Chapter 1
Cry Of Loneliness
It was morning before I first woke; I was alone, and my door was open. The sun was just rising over the mountains casting shadows across the valley floor. I watched as I lay there, staring out my window. Wondering what it would be like to feel the sun on my back, feel the fresh breeze through my hair and the soft black dirt sifting through my toes, but most of all, what it would be like to be free. Free to choose who my parents were, free to make my own choices, and free from the fear that holds me prisoner.
Breakfast came and went, having no appetite. I ate only a couple of bites, pushing it away and closed my eyes; letting the pain soothe me and letting the soft tears fall down my cheeks. No one said a word about last night; least not to me anyway, as they watched me like a hawk, making sure I didn't hurt myself. Little did they know it was the second time in my life that I had tried. I wanted to laugh, but it felt better to cry, so I did, rolling over so I could into my pillow. Letting my sobs rack my body.
They changed my bandages two hours later. I screamed when they pulled the gauze sealed to my skin and when they were done; I cried some more, letting the pain medicine put me back to sleep. Lunch came, and it sat there untouched. My eyes fixated on the window hearing the nurse telling me I needed to eat, while I shook my head no. No one came to visit, except the nurses to give me pain medicine, take my temperature and blood pressure. Asking if I needed anything as they walked me to my bathroom, leaving the door open and changed my bed while I wasn't in it.
The hours ticked by as I laid there silently looking out the window or watched TV or slept the day away. They had sent an early dinner thinking I might be hungry as it too remained untouched. No one had come to see me until later that night, but it was none of the Rothwell family. Instead, it was my Bishop. (Whom I have stated early on.)
Bishop Henry Lanwall was a kind man as he stood less than six feet tall. Dark brown hair which was graying on the side of his head shaped like a round melon. He had brown eyes that reminded me of chocolate almonds not quite round with dark centers under his bushy eyebrows and long straight button nose. When he smiled, it seemed to light the room. He reminded me of young Alfred Hitchcock with hair with broad shoulders and pudgy, but no means fat. His daytime occupation was a local bank president at First Security Bank in American Fork, Utah, before they all became Wells Fargo.
I watched him pull a chair close to me and hearing the door close for our privacy as if I was in his office. He didn't say a word, waiting for me to speak first. I knew why he was here; someone must have called him and told him what I tried to do. We both sat there listening to the silence as I closed my eyes so I wouldn't see him. He didn't move except make himself comfortable. It was him that made the first move, taking my hand and asking me. "It wasn't a skating board accident, was it?" He waited for me to answer. I knew he knew, but he wanted confirmation.
I shook my head and whispered no. He sighed as if he was the one carrying the weight on his shoulders. Asking me if they threatened me not to tell? My tears confirmed my answer as I sobbed. "They said. I told you and my caseworker. But I didn't, and they don't believe me. When I came home, they warned me I would face punishment for it." He took me in his arms and let me cry as he held me, soothing me. Being careful with my back; when I was done, he laid me against my pillow.
We both knew I needed proof, but we didn't have any. It was my word against theirs. I also knew even with pictures family courts would dismiss it; as they had done with my father and my mother. No one listens to the child; we are not important unless we died from the abuse, then they are quick to do something. For now, all he could do was comfort me as he sat there and watched over me all night long.
My fever spiked once again that night as they cooled me in the tub, running cool water down my back and chest. Not once did they leave me alone as Bishop Lanwall sat watching the empty room? Watching the nurses attend to me, refusing to leave my side. He didn't force me to pray; he didn't force me to talk unless I wanted to. When I woke screaming in the middle of the night; he would hold me as the memories washed over me. When he left me, it was never more than an hour or two; taking up his spot near my bed as we watched the sunrise and the sunset together.
My Scout Master… Brother Nile's. Mr. Scott. T. for Thomas Nile's; an older chap in his mid-seventies was taller than Dad at Seven feet three. Gray silver hair and thinning. Bright blue eyes with aristocratic nose and bold chin. Have been told he likes to run or jog before sunup and lift weights at a local gym to keep in shape three days a week. He once was a Fireman for the American Fork Fire Department. Now retired after twenty- five years of service, his wife Clara had died from cancer five years ago this past March.
He had arrived before dawn trading places with Bishop Lanwall so he could go home and get some rest. Stated he would be back and had left orders at the desk not to let Mr. Mrs. Rothwell near me, unsupervised at any time. Brother Nile's and I watched the window as if it was the only thing in the room that fascinated us. Not saying much regarding the Rothwells but listening to the silence.
You would never know how silent the world could be, yet it was peaceful. It was brother Nile's that broke the silence; asking about my life before I came to live with the Rothwells. I asked, "What he wanted to know," said. "It could be a long story."
He laughed said. "He had nothing but time." pulling the chair closer to me. I said nothing regarding Jeff except to say I watched him die when I opened that accursed door.
When I cried, he held me in his arms and comforted me. He didn't judge me; He listened when I was done. Because of his curiosity and eagerness to delve deeper into the subject, I wasted no time in sharing all the details with him. He asked me if I would like to call my grandmother. I nodded and said, "I would like to, but they didn't allow me, not even by mail."
He frowned and said, "He wasn't going to tell anybody that including the Bishop unless I said it was ok."
I nodded said, "nobody else but him and the Bishop," begging him.
He promised said. "Scout's honor" and we shook on it.
Pa always said you can judge a man by a handshake if he would keep the deal or a promise and by looking them in the eye. Said if they turned away before you did and ending the handshake; he would break that promise. Brother Nile's did neither. Letting me break the contact first, he told me he was going to find a wheelchair and phone. He placed a pillow for my back and a blanket over my legs and feet. While he and the nurse wheeled me and my friend Mr. I.V. drip down to the desk. I gave them the number, and he waited for my grandmother to come to the phone. Saying who he was, and that I was in the hospital, and I wanted to talk to her.
I could hear my grandmother crying as he told her I was fine, and I had just had a bad fever because of an infection. She asked if she could talk to me, so he hands me the phone. Stepping away, letting me have my privacy and talked to my nurse about my care. Telling them he would be here until Bishop Lanwall came back sometime tomorrow. While I talked and cried over the phone, telling her everything that had happened; what my father and mother did. Telling her I didn't run away, and she believed me. Told me the Downings were still trying to contact my parents and pushing for the adoption with little success.
She said they had left a plane ticket for me if I ever surfaced; in hopes they could still smuggle me out of the country. Asking me which hospital I was in. I said I wasn't sure, so I asked gave her the information. Said she would be there in a few hours if she had to tear the place down brick by brick to see me. I nodded, wiping my tears telling her I was being watched round the clock. Said she had been told about the restriction and didn't care if she was breaking the rules. Using some of my Aunty M's cuss' words, which made me laugh, missing her even more. I told her I loved her and missed her and hung up the phone and thanked the nurse, as I waited for them to wheel me back to my room, finding a small feast waiting for me. Telling brother Nile's too makes sure I ate every last bite.
He nodded rubbed my head said he would, or my grandmother would turn me over her knee. I smiled at the thought and knowing she still might, taking big bites as they watched. It was almost ten at night and way past visiting hours when my grandmother walked in the door with Doctor Whitmore at her side. If I could have, I would have leaped out of bed into their arms. Instead, I cried as they came to me.
Brother Nile's introduced himself as they all shook hands while Doctor Whitmore talked with the nurse regarding my care and injuries. Grandma rolled me over to see it firsthand. Cussing loudly, demanding to know how it happened. I looked at brother Nile's; he nodded it was ok and I could trust him. So, I told her everything, how Mr. Rothwell whipped me twice and with a long cattail whip made from leather strapping, how his wife tried to drown me in the tub. How they forced me to lie to the Bishop regarding my sins. I told her everything, knowing I could never lie to my grandmother, feeling the weight lift off my shoulders.
She was angry as she paced back and forth. Saying fowl thing she would like to do to my parents and what she would like to do my new foster parents. Mr. Whitmore, stating they had them by the balls. Saying we needed more proof than simple pictures to prove our case this time. Being watched just makes it harder. Brother Nile's leaned against the wall as he listened, saying it was his fault for not acting sooner to what was really going on in that home. Grandma didn't say he was wrong, except what we can do about it now.
No one had the answers as the room remained silent as I watched them as my teeth chattered. I didn't need them to take my temperature. I knew it was spiking again. The nurse took it anyway. Telling Doctor Whitmore and my grandmother that it was 102 and climbing, Grandma cussing, saying it's always bad at night as if evil was in the night. They didn't waste time as Doctor Whitmore carried me to the tub and Grandma bathed me. Getting a better look at my back cringing and knowing it was not a skateboarding accident, telling me she could see the long lines of the whip trailing down my back and shoulders. As I screamed in pain as they removed the wet gauze and the bandage from my back, feeling the heat radiate from it.
I laid there holding my Grandma's hand as they cleaned my wounds crying against the bed. Modesty was the furthest from my mind as grandma wiped the fresh blood with a cloth down my sides and down the lower parts of my body; asking for a warm blanket to cover me as I shivered in the cold on my stomach.
I waited as the pain medicine slowly took the pain away as I settled in for the long night, begging my grandmother not to leave me shushing me saying. Wild horses couldn't pull her away from me after waiting months and weeks to hear from me. She let me fall asleep before she got off the bed, leaving me on my stomach with several warm blankets.
When I had woken just before dawn on that Thursday morning; brother Nile's was sitting talking with my grandmother over a hot cup of soup from the hospital cafeteria. Regarding what to do; apparently, the nurse said it didn't look good as things stood. That I wouldn't be going home anytime soon, as long as my fever and infection remained. In some ways, that was a good thing but was also a bad thing too; school would start the following Monday, and once again I would start late. Then going back to that home did nothing to brighten my day.
Grandma must have heard me groan as she quickly came to my bedside. Leaning down to kiss my cheek; telling me it would be best if I stayed on my stomach until after they changed the bandages again. Saying my doctor had ordered it to be done more often to kill the infection. I nodded that I understood. While she quickly called the nurses to tell them I was awake. Because of my persistently high fever, they assisted me to the bathroom, allowing me to take care of my needs while they ran the tub. I had to promise them I wouldn't try it again or they have my grandmother sit in here to make sure. I wanted to laugh, but grandma made me promise. She knew I would never break my promises, and that brought her satisfaction.
After the sound of the toilet flushing, I hopped into the tub and declared my readiness. Grandma watched as they gently fanned me, offering a comforting smile now and then. A warm feeling spread through me, lifting the loneliness, and a smile crept onto my face. Until a nurse just had to ruin my day; said that Mrs. Rothwell was on her way up, demanding to see me. I knew Grandma had to leave before she showed up. Grandma didn't budge until brother Nile's told her he would send someone for her after she left; said it would only make matters worse for me if she found her here.
Grandma left as brother Nile's stayed to protect me. I still shook with fear, even with his protection. As I waited for my certain doom as he whispered. "Nobody here is going to say a word," smiling while he took his fingers and zipped them across his lips. The nurse did the same to make me feel better. She too knew like most the nurses on the floor knew it wasn't a skateboarding accident, but they had their own ideas how it happened. The other secret was about my grandmother visiting me and was still here.
Mom came into the room as the nurse gave her a hard stare and said. "He is taking a bath at the moment," Mom noticing the empty bed and the bathroom door open. Nurse told her I was running high all night long, and this was my third one. Mom asking if I would still come home on Friday. The nurse said. "So far it doesn't look promising, but I'll send the doctor in so you can talk with him."
Mom nodded and stood in the doorway taking a step back seeing brother Nile's helping the nurse to dry me off asking. "What are you doing here, and with my son?"
Brother Nile's said. "I was called by Bishop Lanwall yesterday to watch over him while he attended to other matters until he came back."
Mom's voice faltered. "He was here as well?" Brother Nile's nodded as he lifted me off the floor and carried me back to bed. Letting my gown drape over me and helped me roll over on my stomach under the covers; taking his seat by the bed while Mom stared at both of us. I knew she was angry, feeling a certain calm came over the room. Within minutes, the doctor was here. It saddened me that Doctor Whitmore wasn't here as my doctor, but 'if wishes were fishes. Everyone would have one.'
My Doctor informed her that my injuries were quite serious, that it would be least another week, if not longer. Until I would be able to come home and have taken measure to ensure my safety to prevent me from harming myself further.
She told him to back up a minute restating. "Harming himself?"
I cringed as he told how I tried drowning myself. Her eyes zeroed in on me. Asking when did this happen and why nobody had called her? He looked at the chart and said. "Monday night, after your family visited him. We thought it was best not to inform you, but instead we called your Bishop. Considering you and your husband might have been the cause. Until then, your Bishop has ordered that he or Mr. Nile's will supervise every visit. Or someone he can trust regarding to his care while he is here." Mom gasped, looking from one person to the other as her world collapsed around her.