by Sandra Gillhouse

Created on: June 30, 2009   Last Updated: July 10, 2009

The smell of wet newspaper and rotting food forced us to cover our noses before we entered the dimly lit kitchen. Carefully we tiptoed over piles of dirty clothes and liquor bottles until we found the rectangle gray-marbled table; the source of the acrid smells. There; clinging to the rusty legs of two matching vinyl chairs, were two bloated-belly tiny girls. Matted brown hair framed their faces. One peered out from behind a clotted baby bottle in her mouth. The older girl backed away into the darkness of the table when we reached out for them, like a scared pup.

Tiny rivulets of dirt ran down the face of the younger one. Her eyes while crystal blue had rings of red around them. She had been crying recently. She took my hand and came out easy dragging a filthy diaper from her behind. Her legs were seriously bowed but she stood and took a few steps towards us. Her sister whimpered from her dark cave under the table. I knew we were in for a struggle with that one.

I dropped down to see how far she had withdrawn. I could barely see the glint of her eyes. She was as far as she could go against the wall nesting in what looked like shredded stuffed animals. I was regretting the khaki slacks I had worn. The knees would never be the same after my creep on the greasy floor. I moved all the chairs out to get closer reached in to grab her twig of an arm. Suddenly I felt a sting on my hand. Had she had stuck me with something? I pulled my hand out and saw a hypodermic needle sticking from the top of my hand. The plunger was up, but I could see an amber liquid was in the syringe.

I heard a thump and knew she was on the move. I was concerned about the drug in the syringe but I couldn't let her hurt herself more than she already had so I went back under. Nothing; she was gone, but how? No one saw her crawl past them. We pulled the table out from the wall and saw a piece of panel had been pulled from the wall the tiny girl was hiding in the wall. It took a full room of grown men to pull panels to find the tiny child stuck between dripping water pipes and wall studs. Her little back was scratched and she had splinters in her knees from working so far back into the wall. Even when we lifted her out she kicked and tried to squirm away from us. When we settled her next to her sister they huddled together like Siamese twins in the back seat of the police cruiser. Every sound; even the sound of our voices seemed to make them shudder. What horror had they lived to be in such a state?

All eyes at the precinct turned to the sight of two huge men walking in with the tiny bundles. Softly they set them down in a playpen that had been set up earlier for them in the holding room. It was quiet there except the drifting whisper of a fan blowing from a high window. The girls relaxed more when we handed them clean bottles of cool fresh milk. Gently we washed their bottoms and put on fresh diapers. Their eyes looked appreciative, but confused. They had their arms wrapped around each other as they lay down in the cool bedding to fall asleep. What would become of them and who was responsible for abandoning them? These were the questions that needed to be resolved now; these and what was in that syringe?

Learn more about this author, Sandra Gillhouse.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.