The Social Worker

The faded yellow, old school bus drove Ellie home everyday from school. The black cushioning was falling apart on the chair, leaving some of the metal framework visible and very uncomfortable. Today was just like any other day, and that was what Ellie was afraid of. Her soft blonde hair was pulled tightly back into a ponytail with a hot pink hairband. The bottom of her hair bounced with a slight curl, and her books would often fall out of her lap, as the bus would hit rough spots on the road. She was close enough now that she could see the stop sign where the bus would come to a stop and she would exit. Normally any ten year old would love to get off of the dreaded, stinky and hot bus. Ellie sometimes wished the ride never ended. The screeching breaks and slight whiplash indicated that the bus was now at her stop. She slowly stood, and her short sunkissed legs began to walk down the black crated center aisle. As she reached the steps to her right she exited the bus and stepped down on the gravel road. This was the entrance to her neighborhood and she could see him walking from her house, greeting her with a smile and they walked back to the house.

After dinner Ellie went into her bedroom to play with her Barbie dolls. Just as the male doll, Ken, and Barbie were about to kiss at their wedding, Ellie heard the noise again. This noise was so common to hear that she could almost tune out completely. This time the noises were louder so she ran to check on her Mom. She tiptoed into the living room so that she could get a better ear on the kitchen. She knew they were fighting again. Her bottom lip began to quiver and drool began to run down onto her light blue play shirt. Huge salty tears began to run down her face as she heard her mother scream for help over and over again. Without even making a sound, Ellie's father Josh went to look for her and found her in the living room. Grabbing her frail arm, and her size three feet rubbing against the carpet, he dragged her into the kitchen. Ellie could now see the blood that covered the floor from her mother's crooked and bleeding nose. Ellie knew that if she shed a tear then her face would look like her mother's next, but she couldn't hold back anymore. Tears began to pour from her fearful blue eyes as a shadow raised over her face from her father's hand. He punched her and she fell to the floor.

The next morning, Ellie attempted to open both of her eyes but only opened one due to the terrible swelling and blue and black colors over the other eye. She found herself tucked into her hot pink and orange bedspread, in her own bed without any recollection of how she got there. Her parents had already left for school so she had to get ready by herself. She grabbed the closest pair of jeans and a pastel yellow shirt that displayed a beautiful daisy in the middle. She was pulling her hair back into a ponytail, much like the day before, while running to the bus stop. She could see the bus and could hear it's breaks squeeling as the bus came to a stop. With her head faced toward the ground to hide her battle wounds, she quickly got on the bus and sat on the cold black cushion. She hoped that her teacher or none of the other kids would ask about her face, but she ran through a good story she could tell them, incase they did. Of course, they asked her and she made up a story of how she and her Dad were playing softball and the backyard and her eye caught the ball instead of her hand. Everyone laughed when hearing her story, including her.

A loud knock came on Ellie's classroom door and she could see the tall, lanky principal standing outside. The teacher quickly left the room and the students began to throw paper airplanes and talk amongst themselves. Ellie couldn't help but worry that they were talking about her bruises. She saw the principal tell the teacher something that caused her teacher to put her head in her hands. Ellie worried that maybe she was getting fired or something terrible had happened. Something terrible did happen, but not to the teacher. They called Ellie outside and told her there had been an accident, both of her parents passed away. Of course, this was the "G-rated" version. Her dad killed her mom and then burned her in their family car ontop of a bridge. He then jumped off the bridge and commited suicide. The more graphic story was not told to poor Ellie. Upon hearing the news, she collapsed as if every breath of air in her body had been sucked out. Her teacher held her in her arms and they both sobbed.

Ellie stayed with family members until the funeral service. She wore a new black dress that the donation jar at her school bought her. Her blackened eye was now a slight grey color and was barely noticable. She stood between both of her parent's casket, with one hand on each. As much as she hated her father for beating her and her mother, she did not want him to die. He was a good father when he took his medicine. All the questions of what if began to consume her mind. Was there anything she could have done to make their family any better? Was it all her fault?

Years went by and Ellie was quiet. She lived with different family members but felt extremely alone. The what if questions consumed her and she even began to blame herself for the abuse and even their deaths. One day a guest speaker came to speak in Ellie's high school class. She had been sexually abused by her biological father. She talked about different types of abuse and how to deal with them. Ellie fought back the tears for fear of embarassment and she did not want her make-up to run. After the class setting was over, Ellie went to talk to the guest speaker. The nice and gentle toned woman helped Ellie get in touch with counselors and help for her hurt.

Years later there was a young lady who visited an elementary class that Ellie attended. She was a guest speaker for an hour and had a lot to say. She began to explain, in child terms, what abuse was and what to do when they were abused. She began to explain that no one deserves to be treated that way, no matter how bad of a person they think they are or have been. She also told them that not all parents are good parents so there was no need to be embarassed to tell on their parents if it would save their lives or their siblings' lives. The teacher stood in the back of the classroom and cried, remembering the terrible case of abuse and death. Not only was she remembering the terrible events but she was amazed. Ellie was the guest speaker in her class, making sure that no child would ever have to go through the things that she endured.