Finally Home

66. Samantha

We'd been home a couple of days already and my presents were still wrapped and under the tree. Mom and Dad kept asking if I wanted to open them but I wasn't sure I wanted to.  It sounds dumb, I know. But I just didn't feel Christmasy. The doctor who had us taken away had ruined the spirit of the holiday for me.  The first day home I just wanted to be with my parents with no other distractions.

And the nightmares were back. Maybe the worst they'd been in ages. I couldn't sleep. I was afraid of the images I'd see in my dreams. Stanley, the doctor, even Gillingham who really wasn't that scary, but at night, in my dreams, he may as well have been the Boogeyman.

But, I tried to hide it from Mom and Dad. They were worried about Rosie and I, and Rosie was still pretty clingy. Sometimes she'd come running to me because she couldn't find Mom or Dad and she'd be crying, asking if the 'bad people' were coming again.  I'd reassure her the 'bad people' weren't. But I didn't know that to be true. They'd come after my seizure in the airport. Even with an adoption order, a doctor had convinced DCS that we should be removed from Mom and Dad's care.  It didn't take much, and since I was just adopted, I supposed any social worker could take me at any time.  My family could unravel in mere seconds. I could find myself back in foster care on the word of just one person saying the wrong thing. Or not listening.

I couldn't hide my nightmares from Mom and Dad though. I tried, but when I'm asleep, I can't control how I react to them. So the screaming has Mom and Dad in my room.

Tonight, I'm just going to try and stay awake. If I don't sleep, I can't have a nightmare.

I went through the motions of getting ready for bed, but once Mom and Dad said goodnight and went to their room, I turned my lamp back on and pulled my computer onto my lap. I opened Netflix and started watching 'The Walking Dead'.

By 3 am, I was struggling to stay awake, so I got up and quietly went downstairs. I made a coffee in the Keurig and sat in the dark kitchen, looking out into the backyard and the softly falling snow.

I got up to put my cup in the dishwasher but then everything went completely black.

"Sam!  Sam, are you okay? What are you doing down here?"

Dad was looking down at me. I was lying on the kitchen floor. My head hurt and there was something wet on my arm. And my arm stung. But I couldn't quite form the words to explain what happened. I had no idea.

"What?" I asked.

"Samantha," Dad said, helping me sit up. He grabbed the dish towel off the dishwasher and pressed it to the back of my head. He took it away and I saw it was clean. He then took my right arm and I saw blood.

"What happened?!" I asked, shocked and concerned. Why was my arm bleeding?

Dad put the towel on my arm and applied pressure. I looked around. There was blood on the floor. And pieces of glass.

"Why am I on the floor?" I asked.

"That's what I'd like to know," Dad frowned.

"Ty? What's going on? What was that noise?  Sam! What happened?" Mom came running over. I shrugged. I didn't know.

"Sam, did you have a seizure?" Dad asked.

"I don't know," I said, tears forming in my eyes. My head hurt, my arm hurt, and I didn't know what happened.

"Shh, Shh, baby. It's okay," Dad said, pulling me into a hug.

Mom sat down on the floor beside me.

"Let me see that arm, huh?" She asked. She gently moved the towel.

"Ty, I think that needs stitches," she said.

"I don't want to go to the hospital!" I said. "It'll stop bleeding soon."

"Sam, it's bleeding really badly. It's really deep."

"No!" I exclaimed, starting to cry. "Please no! I don't want to go to the hospital!" 

"Sam, it'll be okay," Dad said soothingly, as he hugged me tight and rubbed my back. "But we really need to get that looked at."

"Please! No!" I cried harder. If we went to the hospital, what's to stop the doctor from thinking Mom or Dad cut my arm or something. Then they'll take me away again.

"Sam, you need stitches. And to have this properly cleaned. It'll be okay."

I sobbed. I couldn't get the words out to tell them why we can't go to the hospital.

"Jenna, stay here with Sam, I'm going to go change, grab my phone and I'll take her in."

I sobbed harder. They were going to take me away if we went to the hospital.

Mom wrapped her arms around me and talked soothingly to me but she didn't know. She didn't know that they'd take me away again. They'd have to.

Dad was back in a few minutes and Mom helped me stand up.

"It's going to be okay, sweetheart," Mom said as she walked me to the door. She helped me put on a jacket and boots as I continued sobbing.

"We'll get them to give you a pain killer, too, okay?" Dad said. That wasn't why I was crying.

Dad led me out to his car and he tried to reassure me I'd be fine. They didn't understand.

Dad told me to keep pressure on my arm as we drove to the hospital.  I did. But I didn't say a word to Dad. I just sat quietly trying not to cry. Although, Dad seemed to think I was crying from the pain.

"It's going to be okay, Sam," he said. "They'll give you something for the pain and get you all stitched up. You're going to be fine."

We pulled up to the emergency department and Dad parked. I reluctantly got out of the car and followed him inside.

I'd run if the social workers showed up.