Chapter Ten: CompCare Comes
340 Words
It wasn’t long after that prayer—maybe 30, 45 minutes.
I was still lying there on that cold slab, drained from crying, too numb to think.
Then the flap cracked open again.
“Get up,” they said. “Someone’s here to see you.”
I didn’t know what to expect. I had already had one visit, and that was unheard of.
Now someone else?
They had me sit by the door.
There was a man on the other side — quiet, calm, holding a clipboard.
It was someone from CompCare.
He was there to evaluate me — to see if I was a danger to myself or others.
He didn’t know that I had just screamed out to God.
Didn’t know I had just asked for somebody to come…
And here he was. Not with answers. Not with power.
But present.
He asked me questions — the usual.
I answered honestly. I told him everything.
Told him about Elijah.
Told him about the panic, the blackout, the drinking.
Told him I didn’t remember what they said I did.
Told him I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. I was just… falling apart.
He listened.
Didn’t interrupt.
Didn’t judge.
He just… wrote.
Then he radioed the guard.
“She’s good. Get her some clothes.”
That moment hit different.
I was finally allowed to wear a uniform.
I was finally given a tray of food — and a spork to eat it with.
Not my hands.
That stupid little spork felt like respect.
As he stood to leave, I thanked him — from the bottom of everything I had left.
But just before he walked away, panic set in again.
I still needed something. I still couldn’t carry this.
“Hey,” I called after him, my voice cracking.
“Can you give me something? Just… something to help me sleep?”
He paused.
Looked at me.
“I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
Then he left.
And in jail, ten minutes usually means never.
But not this time.
- Writer
