by V. J. Banis
There was a long area on Harai’s belly where the fine, silky hair was growing back; a pink scar ran its length.
“Were you hurt here?” Simmons ran his finger lightly down the scar. Harai nodded, misunderstanding. “What happened?”
“He want thee inthide.” Harai’s voice was small and tight. “Hurt awful.”
“You were conscious?”
Harai stared at Simmons. He didn’t know the word.
Simmons tried again. “You were awake when he did this?”
“Only a little bit.”
Simmons glanced at the other man. “Vivisection.” Harai was relieved to sense the man’s revulsion. Continuing his examination, he asked Harai to open his mouth. When he did, the doctor’s eye widened for just a second. In a very soft voice, he asked, “Why did he pull your teeth out?”
Shame and remembered terror made Harai burst into tears. He tried to control himself, his breath catching in little sobs. Finally, he said, “I bite him.” His voice grew louder as he tried to defend what he had done. “I told him I thorry. I told him! He touch me—too hard—too much—ma’e me hrazy.” Humiliated, wanting to disappear, he shut his eyes and curled into a ball.
Annie glared at Simmons. “That’s enough!”
Simmons nodded, patting Harai’s shoulder and apologizing. This time, Harai didn’t pull away—the man was truly sorry.
“I’m sorry, Annie, I didn’t mean to upset him,” Simmons said. “You two need to get some rest. I can finish this tomorrow.”
* * * *
When they were alone, Harai sat up and scooted himself to the far corner of the bed to relieve himself.
“No, Harai, you’re not in a cage anymore. You can use the bathroom.”
“Bathroom?”
“Come on, I’ll show you.” Annie took his legs and swung them over the side of the bed. “Now, stand up.
Harai slid his bottom forward, toes searching for something solid, but when he stood, his knees gave and he plopped onto the floor. He had been in the cage a long time. He felt like crying for his poor body, once so strong.
Annie bent over him. “Don’t look so sad—I’ll help you.” She put her arms around him, braced his feet with hers, and pulled him up. “See?” She was little, but strong. “Lean on me.”
With her shoulder under his arm, he shuffled into a tiny room and sat on a chair with a hole in the seat.
“Do it in there,” Annie said, turning her back to him.
“Better now.”
“Okay. Let’s get you back in bed.”
Getting out of bed was easy; getting back in was hard. Annie leaned Harai against the bed and told him to hang onto the sheets while she climbed onto the bed. Kneeling on the edge, she put her hands under his armpits. The little strength he had in his legs was enough to help her haul him up. He crawled to his place at the head of the bed and curled into a ball, ready to sleep.
A woman came in carrying two large boxes. One she gave to Annie, the other she set on a little table and rolled it in front of Harai. “Hungry?” He nodded and sat up. When she took off the cover, he saw meat covered in a brown, thick liquid, a dish of little round green things, bread, and something that was orange and jiggly. Harai sniffed at the food. The rich smell of the meat made his mouth water. He ran his tongue over his gums, his stomach aching for the food he couldn’t chew. He looked up at the woman and found her staring at him.
“Go on.” She smiled at him, then raised her eyebrows. “Do you want some help?”
He shook his head, opened his mouth and pulled back his lips to show her.
“Oh, dear. Well...let me see if I can find you something you can manage.” She took the tray and left.
Harai turned to Annie—she looked as tired as he felt and probably didn’t want to talk, either. He watched her eat for a moment. Then, hunching his shoulders, he dropped his head and stared at his hands lying limp in his lap. There was so much he wanted to say and had no words for, things he needed to tell her, but he didn’t have the heart just now.
Before long, the woman returned with four small bowls on a tray and set them in front of Harai.
“How’s this?” she asked. Harai sensed she was pleased, so he smiled at her. She waited, and asked again if he needed help.
“I’ll do it,” Annie said.
The woman left with a nod.
Annie sat on the bed facing Harai. “I have something for you,” she sang, starting their old game.
“What?”
“Mashed potatoes.” She gave him a spoonful. “Do you like it?”
It was warm and soft, but not much flavor. “Little bit,” he frowned.
“No, you don’t,” Annie laughed. “Okay. Try this.”
Another spoonful, this time something cold with little soft lumps. He liked the slightly salty flavor. “Thith ’ood. What ith?”
“It’s called cottage cheese.” He ate all of it and wished there was more. Next was a lump of the quivering orange stuff. Harai sniffed at it; it smell a little like something he’d had before. It looked very strange, but he knew she wouldn’t try to trick him. He accepted the spoon hesitantly, then laughed deep in his throat. It bounced around in his mouth and melted slowly, easing some of the soreness where his teeth used to be.
“So, Jell-O’s a winner, too,” she said when he’d emptied the bowl. “I saved the best for last. I won’t tell you what it is, though.” He watched the spoon come closer, smelled the lovely scent and looked at her, his eyes and mouth open wide. Apples! The wonderful, cool flavor of autumn dazed him. He closed his eyes, savoring the fruit he loved most, the fruit he thought he’d never be able to eat again. When he opened his eyes to look for more, tears tumbled down his cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” She touched his arm gently. “I thought you liked apples.”
He saw her distress, but was so overcome himself, all he could do was cry. When he calmed down, the only word of explanation he could give her was ‘home’. He couldn’t tell her how the taste had flooded him with images and longing; wide open spaces, deep forest, sun on his face, cold fresh water flowing between mossy banks, climbing trees, the sky arching overhead, blazing blue or deep star-dazzled black. He wiped his cheeks with his wrists and tried to smile.
“It very ’ood. More?” He felt Annie’s relief and pleasure.
Harai wouldn’t be hurried and held each mouthful for a full minute, letting the flavor remind him of the sweetness of life. When he had swallowed the last morsel, he looked at Annie with large, solemn eyes and said something he had never said before. “Than’ you.”
Annie grinned, leaned over and hugged him. “I knew you’d like it!”
* * * *
Harai fell into a sleep like death, too exhausted to think about his situation. Warm rays of sunlight touched him, waking him. Annie? She wasn’t by the window. He turned to look behind him—the other bed was empty. Sitting up, he sniffed the air—she had been here recently.
“Annie?” he called softly, thinking she might be in the tiny room with the funny chair. When there was no answer, his heart beat faster, and it was harder to breathe.
There was another tray of food on the little table, but he wasn’t interested. He was scared. Where was she? Alone, he couldn’t do anything. What if someone came? They could take him, do things to him—Annie wouldn’t be there to stop them. He sat with his arms wrapped around his drawn-up knees, choking down the whine he felt rising in him. No noise. They’ll hear you, they’ll come in. He tucked his head down, wishing he could disappear.
A hand on his shoulder. Annie! He looked up, and there she was. “You hame ba’!”
“Of course I did.” She stroked his back. “I didn’t want to go, but I had to talk to the police.”
He didn’t know the last word, but it carried the sound of trouble. “What ’bout?” He hoped the trouble wasn’t for him.
“They asked questions about you and me, but mostly about my uncle.” She paused, then added, “They arrested him.”
“What it mean?”
“They put him in jail.” Annie thought for a moment. “They put him in a big cage.”
Harai didn’t want to know what they were going to do to The Man, but thought no one, not even him, should be in a cage.
“They said they’ll find me a new home where I’ll be safe. I told them Uncle hurt you, not me, but I think they think it’s the same thing.”
Harai was trying to sort out the confused feelings coming from the little girl when he heard voices. Two people, just outside the room, talking quietly. He sensed excitement and curiosity, and that could mean danger. A woman in black and a man in dark brown stepped into the room.
The woman came forward. “Harai?” He nodded. “And you must be Annie.” The woman smiled, but Harai couldn’t read her. “My name’s Holly and this is Tom. We’re very interested in you, Harai.” The woman sat on the bed to his left, the man sat on the right. Too close. Harai pushed himself back as far as he could.
“You’re a very unusual fellow,” the man said. Harai didn’t know what he meant. “We’d like to ask you some questions, get to know you. Is that all right?” Now he understood. They were like The Man, but their intent was different; he didn’t feel cruelty. He nodded, knowing he couldn’t make them go away.
“I want to be honest with you, Harai,” Holly said. “So, I’ll tell you right up front. We’ve never seen anyone like you before. Where do you come from?”
He didn’t have the words to tell her exactly. “I don’t know—far away.”
“How did you get here?”
“Annie find me, ta’e me home.”
The woman lifted her eyes to Annie. “Would you tell us how you found him?”
Annie looked to Harai and he nodded. “I was playing in the woods behind my uncle’s house. It was summer and really hot, so I went down by the stream where it was cool. I was lying in the grass under a tree, watching the sunlight make patterns on the water. I saw something move on the other side, but the sun was in my eyes. I thought it was a boy coming out of the trees. I moved into the shade so I could see better. He was on his knees by the water, then he laid down and didn’t move anymore. I wanted to see if he was okay, but I didn’t want to scare him, so I called out ‘Boy?’ But he still didn’t move, so I went closer and I could see he wasn’t really a boy because he didn’t have any clothes on –just hair all over. Not like an animal, though, I could see his skin through it. He moaned and got sick and I asked him if he was all right. He shook his head and said ‘I sih’. Then he looked at me.” She glanced at Harai and he saw tenderness in her smile. “When I saw his big, sad eyes, I knew I had to help him. So, I took him home and snuck him into my bedroom.”
“And then what happened?”
“I took care of him. I brought him food and water, put a blanket in the closet for him to sleep on—but I left the door open when I was in the room. He was so cute! He could talk and everything, but he didn’t know too many words, so I taught him more—he has a real good memory. I love to hear him talk.” Annie’s face grew troubled. “Then my uncle found out. I tried to keep him a secret, really I did, but he found the newspaper in the trash—the one he went potty on.”
“Why didn’t you tell your uncle about Harai?” Tom asked.
“Because I was afraid he would take him away, like the dog I brought home once. And he did. He took him down to the basement and put him in the dog cage.”
Harai heard her shame and put his arm around her. Now he could comfort her.
“I’m so sorry. I wanted to help you.” Annie’s eyes were wet, her lip trembling.
“I know,” he said, wiping her tears with his wrist. “Don’t hry.”
Holly waited a long moment before asking, “Where were you before Annie found you?”
Now Annie couldn’t speak for him; she didn’t know. He frowned, trying to find the words. “In the woods.”
“Behind her uncle’s house?”
“No. I told you—far away.” He saw himself walking in the woods, being caught in a net, hanging from a tree. A man kept him for a while, gave him food that made him sick, though he didn’t mean to. After that, a long time in a box with holes to let the air in. The box moved, tossing him around inside it. He didn’t think he remembered all of it. “A man brought me, left me in Annie’th woodth.”
Harai could tell the woman was frustrated. “Okay. I guess there’s no other way to ask this, and I hope I won’t offend you....”
“Offend?” Harai asked.
“Hurt your feelings. Understand?” He nodded. “Harai, are you human?”
He looked deep into the woman’s blue eyes and found only clean curiosity. It was a hard question to answer—he wasn’t sure what it meant to be ‘human’. “I don’t know.”
“Oh.” Her voice sank in disappointment. “Well, there are some tests we can do in our labs. We have all the best technology, top level stuff. You’ll be well taken care of....”
What was she saying? Confused, Harai turned to Annie for an explanation and saw the look of horror on her face as her arms encircled him, holding him tightly.
“No! You can’t take him. He belongs with me!”
Take me? Returning her embrace, he clung to Annie, searching her face for reassurance. “Annie?” he whispered.
“I won’t let you! He needs me. He’s coming home with me.” The little girl was so strong, so fierce.
The woman looked at Harai and Annie with compassion. “Honey, I know you love him, but look what happened the last time you took him home.”
“But they’re going to find me a new home. My uncle can’t hurt him anymore.” She put her head against Harai’s. “I won’t let anyone hurt him ever again.”
The woman spoke softly, honestly. “No matter who you live with, you can’t guarantee his safety—we can. Annie, it’s what’s best for him. I promise, we’ll take good care of him.”
“That’s what my uncle said, then he put him in a cage all alone, and did awful things to him.” Annie, brave and strong, started to cry. “I should have called the police a long time ago, but I was afraid.”
“Of course you were, honey, but everything’s going to all right now, you wait and see.” Holly smiled at the girl. “Harai will have his very own room, a nice soft bed, good food. There’s even a little fenced in yard—he can go out and sit in the sun, run around, whatever he wants.”
Harai caught the gist of what she said, but questioned one word. “What ith ‘fenth’?” When Holly described it, he pictured the bars of his cage, only bigger.
“You can come and visit him. How would that be?”
“No.” Annie’s voice was small and tight.
Harai nuzzled her cheek. “It’sh all right, Annie.” He turned to Holly. “I taw to her. You hum for me tomorrow?”
The woman nodded and left, the man following her. Harai rested his head against Annie’s chest, his tears blending with hers as they fell.
* * * *
Annie and Harai were left alone for the night. The moon rose, pale and shrouded in clouds. A stillness settled around then as if the room were sealed off from the rest of the world. He could tell her now; the woman had given him the word he needed. But, there were other things he had to say first.
“Annie.” He turned to face her. “Ta’e my handth.” She did. When she looked up, he held her eyes with his. “Annie, Hooly right. Free, I not thafe. Not free, how I live?” Underthtand?”
“But she said I could visit you.”
He shook his head.
“Yes, I will! I’ll come every day, I promise.”
“No, Annie, no more hageth.”
“But you won’t be in a cage. You’ll have your own room. You can go outside. She said so.”
“It thtill a hage.” He watched her face for a long moment, sensing her need and fear, than gave her the only thing he had to give. “I love you, Annie.”
He saw her tears dropping silently, like morning mist from pine needles. “I love you, to
o.”
“I know.” He needed to be brave, just one more time. “Will you help me?”
“To do what?’ Hope tangled with dread.
“To be free.” She held the key, but would she let him use it?
“How?”
“The only way I know.” He saw understanding emerge from her confusion, saw her accept his choice to escape captivity forever.
“What do you want me to do?” She was very solemn, not a child at all.
“Hold me very near.”
Annie took him in her lap, wrapped her arms around him, and put her chin on his shoulder. He felt her heart beating against his back, felt her love, and used its power to slow his own heart.
Slower, then slower yet, and still slower...until he was free.
PRECIOUS CHILD: A MEMOIR OF HEALING: AN EXCERPT, by Wanda R. Riggle
He sat quietly. His dark eyes were downcast, intense with thought. His chest heaved silently. He moved in his chair shuffling his feet. Again, his chest heaved—a sob escaped, other sobs quickly followed. Torrents of tears suddenly filled his brown eyes and cascaded down his handsome face.
“She abused me,” he said. “My mother sexually abused me. I don’t even know where her boundaries end and mine begin. Sometimes I don’t even know who I am!” His voice held more than a hint of mounting hysteria.
I had never seen a man so painfully vulnerable. I was amazed at the intensity of his despair. He hurt a lot. I didn’t realize a man could hurt so much. And it was his mother who hurt him? My father hurt me. I was beginning to get gray, hazy memories to match the swallowed down rage of early childhood.
It was November 1989, my second month in the incest support group. I had naturally assumed all men were abusers and all women victims. Wasn’t that the way it went? His mother had obviously victimized the intense man; there was no doubt about it. Still it was difficult to fathom: a woman who would sexually abuse her son? How could a woman sexually abuse anyone? I believed women were above such things. I had always considered women to be morally superior to men.
