Everything Has Changed

Six

In the afternoon of the next day, I stand up from the couch. I'm home alone, and I don't think anyone locked the front doors.

Mom's at work dealing with snobby second graders, Dad's delivering the new Redmond baby, the fifth one in five years, also the fifth boy, Trent took Laylah to daycare after dropping Sam off at the community college so she can get caught up in all her classes and he has work in ten minutes at the Railroad company. Zander's at his little cousin's, Amy, soccer game.

And Michael's in the Bahamas with his parents and the rest of his family plus his girlfriend of three months, Miranda Ellis; she was the new girl last year.

I decided to stay home in my pjs rewatching Saved by the Bell and Missy has been laying on my lap on the couch in the living room.

She's very protective of me, and now she's standing at the door, growling and barking. I cautiously grab Missy and run to my room, locking my bedroom door and grabbing my phone off of my bed and hiding us in my closet.

I open iMessage and text David Jenkins.

As I start silently typing, the intruder can be heard rummaging through the kitchen and living room.

Me: David, there's an intruder in the house. Me and Missy are hiding in my locked bedroom, what should I do?

Almost immediately, he responds: You still have that taser I gave you last year after we rescued the girls and my granddaughter? Use it and I'll be over in five seconds.

I silently unlock and open my bedroom door, taser in hand and Missy at my feet. "Hey! Drop the cookie jar!" I yell at the intruder, who's in the kitchen, back turned to me, putting the cookie jar in his bag. I quickly run down the stairs when he's not looking.

He turns around and the taser goes off, sending him to the floor, twitching and screaming. The cookie jar falls on the floor, shattering into thousands of pieces.

Just like he said, David is bursting through the doors, putting the suspect into handcuffs. "That taser alerts me and every police officer in this town when it's being used. Let's see what this man looks like," David says, bending down and pulling off the ski mask. When he pulls off the mask, my first thought is that he's hideous.

"John Simmons, we've been looking all over for you. You decided to break out of San Diego county jail. Why?" The guy struggles at first to speak, so we wait a few minutes.

"B-Because. My kids are starving, man. I gotta feed 'em. Their mama don't do anything to take care of them," he says, and hands the bag to David. David then dumps all of the items out of the bag.

Toys, food, shoes. One big blanket. My blanket off the couch! "What are the kids' names? Where do they live?" I ask, as David investigates the items. "Leah, she's ten, Ashton, he's five, and Caleb is four months old. West Durin Street, 904 Becky avenue. Number 15. Live in those apartments," John says, before he loses consciousness.

David calls in another officer, Officer Adams, to take care of John and to put him in the back of the police car for breaking and entering, armed robbery, and theft.

Then David and I and Missy start heading to the apartment where the children are. "Suspect is detained, Chief Officer Jenkins." Officer Adams says once David and I leave my house, making sure all the doors are locked.

"Good. What'd you say your first name was, Officer Adams?" David says, a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

"Zachary, sir. Named after my grandfather, sir." Zachary says, with seriousness. "I heard you got yourself a girlfriend and a newborn daughter at home, son. Is that right?" David says, making a popping sound at the t on right.

"Yes sir, Catherine and Avery. My pride and joy, sir." Zachary says, leaning on the car door. "Well, Zachary, I give you full permission to leave your duties and go home to your family. We'll take it from here. Stop leaning on the door!" David screams, and Officer Zachary Adams mumbles a "yessir" before getting his own car from the Wal-Mart parking lot one street over and driving away.

We both get in the police car with Missy laying in my lap and John in the back, arms behind his back. We arrive first at the police station,  and David grabs John and takes him inside where he is motioned -more like forced- back into the interview room for questions. Then David gets back in the vehicle and drives towards the apartments.

"They're holding him for a few months until a court date is scheduled for his hearing. After that, he'll go into the slammer." David says, as we pull up to the apartments. We get out of the car and I recall the room number from mine and John's conversation.

"15. That's the room where the kids are." I say, and we walk up to the stairs into a door that has the number 15 painted onto the door. A cheery welcome mat is at my feet. That's not creepy, I think.

David busts the door open, only to see three dark rooms ahead of us and a smell that reeks of dog urine, human urine, and poop. David motions for Missy and I to follow him, and I do as I'm told, making sure Missy's leash is securely in my hands. The first room is -was- a living room. The ceilings are damp, the wallpaper is all written on. The couch is a nasty brown and yellow color, and there's glass everywhere.

"What kind of woman would live here?" I whisper towards David's figure in the shadows.

"An evil one. Amanda's been locked up for child abuse before. She was put on parole a couple years back. They gave her kids back to her, as all living relatives were either dead, locked up, or didn't want anything to do with the children," David says.

Once we pass the small and eerie living room, there's one bedroom, one bathroom, and no kitchen.

"I'm guessing the kitchen was torn out so that the bedroom could be bigger." I say, and David nods his head. Once we reach the bathroom opposite of the bedroom, we see it's not really a bathroom at all. A tub- a very, very dirty one at that- and a big bucket. I can tell that pee and poop reside in the bucket. We enter the bedroom and see an awful sight.

One medium size bed, full of fleas, and a crib for the baby. The woman, Amanda, is asleep in the bed. The girl and her brothers are reading a story in the crib. When the girl sees us, she screams and goes into hiding.

The boy, on the other hand, comes up to us. "Hello. Do you have any food?" Ashton says, holding out his filthy little hands. I hand him a bag full of canned goods, boxes of pop-tarts, and water bottles. Ashton goes back to where his older sister is hiding, under the bed.

"Leah, food." He says, and they immediately tear into the food, not bothering to breathe on each bite.

David checks Amanda's pulse and shakes his head. An opened empty bottle of penicillin resides beside her, as well as an empty bottle of beer. We hear shuffling behind the crib and open the door behind it to reveal a Pitt-bull chained to the wall, a male. I read his name tag; it reads "Hulk".

After hours of feeding, drinking and bathing, the children are ready to answer the questions. "Flea-bitten, malnourished, abused." David says to me after the hours of questioning.

"Leah and her brothers are being adopted next week by a family from Michigan; they can't have kids of their own and the dog, Hulk, is going with them. Amanda's body will be sent to the morgue for further evaluation, John is being convicted three days from now, and I gotta get this on file." He says, and walks away to his office. Missy and I walk to my car and we drive home.

Once we arrive back home, I fill Missy's food and water bowls up and see that everyone is back home. I check the time and see that it's 10 p.m. so Missy and I head up to my room so I can get a shower and get to bed.

Once out of the shower, I check my Instagram and look at all the posts from today and otherwise. I charge my phone up on the bedside table and fall back onto my bed.

Then Missy crawls onto my stomach as I fall into a dreamless sleep.