to be continued

i cried myself to sleep that night. never in my thirty years have i felt so sad. it was not the first time I've had to cry myself to sleep, and i doubt it will be the last. but it has been the worst by far. when i had awoken it was in a sweat and a panic. i had a horrible nightmare, once i had awoken i realized the panic was from that nightmare was really just a flashback of reality. there wasn't anything else i could do besides drag myself out of bed, get dressed and walk to work. i'm thirty years old and walking four miles to work everyday and four miles home every night. as i walk, i keep thinking. what if, what if things were different, what if it never happened? if only words were more powerful and i could just wish things different. if only time travel was real. there's nothing that will change the past but u just pray for the energy to change the future. i finally get to work and head to my cubical without saying a single word. i put my headset on and start answering calls.

"hello you have reached Kate at child protective services how may i help you?"

my mind just drifts off. i dont even know what the client said but as soon as i hear a pause i say "let me transfer you to my supervisor"

i stopped taking calls and just started to cry a little. that's when my supervisor comes over and asked "Kate whats wrong?" before i could open my mouth to answer she quickly says "that was a rhetorical question, i dont care whats wrong now get back to work before i suspend you without pay." so again i answer the phone "hello you have reached Kate at child protective services how may i help you?"

"yes hello my name is Roger and i think my neighbor is abusing their son."

"thank you for calling Roger what is your address and your neighbors address and what can you tell me about them, why do you think the son is being abused?"

" i live at 555 west Cesar e Chavez avenue, Los Angeles Ca 90012, my neighbor lives at 557 same st and all that. i hear them crying and hear yelling then they will make him do yard work and ill see bruises and cuts on him."

"do you know there names? how long has this been going on for?"

"the fathers name is John and i thing the boys name is Javier. I've been suspicious for two weeks now but i have noticed more bruises the past two days."

"thank you Roger i will send someone out and get to the bottom of this. now is there anything else i can help you with."

"no"

"okay please give us a call with anymore news and go ahead and ask for me, my name is Kate. have a nice day."

then he hung up. now usually i would just put in a request and have someone else go check it out but i feel i need to go ahead and handle this one.

i get into the company car and head over the the address. i park across the street and get out of my car. this guy half bald with brown hair, about 6'2" slim wearing a green plaid shirt and blue jeans comes up to me and says "hi you must be Kate i'm Roger we talked on the phone, i didn't expect you to come so soon."

"yes hello Roger i decided to personally come and see what was going on."

"well that's his car over there so i know hes home."

he points to a blue Honda civic in the driveway of a beat down yellow house, one of the windows has wooden shutters with graffiti. i tell Roger to go back inside so i can handle this without alarming them.

i knock at the house, i see someone lookout the window and then crack the door. an older guy with a beer belly aggressively asked " who are you and what do you want?"

"hello are you John my name is Kate, i'm with social services, i got a concerned call about your son Javier."

he quickly says "no were fine we dont need you" then tries to slam the door. i put my hand out and tell him "i'm sorry sir but once we get a call we are obligated to investigate. can i please come in and do my inspection and then i can get out of your hair. otherwise id have to call the cops and get a warrant and take your child until we get the matters cleared up."

he opens the door without saying anything else. i say "thank you this shouldn't take long."

when i walk inside with my clipboard i take notes. there's a lot that i notice. right away off the bat i notice the dirty blue walls where the paint is chipped everywhere. a hole in the wall about the size of a fist. one single picture that's crooked hanging, it was the picture of Jesus on the cross. dirty dishes piling up in the sink. there's one bedroom which i take it is the parents bedroom, they have a queen sized mattress on the floor. a small TV on top of a dresser. there is no couch in the living room. just a small toy chest inn the corner with no toys just a stack of clothes i assume dirty. i dont know where the child sleeps. it doesn't even look like a child lives here.... to be continued