Chapter 11
1115 Words
Tyler's POV
I felt sick. How could that lawyer who'd helped Josh and I negotiate a fair and lucrative contract be the same person who had caused so much damage to a defenceless child? His own flesh and blood!
We had to find a way to ensure Samantha never returned there.
Josh kept texting me, asking what was going on and saying that I owed him a story.
"Dude," I texted. "This is one heck of a story. But right now, we're back in the hospital with Samantha. I promise. Once we have this all sorted out, I'll tell you what I can."
"Ty, this sounds like you're in some serious s**t. What's going on? Why are you still with this Samantha kid?"
"Long story short with no detail, Jenna and I became her foster parents. It's really, really complicated and just seems to be getting more complicated. Please. I promise. Give us a couple of days for things to settle here, and I'll tell you everything I can."
"Dude, you owe me an explanation. This sounds like, I dunno, a soap opera."
"It's more like a horror story. I'll fill you in. I promise."
"Just make sure you're okay, okay? Are you?" Josh asked.
"I'm alright. Now that I have this kid to focus on, I am totally fine."
"Alright. But I'm gonna keep checking in if I don't hear from you," Josh promised.
"That's fine. Promise. Tomorrow or the next day I'll give you a call and tell you the whole story."
"Alright. Cool man. I'll talk to you in a couple," he said.
I returned to where Jenna stood outside the curtain where Samantha lay. She had tears in her eyes.
"Don't look, Ty," she said. "If Samantha knew you saw her bruises, I don't know how she'd react. It's so sad."
"What's going on in there?" I asked, wrapping my wife in a tight hug.
"They're taking photos of her bruises for their case against her father. Apparently they're going to try to get a warrant to get her medical records from the hospital."
"Wow," I said. "This is bigger than we realized."
"Are we doing the right thing? Getting involved?"
"Jen, Samantha needs a home where she's loved and cared for. She landed in our backyard for a reason."
She sighed and leaned into me.
"Josh is bugging me to tell him what's happening. I want to make sure Samantha is more stable before I tell him everything."
"I love him. He cares so much about you."
"Yeah. I love him too," I smiled, thinking of my bandmate who'd saved my life in more ways than one on more than one occasion. We wouldn't be where we are if it weren't for Josh.
"Okay," the officers said, coming out from the curtained cubicle. "We're done. She's asking for you."
He indicated Jenna, who nodded and went into the cubicle.
I stayed outside. Based on what Jenna had told me so far, we would have to take things slow and let Samantha trust us on her terms.
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Jenna's POV
"Hey there, sweetie," I said, sitting beside Samantha's stretcher. She was curled up on her side and covered with a blanket. She'd been crying. I reached my hand out for her to take if she wanted. "How're you feeling?"
"Better," she hiccuped. "But, they took pictures. Of the bruises."
"I know sweetie. They took them to include in their report. So the courts can see what your dad has done to you."
"I didn't want anyone to see them. Ever."
"I know sweetie. But you've been so brave. You showed me, and the police can now show the courts what's really been happening to you. They're also going to try to get a warrant to get your medical records, so the court can see how many times you've been here because your blood sugar has been too high or too low."
Samantha didn't say anything.
"Samantha? Can I ask you something? Can you promise to be brave and honest with me?"
She nodded.
"Did you take enough insulin at lunchtime?"
Tears formed in her blue eyes. How had I not noticed how blue her eyes were?
She shook her head.
"My dad always made me take less so it would last longer. So he wouldn't have to fill it so often. I guess I took just a little too little."
I sighed.
"Thank you for being honest. Samantha, I don't know what the near future holds for you, but please take the amount you need while you're with us. We want to keep you healthy. I promise. Even if we have to buy more insulin daily, it's okay. And we'll pick up another test kit to keep one at home and one you'll carry with you. You don't have to worry about test strips or costs, okay?
I was reading about continuous glucose monitors that you can wear and insulin pumps. Depending on how things play out, we can look into those."
Her eyes widened.
"Those are really expensive," she said.
"Your health is more important to us than the cost. But that's something we'll discuss when we know more about what's going to happen. Okay? For now, I want you to promise you're going to take the proper amount of insulin and you're going to test when you need to. Okay?"
She nodded.
"Promise?" I asked.
She nodded. I put out my pinky.
"Pinky swear?"
She laughed, took my pinky and agreed.
"Okay. Now that we pinky swore you are obligated to do what I said," I smiled at her.
"Is Tyler mad?" She asked suddenly.
"About what?"
"Having to come back to the hospital. For me again."
"Oh, honey. No. He's worried about you. He wants to make sure you're healthy, too. He's right outside. Want him to come in?"
I could see her debating in her mind. I felt there weren't many men she could trust in her life. Her dad treated her horribly. The police had never been able to help her before. She wasn't sure she could trust Tyler.
Eventually, she nodded, and I poked my head out and told him to come in.
"Hey there, kiddo," he said. "How're you feeling?"
"I'm okay," she said.
We sat with her through the night. In the morning, the doctors checked her levels again, were confident she was well enough to go home, and sent us on our way. But this time, Samantha had a referral to a mental health professional. We were going to meet her current social worker, the one who kept dropping the ball and letting her go home.
- Writer
