I, Anonymous 

Children of the Damned

I recognized you by your rotten teeth, and your husband by his eyes. I caught your eye for a moment and I am not sure whether or not you recognized me. We barely spoke when we saw each other in court. While you and the father of your two children were relaxing, having coffee and reading the paper in the deli seating area, I wondered if you knew I had been on the phone twice already that morning with therapists, making arrangements for your five-year-old daughter. Or that my husband had driven almost 20 miles before 9 am so your two children could visit each other at a safe place, surrounded by therapists and DHS workers who actually care about them. Seeing the two of you sitting quietly made me consider for a moment that you may not be the monsters I know you really are. I know you are monsters because I am the foster mom who holds your sweet innocent little girl as she howls and screams every night because she is out of her mind with terror. And I am the one who hears the stories I don't tell anyone except our social worker. Your daughter is safe with us. Your son is safe with someone else. I really hope you two enjoyed yourselves, because it will be a very long time before your children do.—Anonymous

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