Samantha was born in drugs, filth and poverty. A lot of her days were spent in different trailers and cars, always on the move. She didn’t really count. This little girl, just a baby, her thin, fine, brown hair that was usually matted with throwup that no one bothered to clean. She sat in diapers way too long; drank a lot of milk but rarely ate baby food.
She was pale and restless. Samantha never had a routine. No one around her did. Her hours were never regular. Sleep most of the day and up most of the night
Mostly she slept on the floor, on the seat of a car and sometimes a car seat – whether it was in or out of the car.
She didn’t get to shuffle around much that would become the beginning of a crawl. She was already behind the age of one.
Samantha had learned that crying brought no one, when she was wet or hungry. No o0ne came when she just wanted to be held by someone – anyone.
She learned, at a very early age, not to cry. It just didn’t matter. It took too much energy with no reward. Her mother followed drugs, wherever she could. Anywhere. With anybody. That was all that mattered. It wasn’t much of a hinderence to drag Samantha along. She was no bother and something would help get sympathy. After all, the money was for her baby… she would say.
On the ‘go’ all the time, there was no address for welfare. No place to be on the dole. Wasn ‘t anywhere long enough to get a check of food stamps. Just chasing those drugs.
One of the druggies really lite up when he saw Samantha. She was just a baby. Frail. Couldn’t even crawl at almost two. Certainly couldn’t talk.
After shooting up to the point that days and nights ran together, he took little Samantha to the back, pulled off her wet diaper and brutally raped her.
She screamed out in pain. But, no one was there. No one that cared, anyway. She was beat for crying, as he kept raping her. Tearing her little insides up.
She was found…
beaten and bloody all over. The bed was a mess of maroon colored blood. She looked dead, but she was still breathing and warm. There was no one in sight. No one was real sure who all had been there during this three day drug binge. There were many guys in and out of the sparse trailer. But, one seemed to have disappeared from interviews.
In the meantime, at the hospital, little Samantha was holding onto life. Gripping it with her little fingers. Not wanting to leave this world. Not yet.
When doctors got trough, she was in a cast from her waist to her toes. With this huge bar spreading her legs apart so her hips and legs would heal right, they hoped.
There was just a small opening, around the bandages, for her to go to the bathroom. She was in this body cast for eight months. Not able to move around. So, for another third of her little life, she was immoble and helpless. The doctors doubted she would ever be able to have children. She was lucky to still be here herself. There had been so much internal damage.
An aunt took her in; while the mother continued her drug trail. Social services was involved in the case, as law enforcement eased out of the case. Social services concluded that they should return Samantha to her natural mother.
As soon as they could find her!! After all, they concluded in their infinite wisdom, she needs her ‘mother’.
The rest of the story
Was to protect Samantha. To try to reach her in time to teach her about love, trust and caring. She had already seen enough of life’s brutal side.
With the intervention of Wings for Children, Samantha remained with her aunt, the result of a two year process.
Copyright March 21, 2000
Karole K. Jensen