Bang(10)

I get off the floor and jump on his back, taking a piggyback ride all the way to the front door.

You’ve heard the saying, “Beware of what lies on the other side,” right? Neither of us could have possibly imagined how our lives would be forever changed when he opened that door. I used to wish that someone would cast a spell on me, forever changing me into a caterpillar. I could’ve had a good life, living in the mythical forest with Carnegie. Spending our days searching for berries and floating aimlessly on the lily pads in the pond. But instead, I was about to find out the hard truth of life at the age of five. The truth they keep from you as a small child, allowing you to believe that the fairytales are real . . . but they aren’t. And neither is magic.

“Cook County P.D.,” is all I hear as men come charging into the house.

Chaos. Loud chaos.

“Daddy!” I scream, scared, panicked, clinging my arms around his neck like a vice when a man grabs for me. “DADDY!”

“It’s okay, baby,” I hear my dad say as another man is talking at the same time.

“You’re under arrest.”

I don’t know what those words mean as ice cold fear runs through me, fisting my daddy’s shirt in my hands, unwilling to let go of him.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s going to be okay,” he keeps repeating, but his voice is different and I think he’s scared too.

“You need to come with me,” the man who’s grabbing me says.

“No! Let go!”

I begin kicking my legs when I’m pried off my daddy’s back, stretching his shirt because I have my hands clamped so tightly to the fabric as I’m being pulled away.

I see my daddy’s eyes—blue eyes—as he turns to look at me. “It’s okay,” he says calmly, but I don’t believe him. “Don’t be scared. It’s okay.”

“No, Daddy!” I cry out as the tears fall. I hold on to his shirt until I am pulled so far back it pops out of my hands.

The moment I am no longer touching the man that sings to me at night, that puts my hair in pigtails, that dances with me while I stand on top of his feet, I’m whisked away. I see my prince drop to his knees as I watch over the man’s shoulder who’s carrying me away.

“DADDY!” I shriek, throat burning, as they clamp my daddy’s hands together behind his back with something. His eyes stay on me, never once pausing as he says, over and over, “I love you, baby. I love you so much, baby girl.”

And for the first time ever, I see my daddy cry before the door closes on him and he’s gone.

“Let me go! DADDY! NO!” Kicking and swinging, I can’t escape this man’s hold on me.

“It’s okay. Calm down, kiddo,” he says, but I won’t. I want my daddy.

The man sits down on my father’s bed with me still in his arms, fighting. He continues to coax me to calm down, but my screaming and thrashing don’t falter until I grow tired. My body is limp as I’m crumpled against his chest.

“Can you tell me your name?” he asks.

I don’t speak.

A moment passes and then he says, “I’m Officer Harp. Michael Harp. I’m a policeman. You know what that is, don’t you?”

I nod my head against his chest.

“Can you tell me your name?”

Still scared, my voice cracks when I tell him, “Elizabeth.”

“Elizabeth. That’s a nice name,” he says. “I have a daughter whose middle name is Elizabeth. She’s much older than you are though.”

He continues to talk, but I don’t pay attention to what he’s saying. I’m so scared and all I want is my daddy. I close my eyes; I can see him on his knees crying. He was scared just like me.

After a while, the door opens and I lift my head to see a chubby woman walking in. I think I’ve seen her before but I can’t remember where. As she gets closer, she says, “Your red hair is beautiful. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Where’s my daddy?”

“That’s what I am here to talk to you about,” she tells me. “Would you like to join me in the kitchen? We can get a snack or something to drink.”

“Umm . . . O-okay,” I mumble as the policeman sets me on the floor. When I follow the two of them out of the bedroom and into the kitchen, I look through the house to the front door, but nobody’s there anymore.

“Why don’t we have a seat?” the woman says, and I walk over to the table and sit down. “Do you want something to drink?”

I nod my head and she prompts, “Can you tell me what you want?”

“Juice box.”

Looking over at the policeman, he opens the door to the pantry, and I say, “They’re in the fridge.”

He walks over, pops the straw in, and sets it in front of me before he leaves the room.

“Confusing day, huh?” she says as she folds her hands together on top of the table. “What’s your name?”

“Barbara,” she answers but it doesn’t help me remember how I know her.

“When’s my daddy coming back?”

She takes in a deep breath and then tells me, “That’s what I’d like to talk to you about. Your father broke some pretty big rules and just like when you break a rule, what normally happens?”