Chapter One: Nick-Knock

It only takes a nick to unravel the fabrics of a life.

It was a normal day when they came; the men in black suits, with their gold-badged buddies following behind.

 

My mother was at home, busy with laundry and her last bundle of joy. My brother, sister, and I were just getting up from our naps, warned to not wake the baby with our impending play.

 

Business as usual in the house of ours; Dad was at work, like he was meant to be at this time of day. It was a generally happy time for a child, age five. I remember playing with a plastic baseball bat, and seeing a soccer ball on the floor, just about the time we heard the banging on the door. I can't remember what our house smelled like right then, but it was probably laundry sheets. There were six people in our family, one of whom was a baby, so my mom was always doing laundry.

 

I had to put proper pants on, while my mom looked out of our front room window to see who was at our door.

 

There were a bunch of men outside; Men in black suits with ties, and men who wore officer uniforms. When my mom opened the door, she said that dad was at work, but they looked for him anyway.

 

I remember that the officers were looking everywhere, even in our backyard, while a mean-looking man talked to my mom. Being five, my understanding of the conversation was mostly taken from the facial expressions.

 

            What are you doing? Why are you here? Who are you?

 

Those were the words that my mothers face screamed so loudly above the words she was actually saying to the man. One of the men, the quiet one who didn't say much, told her that we had to leave with them.

 

That was when the 'uh-oh' alarm sounded off in my head.

 

The really tall man made me angry. He was smiling at me, while I watched my mom stand there and cry. Did he think it was funny to make her sad like that? It wasn't even a nice smile. It made me want to kick him in the shin, or hit him with my plastic bat. I knew that would only get me in trouble, though.

 

My grandma came to help my mom, because she didn't know what to do. She told mom that we had to pack; we were leaving with those mean men.

 

I remember hugging my mom while she filled my 'I'm going to Grandma's' suitcase. It was blue, and had a little girl with blonde hair on the front of it. I didn't like that my mom was sad, or that we had to leave her.

 

The baby was a month old, to the day, but they still took him away. My sister was nearly one, my brother was edging towards three, and I was making my way to five. The eldest of the kids and even I couldn't understand what was happening.

 

I remember how my brother and sister cried when we got into the men's white van; it had a huge gold badge on the side of it, just like the officer's uniforms. I remember how the baby slept blissfully through the whole commotion. I remember how I couldn't comfort my brother or sister, I couldn't tell them it was okay, because I didn't know that it was.

 

That was the day the men in black took us away.

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Confusing.

 

The one word that could sum up that entire day for me was, confusing. I was five years old, and I’d never left home overnight for anything other than a sleepover at my grandmother’s house. And these men, who I’d never seen before in my life, were telling me I had to leave with them.

 

I don’t remember crying that much over it to begin with. I remember being quiet, though. I don’t think I really knew how to handle what was happening. It was like something out of a Law & Order episode; except we didn’t have an Olivia coming to the rescue.

 

Have you ever seen a foreign film, with no subtitles? The feeling you get when you don’t understand something that seems so important to those around you, but you can’t figure it out no matter how hard you try- That was the feeling I had.

 

When I watch our old home videos, I seemed like a happy kid, even after the whole fiasco. My siblings didn’t seem to be depressed or scarred, but I chock that up to the fact that our parents made sure we knew it wasn’t our fault, and that by God’s grace, we didn’t experience many things that would have a serious negative impact on us.

 

The three men, who spoke to my mom that afternoon, were social workers. The tall man was Mark Gagan; even years after the event, we saw him driving his fancy car down the highway a couple of times.

 

The quiet man was also a social worker; he was the one who drove the big white van. I don’t remember very much about him, except that he wore a white shirt instead of a suit.

 

And the last man was an intern named Rodney. I still don’t understand why he would attend a field job in such a sensitive case, when he obviously had no professional training in the area.

 

Unfortunately though, not even half of the story has been told.

Author's Note

Current revised version of the first chapter.

Since this is a memoir, part of the story will be what I remember as a five year old, and how I reflect on it now (eleven years later). After I've written more of this, I will probably go though and clean it up a bit, leaving the childish language in the memory-bits, and the more "grown-up" language in what I think now.

Reviews and ratings welcome/appreciated.

Reviews

[Summer D.]

I want to say ' beautiful ' but I don't know if it's appropriate for me to say that. I wouldn't call a memory like this beautiful but how you portrayed it brings tears to my eyes. I devoured this like I would my favorite fiction novel or one of my ' guilty-pleasures ' a YA romance. I don't think I want to know what happens next but I will probably read regardless.

Whether fiction or non-fiction, you have an amazing talent for writing and I implore you not to misuse it. Make a change in someone's life one day... etc...

On the cheery side, I've got a box of tissues right here. I don't have to stumble out my room blindly looking for them.

YT,

Bellita

[Raven Starhawk]

This has something about it I cannot quite put my finger on but am addicted to reading nevertheless. I find your writing style well honed.

[Tasha Thompson]

You did very well portraying a child's fear. The mind-state was great. I know what you're thinking--well I experienced it, so of course I have it down pat! But really, there are a lot of people who have a hard time conveying their own simple emotions. There were only the smallest things--you use semi-colons very well, but there are certain places where a comma should have been put in place instead, or an m-dash. And there is one case that I noticed, when you were talking about your mother's face, and you accidentally left out the possessive.
Great job. I enjoyed this a lot.

[Jasmine Thousand]

I'm really not affected by anything unless it's really powerful (seriously I've only cried over a movie once, and I hardly laugh at all when reading the comics)
But this was amazing. To me the saddest thing is when a young child loses their entire family in a single day (which just so happens to be the theme of the above movie) POST MORE SOON THE SUS{ENSE IS KILLING ME!!!
*sobs wildly and runs into a wall*

yeah, no boxes of tissues next to my bed!

~jasmine thousand~

[Ami N.]

This is an interesting piece. Interesting as in it's actually real - that's what really caught my attention. Although I am kinda confused at this point about some parts, I guess it'll make sense when I continue reading. Usually books start out slow, but yours grabbed my attention right from the start. Nice beginning :) can't wait to read more!

[~Dragon X]

Mai eyes were laik dis dee entiure taime:
O.O

Very good. Kept my interest. :D I wanna know what happens next!

[Desiree S.]

Wow, reading these chapters usually don't keep me interested, but yours did! I totally want to read more!

Amazing! :)