Cutler 01 - Dawn

It was as though he were hypnotized and didn't see me standing there. "Daddy, tell them this isn't true; tell them it's all been a horrible mistake." He started to speak to me, but shook his head and looked down instead.
    "Daddy!" I screamed again when I felt someone's hands on my shoulders. "Please, don't let them take us all away!"
    Why wasn't he doing anything? Why didn't he show some of his temper and strength? How could he let this go on?
    "Come on, Dawn," I heard someone say behind me. The door to the room Daddy was instarted to close. He looked up at me.
    "I'm sorry, honey," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."
    Then the door was closed.
    "Sorry?" I pulled out of the grip on my shoulders and pounded on the door. "Sorry? Daddy? You didn't do what they said, you didn't!"
    The grip on my shoulders was firmer this time. Officer Dickens pulled me back.
    "Let's go, Dawn. You've got to go."
    I turned and looked into his face, the tears streaming down my own.
    "Why didn't he help me? Why did he just sit there?" I asked.
    "Because he's guilty, honey. I'm sorry. You've got to go now. Come on."
    I looked back at the closed door once. It felt as if I had a hole in my chest where my heart had been. My throat ached and my legs felt wobbly. Officer Dickens practically carried me to the front door of the police station, where Officer Carter was waiting with my little suitcase.
    "I threw whatever I thought was yours into this suitcase," she explained. "There didn't seem to be that much."
    I stared down at it. My little suitcase, how I used to take such care packing it so I could get everything I owned into it for our frequent journeys from one world to another. Suddenly panic seized my heart. I went to my knees and opened it to search the little compartment. When my fingers found Momma's picture, I breathed relief. I cradled it in my hands and then pressed it to my bosom. Then I stood up. They started me forward again.
    "Wait," I said stopping. "Where's Jimmy?"
    "He's already gone to a home for wayward children until he gets placed," Officer Carter said.
    "Placed? Placed where?" I asked frantically. "With a foster family who might adopt him," she said.
    "And Fern?" I held my breath.
    "Same thing," she said. "Let's go. We have a long ride."
    Jimmy and little Fern must be so frightened, not knowing what lay ahead of them. Was this all my fault—all because of me? Fern had been calling out for Momma, and now she would be calling out for me.
    "But when will I see them? How will I see them?" I looked to Patrolman Dickens. He shook his head. "Jimmy . . . Fern . . . I must see them . . . please."
    "It's too late. They're gone," Patrolman Dickens said softly. I shook my head. Officer Carter moved me forward to the waiting patrol car. Patrolman Dickens took my suitcase from her and put it into the car trunk. Then he got in behind the steering wheel quickly, and the other policeman opened the rear door for me and Officer Carter. He didn't say anything.
    Officer Carter directed me into the backseat. Between the backseat and the front seat was a metal grate, and the doors had no handles on them. I couldn't get out until someone opened the doors. I was like a criminal being transported from one jail to another. Officer Carter was on my right and the second patrolman was on my left.
    The speed with which it was all happening kept me in a daze. I didn't start to cry again until the patrol car shot off and I realized Daddy, Jimmy and Fern were really gone and I was all alone, being carried off to another family and another life. A panic came over me when I understood what was about to happen. When would I ever see Daddy again, or Jimmy, or little Fern?
    "It isn't fair," I muttered. "This isn't fair." Officer Carter heard me.
    "Imagine how your real parents must have felt when they discovered you were missing—that their employees had taken you and run off? Think that was fair?"
    I stared at her and shook my head. "It's a mistake," I muttered.
    How could my daddy and mommy have done such a terrible thing to someone? Daddy . . . steal me from another family? Not care about that mother's sorrow and that father's pain?
    And Momma with all her stories and memories of us growing up . . . Momma working so hard so that we would have enough . . . Momma getting sicker and thinner, but not caring about herself as long as Jimmy and I and Fern had clothes to wear and food to eat. Momma knew sorrow and tragedy from her own life. How could she hurt some other