I was a Mistake

Day Two

"Given the hardships that Eden has faced, I would say it is perfectly logical for her to have spent most of her life mute." Mr. Franklin had asked the psychiatrist I had been seeing for months, Dr. Drena if my behavior was typical of a child in an abusive situation.

"Children that have been abused tend to have distinct signs that help us pinpoint what is happening. Eden first came to me as a little girl who appeared small and terrified. She does not talk, in fact, we've spent the better part of these few months sitting and staring at each other, doing puzzles and playing games. I am a doctor that specializes in young abuse victims and Eden had all of the signs. She shakes uncontrollably when left alone with me, any form of advancement toward her results in her jumping away, she does not look into my eyes, she curls in on herself. I believe wholeheartedly that Eden is a child of abuse."

It had been two hours since the start of day two and each new witness that stood up to speak had something to say that helped my case. The cross-examinations proved to be brutal. Mr. Ronald would find loopholes and call out anything that could be examined further. For example, my doctor spoke about how small I was and how behind on the growth charts I stood. Mr. Ronald would rear back and exclaim with bursts of power that sometimes kids were small no matter what care they received and he'd prove it with evidence, making it seem like I made the story up.

But for each step back, there were two steps forward. My doctor replied, "While that may be true, there is no denying that Eden obviously wasn't getting any form of nutrition throughout her childhood based on her size and the tests that she was given. Eden had evidence of broken bones that had she been properly cared for, would have been treated in the hospital."

During a well-deserved break, my lawyer assured me, "Eden, this man has no ground to stand on. He is grasping at words that are barely relevant and at this point is just trying to reduce the sentence Mrs. Morrison will receive. You are doing very well and being incredibly strong. Mrs. Winters will testify next and then Mrs. Morrison will take the stand. I believe that will be all the witnesses we need."

I worried about Mrs. Winters testifying. She didn't deserve to be put through this type of taxing job. I had spent the previous day after the trial resting in bed, my entire body fatigued and worn down. I felt guilty Mrs. Winters was going to be doing this just for me. She had been crying all morning because more evidence of my suffering and the words of the witnesses was proving to be too much for her. I didn't want things to get worse when Mr. Ronald tried to tear her down. The only thing worse than Mrs. Winters talking would be Noah having to be a witness, and I thanked Jesus he didn't need to.

"I'd like to call Angela Winters to the stand." Mr. Franklin sounded strong and ready to continue the trial when I felt the exact opposite. Mrs. Winters stood up and walked with more confidence than I could ever muster and stood in front of the man with a Bible. She was sworn to the truth and she took her seat next to the judge.

"Mrs. Winters, what is your relationship to Eden Morrison?" Mr. Franklin asked. Mrs. Winters smiled warmly at me.

"I am her foster parent and guardian, sir."

"Fucking bitch!" my birth mother's voice resonated throughout the courtroom, scaring me. "I hope she's a bigger burden to you than she was to me." Mr. Ronald attempted to quiet her.

"Mrs. Morrison, I suggest you stifle your comments before you ruin your case entirely," Judge Hausman's harsh voice shot back.

"Right, so, Mrs. Winters, when did you start suspecting Eden was being abused?" Mr. Franklin questioned.

"I have known Eden for almost five years and she has always been skittish. The first day she came to our house, I remember her little eyes growing large with fear when she realized she was late to get home. I understand children fear a slap to the bottom when they disobey, but Eden looked like she knew the world was coming to an end. She wore clothes that covered her body, even when I could tell she was warm. Those clothes were tattered, dirty, and always too big. She was a dirty little thing, always caked in grime," she grimaced and her eyes looked so sad.