Cal/ioPe's P.O. V.
Mommy and Daddy have always told me I was a smart girl, too smart, they said. I knew they weren't saying it to be nice. They would have liked it if I were stupid, so they could get away with more. My eyes were always watching what they were doing. I knew they were not doing good things, but they kept doing it, anyway.
'You tell anyone about this and you're dead, you hear me, Cali?' Daddy would threaten me any time I saw him selling that funny white powder in a tiny baggie. I would just nod my head and keep quiet, because I learned long ago that saying anything would make Daddy hurt me.
'She's just a little girl, Mateo. She won't say anything.' Mommy would try to defend me, but the moment Daddy gave her a look, she would stop.
Mommy didn't want to get hit either, so she never fought hard for me. She would rather I get hit than her. It's okay though, because I would rather Daddy hit me over her, too. When Daddy is done hitting me, Mommy takes extra good care of me. She can't do that if she's hurt too.
It's been 3 weeks now since Mommy wouldn't wake up. Daddy got home, and he was so mad at Mommy. Then he looked at me, and dragged me by the arm outside. We went on a car ride and when Daddy told me to get down, I did. I know better than to not listen, but then Daddy drove away, and I didn't know where I was. I stayed in that spot waiting for him to come back, but he never did. That spot was my home base for the first few days until I finally decided that Daddy wasn't coming back for me.
Lisa's P.O. V.
Calliope refused to go to the social worker when we got here, so I told them it was fine, that she could stay with me. The social worker nodded but stuck by our side. Now it was Davis, Calliope, the social worker and myself, sitting across from this officer in his small, cramped desk. The smell of coffee was strongest, mixed in with the odd scents from the people that were brought in. I hadn't been here in a while, not since Liv had me file a report against my first abusive boyfriend.
Definitely not happy to be back here.
They asked millions of questions. Where did we find her? What was her name? Her last name? Were there any other adults around? They asked her questions too, but she never answered them. She would only answer if I asked and usually only if she could answer with her hands. She wouldn't tell us her last time, but she nodded her head yes when I asked her if she
knew the names of her parents. She wrote them down for us, then she handed me a separate torn piece of paper.
Daddy doesn't want me back, and I don't want to go back. Don't make me go.
I showed Davis a paper, making a face that told him he better make sure this beautiful girl isn't dragged away from us. Calliope isn't going anywhere. If her asshole father abandoned her like a stray dog, then he doesn't get to have her back. Davis seemed to understand what I was mentally telling him as he looked just as determined as I.
"Look, Chuck, it's pretty obvious what happened here. You have what you need from her and I know you need to make the call to her father, but we both know you will not get an answer. In the meantime, we are taking the girl home, so give me the paperwork, or whatever you need to do, to make it happen." Davis meant business, giving Chuck a very stern tone, intimidating him.
"I don't think that's how it works. She has to be placed in the system and then they call and find a foster family for her to stay at, if we don't find any other relatives first." Chuck answered with a shaky voice.
"Make it happen, Chuck. We'll foster her, so figure it out and get it done. This girl isn't leaving our side."
To drive the point further, Calliope clung onto me tightly. Chuck then went off to talk to the social worker who had walked away for a moment to get a cup of coffee. After a lot of arguing, a lot of paperwork, and a lot of other shit we had to do, Calliope left with us. I held her in my arms as Davis called us a taxi. He would take the bike home and we would meet him there.
"You' re okay now, Calliope, I have you." I told her, running my hand over her hair since there was no way for me to run my fingers through it. I'll have to help her wash her hair.
Calliope passed out on my lap, seeming so exhausted. Her little face began to relax slowly, showing me her age further. She must be no older than 6. Her round cheeks were making it hard for me to tell her exact age. I'll have to see if she' ll tell me when she wakes again.
Davis was already home when the taxi pulled into the driveway. I gave the man his money, and carefully carried Calliope inside. Davis opened the doors for me and signaled for me to put her in the guest room beside ours. I'll have to keep an ear out for her all night. This girl has been through so much already. Davis helped me carefully remove her shoes, and we saw how blistered her feet were. I silently cried as we tucked her in.
How could anyone do this to her?
"What do you want to do, Lisa? They' re going to find her dad and he might want his daughter back. I am sure he will come up with a stupid story like she ran away or got lost. That note she gave you tells me her parents are no good. God, I hate whoever they are!" Davis' punched the wall in anger, making a hole through the drywall.
"You' re going to scare her if she wakes up. Calm down, or go downstairs and hit the bag."
I doubt she will warm up to Davis if she sees him punching the walls in frustration. He would probably frighten her away even though he was the kindest man on this planet. At least to those deserving of his kindness.
"You' re right." He sighed. "But Lisa, what do you want to do with her?"
"I don't know, Davis. I just know I can't send her back. She can't go back." I started crying again for the poor small child laying in the room next door. There's no telling what horrors she's been through.
"I won't let them send her back. Derek and I will find who her parents are, and get to the bottom of what happened. If they really are bad, I'll make them sign their rights away. Fuck them!" Davis held me tightly as he spoke, allowing me to hear the rumble of his words in his chest.
We'll keep you safe, Calliope.
___________________________
There was a little hand on my shoulder, shaking me awake. I sat up so fast, remembering that we had taken a beautiful little girl home. A beautiful, broken little girl. She stood before me with sad eyes in our dark room. It was still dark outside, making me look at the clock on my bedside tabel to see it was 3 in the morning.
"What's wrong?" I asked her, worriedly. She looked ready to cry when I asked, flinching away. "Oh, sweetheart, whatever it is, it's okay. What's the matter?"
Davis sat up, waking up due to my not so quiet talking. It seemed to only make her more nervous. He turned the lamp on on his nightstand, illuminating the room enough for me to see the wet spot between her thighs. She'd had an accident.
"Sweet child. It's okay. Let's get you cleaned up. Davis will get the bed changed for you. Don't worry, okay?"
She looked at Davis as if waiting for him to do something. When he got off the bed, she backed away scared, and that's when I flashed back to my own childhood. She had been
abused by her father. It was obvious by the way she coward away from Davis, like he would punish her for having an accident.
"He's not going to hurt you."
I grabbed her hand, took her to my bathroom, and started a bath for her. I needed to wash her hair anyway, so at least she' ll have nice clean curls for tomorrow. She was shy, but when I added bubbles to the bath, she quickly undressed and got right in.
"Does your dad hurt you, Calliope?"
She didn't answer, neither shaking, nor nodding her head. That gave me my answer. He did.
"My father would hurt my brother and I, too. Any time he got mad, or things weren't going his way at work, he would take it out on us. Usually my brother more than me, but I know that fear you' re feeling, Calliope. I've lived through it. I won't let him ever hurt you again. You hear me? Never again. I'll make sure of it, I promise."
She stayed silent, but I saw her give me a small nod before she continued to play with the bubbles. I washed her hair as she played, having to soak it and wash it multiple times. I had to use a multitude of deep conditioners and oils to finally get a brush through her wet hair. It took a while, and she was all pruned by the time I got her out.
"I'm a little old lady," she whispered, showing me her fingers. I smiled, having gotten a sentence out of her.
"If you' re an old lady, then I must be a dinosaur."
She giggled at my joke, relieving some of my worry for her. Her giggle was magical, like fairy dust and rainbows. I wanted to hear it as often as possible, and I will make it my goal to make her laugh daily.
Can I keep her?