Tuesday, October 17, 2001

"Ma'am, I need you to tell me where your children are." The police officer said, tapping his pen lightly against the pad of yellow paper on hisk desk. Linda avoided his eyes, instead staring at the trinkets lining the man's desk. A snowglobe filled with orange, leaf-like glitter, a Captain America bobblehead, a tiny potted fern, and a gold painted name plate which read E. Walter were all proudly displayed on the fake wood grain.

"Ms. Harris, we need to know where Elizabeth and Patricia are. Abandoning your children to hide your crimes will get you even more jail time."

Linda then turned her eyes toward the ceiling fan, spinning in slow, lazy circles. Officer Walter ran his fingers through his curly black hair.

"We will have to put you in a cell if you don't tell me where they are." Linda tried to avoid the officer's gaze, but Walter wouldn't let her. She finally decided to stare directly at the man's eyes. Pale blue bored into coffee brown, and eventually Officer Walter averted his eyes. Linda reveled in her small victory.

"Officer."

Eli Walter looked at the woman. This was the first time she had spoke since Mrs. Brenda Jackson had shown the police her tiny townhome. Her voice was low, and honey sweet.

"Yes, Ms. Harris?" He asked, immediatly feeling like he was under a magnifying glass.

"Please, officer. Call me Linda."

"For the sake of professionalism, I will refer to you as Ms. Harris." Eli swallowed hard. Linda pouted her bright red lips.

"But officer, it feels far to formal being reffered to as 'miss'."

"This is not a casual situation, Ms. Harris. "

"But officer-"

"Ms. Harris, did you or did you not abuse your eldest daughter for almost a year?"

"I did, but I was under the influence, I swear. I couldn't control myse-"

"Did you or did you not force your eldest child into illegal prostitution?"

"I swear, officer, I only did it because I needed the money-"

"Did you or did you not?" His voice was rising, causing the faux-blonde secretary to look over and glare at him through the glass window.

"I did."

"Ms. Harris. I want you to recount the story of when your drinking habits began." Officer Walter instructed, picking up the ballpoint pen.

"It happened around the time my ex lost his job. I had drank before that, you know, a glass a night once the kids fell asleep. Then Sam lost his job, and I went from being a stay-at-home mom to working two jobs. And I drank to keep stress down. But then I lost my better-paying job. We needed money, so I went down to that little bar-you know, Red Italia- and payed people to have sex with me.

"My husband found out, and we got divorced over it. I drank during the divorce process, and then I drank some more, because I worked two jobs again, except one during the day and one at night. So I began to drink even more, because I was feeling overworked. Then I quit my day job, I was too tired. And rent became harder and harder to pay. So I drank more, because men like drunk women, they do more crazy shit when they're drunk.

"And then Mrs. Jackson came to my door and told me I needed the rest of the rent. I had no choice but to bring Liz to work with me. And when I was drunk, I began to hit Elizabeth when she didn't make enough. And this went on for a year. And then Patricia saw me hit her, and called the landlord. And here we are now."

"And that's all we needed to hear. Officer Reynolds?"

Linda's arms were bent behind her back and the metal handcuffs clicked around her wrists. Linda began to shreik in indignance, but Officer Reynolds simply tugged the 30-year-old blonde to her feet.

The second officer began to lead Linda away. "You've just earned yourself a life sentence, doll."

Sunday, July 28, 2002

Liz placed the half eated Subway sandwich on the paper towel. She pulled a plastic knife from her pocket, and cut into the bread to saw off the bitten parts. Patti sat patiently on the concrete floor and watched her sister.

"Here you go, Patti." Liz said handing the six -year-old the sandwich. Patti gratefully bit into the ham and cheese and bread.

"This 's weally good, Sis. Fanks!" Patti exclaimed around a mouthfull of food.

"No problem, Patti." Liz said quietly. She would never admit it, but she was jealous of Patti. Patti never had to worry about going hungry, because her big sister was looking out for her. But Liz had no one to look out for her, to make sure she got a healthy meal that wasn't from the garbage, to make sure she scrubbed behind her ears during her shower, and to make sure she got enough sleep, because Liz had to do that herself.

Liz enviously watched her sister eat, and almost didn't notice the door creak open. She glanced over her shoulder. A group of ten boys, all of different races, all built athletically, all with long, greasy hair, and all holding pistols.

They spoke to each other in thick New York accents, not noticing the two sisters. They stood by the door and talked about something Liz didn't understand. The leader, a tall blonde boy with a black and red beanie, approached the area the girls set up camp in.

"Yo, Marcus! We got's ourselves some stow-aways!" He yelled to a black boy.

"Really, Joe? How many we got's?" Marcus yelled back.

The boy called Joe spotted Liz and Patti. "We got two! And they're some lovely looking little girls."

Liz began to panic. She looked around for something to use in case they tried to attack, but the only thing she found was the plastic knife in her hand, which wouldn't do much good in a fight. The other boys began to flock to Joe, guns pointed.

Patti had been strangly silent the whole time. A glance at the girl told Liz she was concentrating on something very hard. Liz turned her gaze back to the gang, and then back to her sister. However, instead of the chubby blonde girl sitting on the concrete floor, a silver pistol lay there.

Liz wasted no time, grabbing the gun and pointing it at the group of boys. Some of them went to lower their guns, not wanting to shoot a little girl. Joe stood impassive, though. His gun was aimed at Liz's head, pointer finger resting against the trigger. If he moved his finger back just enough, Liz's brains would be decorating the wall behind her.

"Don't come any closer." She said, and though she tried to hide it, her voice still shook. "Take another step and I'll blow your head off." She hardened her face, staring straight into Joe's dull gray eyes.

"Listen girly, we don't want no trouble-" the boy named Marcus began, holding his gun in his left hand as he raised his hands in surrender and slowly stepping forward. Liz turned herself until the barrel of the gun was trained between his brows.

"I swear to God, if you move again, I will not hesitate to pull the trigger." Her voice shook a little less. Marcus lowered his hands and stepped back.

"Kid, we just want our turf back. You and your buddy can go somewhere else, we don't care, just get out of our territory." Joe stated.

Liz picked up the sandwich and the two thin blankets they had found in a dumpster and began to back towards the door, never once letting the gun's aim quaver. Her back hit the door, and she pushed it open. Once Liz felt the sticky summer air on her face, she ran as fast as she could.