can you give me the address?” Officer Dan asked.
“You know I can’t do that,” Wilson replied. “It’s against our data protection policy. And yes, I know you’re police, but if you want that information, you’ll have to go through the official channels to obtain it. I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”
There was silence for a minute. The sound of the street outside was all I could hear, the hum of the traffic, the buzz from workmen’s tools far away, the swish of the breeze, and then Officer Dan spoke.
“Is he happy?”
No. I’m not. I’m hurt and scared, and I want to leave this place. I thought home was bad sometimes, when my dad got mad, but this is so much worse.
“Yes,” Wilson lied. “He’s with a family with two kids his own age. A family dog too. Nice area. I think they’re looking to adopt him. He’s landed on his feet.”
Another beat of silence and then, “That’s good. I’m glad. I just wanted to make sure he was okay. I promised I’d visit him, you see, and I didn’t want to let him down.”
“He probably doesn’t even remember. I wouldn’t worry. He’s in a good place now.”
“I tried to go to the hospital,” Officer Dan added.
“But they wouldn’t let me see him there.
I’ve called here a few times, too, but it’s been like trying to get into Fort Knox trying to access this place or get any information.
I haven’t been assigned to the case, but it’s still on my mind, you know?
But thank you for being honest with me. Like you said, he’s in a better place and that’s good.
It’s great. That’s exactly what I wanted for him.
I hope he gets the counselling he needs and that he’s happy. ”
“I’m sure he will,” Wilson replied.
No.
I wasn’t.
I wasn’t getting anything other than hurt and tormented. I hated my life.
My stomach grew heavy when I heard footsteps on the path, growing quieter as they moved farther away from the house. The knots in my tummy twisted tighter as the slam of a car door and the rev of an engine filled the air.
“See,” Harold hissed in my ear, forcing goosebumps of fear and repulsion to prickle on my skin. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He shoved me forward, throwing me to the floor as he cackled to himself, “See you later tonight, Isaiah.”
I ignored the way his threat made my insides squeeze hard, and instead, I crawled over to the window.
Officer Dan was still sitting in his car outside. He hadn’t pulled away yet.
I didn’t care if Harold was still in the room, I banged my fist on the window and shouted, “Help,” hoping Officer Dan would hear me. But he didn’t. Instead, he put his head forward, resting it on the steering wheel of his car, and his shoulders began to shake.
“Help!” I kept shouting, pounding my fist on the glass as hard as I could. I had to take this chance. They’d come in and drag me away soon.
But Officer Dan couldn’t hear me. He lifted his head and ran his hands over his face. Then he slowly pulled away from the kerb.
It was over.
I sat back, feeling the throb of pain in my hands from banging on the window and the sting in my heart from the loss of hope.
He said he’d come for me. But no one was going to save me. It was all over now. I had no hope. I had nothing. No one. Only myself.