Asking [the right] questions

‘What did they do to you?’ The police officer asked

This wasn’t fun, the young boy was more interested in the toys in his room than being asked questions.

‘Where did you go?’ He said, slightly annoyed at having to ask a second time.

The boy did not usually talk to people; it was more strange and scary than safe, even with a police officer.

Nevertheless, the boy started the story, ‘She took us to her house.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘She gave us ice cream…’

The boy was confused; he did not understand what was going on and what they wanted.

‘…and?’ the police officer was losing patience with the boy.
‘The man got mad at her and she had to bring us home.’
‘Is that all?’

Knowing that the man was not happy, the little boy wove one of his stories. Not a particularly good one, but one that he thought would make the officer happy. It was, of course, a story involving superheroes. Just to make it interesting.

The officer smiled, ’Thank you’

Happy that he had done a good job he smiled back and the officer opened the door and soon walked out of his bedroom room leaving the little boy to play.

It would not be until years later that he would realize that what had happened was very bad. The babysitter should not have taken him outside of the house, much less to her own home. More importantly he realized that the questions the woman had asked were the foreshadowing to a much different outcome had it not been for the woman’s husband.

‘If you were my kids, you would have ice cream’ the babysitter said, ‘But there is none here…’
‘If I were at home I could’ she continued, ‘Do you want to go for a ride?’

Not questioning it the young boy got into the car, she was after all the babysitter and he was to behave and listen to her.

‘Do you like your home?’ asked the babysitter
‘Sometimes’, the boy said in earnest
‘You could come live with me.’ She pushed, ‘It would be an adventure.’

The boy remained silent.

It was not until her husband told her to go back did she actually do it.

The police were already called by then, Mom and dad were home and no one was there. Once the woman had taken the young boy into the home, he found his Mom crying. This confused the little boy.

A nice police officer escorted the boy into the little boy’s bedroom and started asking questions.

But the officer never asked the little boy what she said.

Only what she did.

To this day, I still wonder what would’ve happened if she had kept me.

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