Written par redsneakers.
It took scenes from Children of the Dark (3x04).
Never Good
As I help the little girl out of the car, reassuring her that everything is going to be okay, I notice that morgan is talking to the boy. I can’t hear what he is saying but I think I know, as soon as I see him handing Tyler his name card. It is nice of him – and I know it means a lot for the boy, too. At least now he has something – ou someone – to turn to.
I watch as they walk into the house, I don’t want to let them go. “This sucks,” I mutter to Morgan, as I see a glimpse of another boy from the window. I turn my back, leaving my cœur, coeur with the children in the house. They deserve more... but my hands are tied. I curse the system, I curse the people in the system for not working fast enough, for not doing their job to save the kids.
We’re just leaving when the phone rings. I fasten my seatbelt, waiting for morgan to finish his conversation with Hotch.
“Backpack? No, why would we chercher the back...” The loud bang cut him.
We look at each other in a divisé, split second, fearing for the worst. Then, as if time slows down on us, we get out of the car and run towards the house. My cœur, coeur was beating fast. I pray for the little girl, I pray for Tyler. No, please, don’t let anything happen to them.
morgan opens the door effortlessly and I follow his lead. My mind races as I hear morgan shouts Tyler’s name. The lady is lying on the floor, foetal position, as if doing so will protect her from the bullets.
Even though I am disgusted par her, par what she’s done, I ask her, “Are toi hurt?” when she réponses no, I turn my attention to him.
Tyler is shaking with gun in his hands. His eyes are wide with fear and shock – but I don’t see rage there, which makes my cœur, coeur hurts more. This child is hurt, has been hurt, but instead of shooting the person who has hurt him, he has chosen to get rid of the fake memories they have created.
“They’re lies,” His voice shaking, eyeing the broken pictures.
morgan talks to him softly, and he puts his gun away. I want to put mine away, too – this child will not hurt us, but it will be reckless, considering the gun is loaded. It feels like forever before Tyler finally gives morgan the gun. It feels like forever before child service comes and takes the children away. It feels like forever before morgan drives away, saying nothing on our way back.
***
“You okay?” JJ’s soft voice brings me back from my thoughts.
I look at her intensely. Am I okay? I don’t know. How can I be okay after what happened? How can I be okay, knowing that a child’s life is ruined forever because someone murdered her family? How can I be okay, knowing that those so-called ‘foster parents’ – the ones that should have provided the children with better lives – are actually the ones who abused them, tortured their souls? How can I be okay after all that?
Again, out of practice – the one my mother taught me a long time ago, I reply, “Yeah.” No one needs to know how raw my pain is – at least not now.
It took scenes from Children of the Dark (3x04).
Never Good
As I help the little girl out of the car, reassuring her that everything is going to be okay, I notice that morgan is talking to the boy. I can’t hear what he is saying but I think I know, as soon as I see him handing Tyler his name card. It is nice of him – and I know it means a lot for the boy, too. At least now he has something – ou someone – to turn to.
I watch as they walk into the house, I don’t want to let them go. “This sucks,” I mutter to Morgan, as I see a glimpse of another boy from the window. I turn my back, leaving my cœur, coeur with the children in the house. They deserve more... but my hands are tied. I curse the system, I curse the people in the system for not working fast enough, for not doing their job to save the kids.
We’re just leaving when the phone rings. I fasten my seatbelt, waiting for morgan to finish his conversation with Hotch.
“Backpack? No, why would we chercher the back...” The loud bang cut him.
We look at each other in a divisé, split second, fearing for the worst. Then, as if time slows down on us, we get out of the car and run towards the house. My cœur, coeur was beating fast. I pray for the little girl, I pray for Tyler. No, please, don’t let anything happen to them.
morgan opens the door effortlessly and I follow his lead. My mind races as I hear morgan shouts Tyler’s name. The lady is lying on the floor, foetal position, as if doing so will protect her from the bullets.
Even though I am disgusted par her, par what she’s done, I ask her, “Are toi hurt?” when she réponses no, I turn my attention to him.
Tyler is shaking with gun in his hands. His eyes are wide with fear and shock – but I don’t see rage there, which makes my cœur, coeur hurts more. This child is hurt, has been hurt, but instead of shooting the person who has hurt him, he has chosen to get rid of the fake memories they have created.
“They’re lies,” His voice shaking, eyeing the broken pictures.
morgan talks to him softly, and he puts his gun away. I want to put mine away, too – this child will not hurt us, but it will be reckless, considering the gun is loaded. It feels like forever before Tyler finally gives morgan the gun. It feels like forever before child service comes and takes the children away. It feels like forever before morgan drives away, saying nothing on our way back.
***
“You okay?” JJ’s soft voice brings me back from my thoughts.
I look at her intensely. Am I okay? I don’t know. How can I be okay after what happened? How can I be okay, knowing that a child’s life is ruined forever because someone murdered her family? How can I be okay, knowing that those so-called ‘foster parents’ – the ones that should have provided the children with better lives – are actually the ones who abused them, tortured their souls? How can I be okay after all that?
Again, out of practice – the one my mother taught me a long time ago, I reply, “Yeah.” No one needs to know how raw my pain is – at least not now.
