I regretted it the second I dropped Eden off the day my son and Gabriel Morrison got into a fight. I knew that I would be putting her in a bad situation, but had no power to keep her safe. Eden shook quietly in the back seat of my car with a brave face. I'd prayed with everything I had for her to be safe, to be protected.
When I got the phone call from Shanie Morrison claiming Eden was very sick and would not return until she felt better, I fell to my knees. I wanted nothing less than to scream at the evil woman on the phone, to tell her I hoped she'd rot in hell. I knew Eden wasn't really sick, she was perfectly fine the night before.
I couldn't help but be reminded of the first time I'd ever seen Eden. It was Noah's first day of first grade. I remember his high pitched squeal at the sight of the tiny girl on the side of the road. Of course, I worried about her. She was obviously very little. She appeared to belong in daycare instead of her third year of elementary school. I wondered why she was alone on a busy street without any assistance. Noah had been talking about a little girl named Eden since Pre-K; I'd never thought she'd look like this.
She walked with a limp, her knobby legs moving very slowly down the sidewalk. She wore a dirty dress and off-white stockings. When Noah invited her into the car, her body shook like she was terrified. She was very pretty with curly, dark hair and large, haunted, green eyes, but there was no denying she was skin and bones. Each time one of my boys would talk or make a sudden movement aside from Noah, she'd jump and move closer to my youngest child.
I adored the precious girl immediately, feeling a desperate need to protect her.
Now, I wondered if they were feeding her. As a fifth grader, Eden had just begun to grow from being so malnourished, her body lengthening and gaining weight. I knew that if she wasn't eating, she'd end up right back at square one.
Although every one of us was distressed by Eden's absence, it had become almost impossible to comfort Noah. We all tried to hide the truth from him, told him she was sick, but after four days without his best friend, Noah knew something was very wrong. He began to cry, to beg for us to get her, screaming and misbehaving.
After a week of torture, of calling every day to check on her, of comforting an inconsolable Noah, and assuring things I could not promise, my husband and I decided we'd pay the Morrison's a visit. I don't think I slept more than three hours a night while she was gone, agonizing over when we could see her again. We had to at least try to see how she was doing. I made soup, her favorite when she was in pain, and we got Eden's school work and set off to the Morrison's house.
The house looked like it always did as if nobody lived there or cared enough to take care of it. The weeds grew to my shins and Aaron and I shuffled our way through the tall grass. I held on tight to his hand, worried about what we would find at the door.
We knocked and could hear shuffling from the inside and a distinct 'get in there'. I looked at Aaron for strength, knowing they were talking to Eden. Carl answered the door with a look of anger on his greasy, hawk-like features.
When Eden's sad excuse for a mother came to stand beside her boyfriend, I silently wished I could do violent things to her. I despised her and hated that this was the mother Eden was given. We didn't have any luck being let in to see Eden, but we handed them the soup and homework just in case they would give it to her. We went home, prayed, and wished for a miracle.
When Isaiah called my name in a panic and brought Eden home, it was all I could do to stay strong. When the paramedic grabbed at her, it was all I could do to stay upright. When my husband left with her in the ambulance, I finally broke down.
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At ten years old, four-foot-one, Eden weighed forty-nine pounds. She had sustained multiple injuries throughout her body and had not woken up from her sedated state.
Pictures were taken of her body to use as testaments in court. Eden's body was seemingly painted in various shades of blue, purples, and yellow. I knew that she had been beaten many times, but could not have imagined the multitude of scars, bruises, and cuts that peppered her entire body. My heart ached with the need to comfort and protect her.
But I was not to hold her. The doctor's main concern was the large bump on her forehead that bled through the bandage. The doctor stated that the loss of consciousness and the lack of alertness was enough to make him suspect she was concussed. She was given a CT scan to ensure she didn't have brain swelling or bleeding. When that was ruled out, he concluded he would test her cognitive and neurological results when she woke up.
Another concern was the giant burn on her thigh. I could not deny that the soup I had made to help was most likely the cause of Eden's issue. The burn had started to become infected and had taken a toll on Eden's tiny body. She had been dehydrated for likely up to a week before the burn and the fever and dehydration from the infection increased with it. Eden was connected to an IV with multiple drips trying to return her levels back to normal.
As the head and burn put her in immediate danger and needed to be attended to urgently, we had not yet taken x-rays to examine Eden's bones. The doctor wanted to ensure that the bruises Eden had been given didn't extend to broken bones, a sign common in child abuse. My arms yearned to hold the tiny child in my arms, wishing to comfort her. The doctor decided when Eden woke up, he would perform a more in-depth examination, but she was stable and not in any more danger and that was enough to make me cry tears of joy.
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