bladeless1

Dave's bed was an old army for in the basement, and his clothes were torn and ranch. when his mother allowed him the luxury of food, it was nothing more than spoiled scraps that even dogs refused to eat. the outside world knew nothing of his living nightmare. he had nothing and no one to turn to, but his dreams kept him alive-dreams of someone taking care of him,loving him and calling him their son. 
Through each struggle you'll find yourself enduring his pain, comforting his loneliness and fighting for his will to survive. This compelling story will awaken you to the truth about child abuse-and the ability we all have to make a difference.

A CHILD CALLED

Again she smiles and takes a clipboard from the top of a cabinet. She flips though a page or two, then bends down to show me. "Here," she points to the paper, "you said that last Monday. Remember?"


I quickly change my story, "I was playing baseball and got hit bye the bat. It was an accident." Accident. I am always supposed to say that. but the nurse knows better. She scolds me so I'll tell the truth. I always break down in the end and confess, even though I feel I should protect my mother.


The nurse tells me that I'll be fine and asks me to take off my clothes. We have been doing this since last year, so I immediately obey. my long sleeve shirt has more holes than swiss cheese. It's the same shirt I've worn for about two years. Mother has me wear it every day as her way to humiliate me. My pants are just as bad, and my shoes have holes in the toes. I can wiggle my big toe out of one of them. While I stand clothed only in my underwear, the nurse records my various marks and bruises on the clipboard.


part 3