by Maggie O'Cala

Created on: August 16, 2010   Last Updated: August 23, 2010

I was 10 that year. Living with my father, and soon-to-be step-mom, whom I adored. We were living in a small apartment across town from my mother’s home. One night, my soon-to-be step-mom and I were waiting at home for my father to come in from work. Suddenly, the police banged on the door. Demanding to be let in. We were frightened, not knowing what they wanted. It was then that I heard my mother's voice calling to me from the other side of the door. With visions of the horrible on-going custody battle going through our minds, we hurried to the bathroom and locked the door.

The police busted down the department door. Searched the place, then started banging on the bathroom door. I screamed at them to go away, I was fine. Because at this point, they had started talking and said they were there for me. Ignoring my pleas, they took the door off the hinges. They entered the small room, followed by….my mother.

We took a ride to the police station. Come to find out, my dad had had a run in with my mother, and she called the cops on him. He was in jail – until the next day. So, they asked who I wanted to go home with. I said my grandparents. Which were my dad’s folks. I didn't like them, but I wanted to be returned to my dad and knew they would allow that.The police refused to call them. After hours of harping on me, I finally agreed to go home with my 1/2 sister. My mother’s daughter.

As expected, my mother arrived at my sister's, and made me go home with her. Where she was living with the ex con. For months, I had a “guard-dog” (mother, sister, or boyfriend's daughter) watching me 24/7. I was not allowed to call my father, or see him. Finally, one day my sister had come in from work and was tired. She fell asleep. I took my roller-skates, climbed down the stairs and snuck out. Once outside, I slipped them on, and skated as fast as I could until I reached a gas station 10 blocks away. I raced to the payphone, put in the coins I had taken, and dialed my dad’s number.

Thank God he answered. I was afraid he would be out. Not knowing the names of the streets, I told him the things I saw around me, so that he could figure out where I was. He came to get me. Took me home again. I was so glad to be back with my dad and soon-to-be step-mom. I thought maybe life would settle down.

The events that took place that night, and that day, had a lasting affect on the rest of my life.

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