Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 60978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“May I?” She gestured to the visitor’s chair on the opposite side of Lily’s bed.
“Sure,” I said, the word barely audible. I glanced at Lily, making sure she still slept peacefully before returning my attention to the lawyer.
Lana settled into the chair with graceful efficiency, setting her portfolio on her lap. She studied me for a moment, her gaze taking in my wrinkled clothes, my unwashed hair pulled back in a hasty ponytail, the dark circles I knew shadowed my eyes.
“Cash filled me in on what happened with the social worker,” she said. “I want to be clear from the start. I’m not here to judge you. I’m here to help if I can. I will give you every benefit of the doubt, starting from the assumption you’re telling the truth.” When I opened my mouth, she smiled and continued. “Cash said he’d been convinced Lily isn’t an abused child by the way she acted with him. And you.”
“Why?” I asked, my voice rough with exhaustion. “You don’t know me. Neither of you do.”
“No,” she agreed. “But I know the system, and I know when it’s failing someone.”
My guard began to lower, just a fraction. Maybe it was desperation, or maybe it was the way she looked at Lily with genuine concern and not the clinical assessment Ms. Winters had used.
“I don’t have money for a lawyer, Ms. Thompson,” I said bluntly.
She waved away my concern and smiled. “I’m not here for your money. And call me Lana.”
I hesitated, then reached for my purse, the worn leather cracking along its seams. I pulled out a stack of papers held together with a binder clip holding medical bills, insurance denials, and all of Lily’s medical records. My hands trembled slightly as I laid them on the small table between us.
“These are just from the last six months,” I said, the papers rustling as my fingers brushed across them. “There are more at home. Three years’ worth.” Lana didn’t reach for them immediately. Instead, she watched me, giving me space to continue. I did, but my voice shook with emotion I couldn’t seem to keep under control. “I work two jobs,” I continued, glancing at Lily’s pink cast, guilt twisting in my chest like a knife. “Office admin during the day, remote data entry at night. I have insurance through my day job, but it barely covers anything. Every time Lily gets hurt, everyone looks at me like I did it. Or like I’m making up an excuse to not come to work.”
My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard against the burning in my throat. “The first time she got hurt she was three. She fell, not even hard, just a normal toddler tumble. But her arm broke. She’s been prone to falls since she started walking, but her balance hasn’t improved and sometimes her legs don’t seem to want to hold her. She bruises so easily.” My voice broke as I spoke so I stopped and took a sip from a bottle of water on the table nearby. My hands shook and I immediately curled my fingers into a fist to stop the trembling. “After that, she was in and out of the emergency room every few months. Sometimes she’d have a minor injury, but this last time, her arm…”
When I had trouble continuing, Lana prompted me. “Obviously, she broke it,” Lana observed. “Why was this time different?” I didn’t get the feeling this woman judged me. She seemed genuinely concerned about both me and Lily and wanted to get to the bottom of the situation.
I cleared my throat. “They said the type of fracture Lily had didn’t happen with a simple fall. There had to have been some pretty bad trauma involved, so they went digging.”
“Digging.”
“Into Lily’s past visits. They called her doctor. They called hospitals in the immediate area, trying to get more records than what I had with me. They found out her father is in prison and…” I took a breath, shaking my head slightly. “He’s not in the picture. We cut ties with him two years ago.”
“You carry her records on you?” Lana looked genuinely puzzled.
“I’m not stupid. I know what the situation looks like. I talked with Lily’s primary care doctor on multiple occasions about why she had trouble with balance or how she bruised so easily. He said we’d keep an eye on it, check her ears to make sure fluid didn’t cause balance problems, but she was fair skinned so she might bruise easily.” I twisted my hands together. “Anyway, the emergency room doctor asked so many questions. Took pictures. Called in a specialist of some kind. I thought they were finally going to figure out what was wrong with her.”
Lana nodded, her expression encouraging me to continue. I took a few breaths and another drink of water. The more I spoke, the more I knew I sounded just like the people you see on TV denying all the horrible things they’ve done by making the same lame excuses their abusers adopt because they know better than not to.