Chydra A True Story

I am haunted by the 11 year old face of Chydra. She was found curled up in a ball, sleeping up against the side of her school building at 11:00 PM on a cold, wet December night. An officer picked her up and brought her into the police station and I got my first glimpse of her; impossibly thin, with a beautiful face – and she smiled at me. I smiled back. A runaway, I thought. I checked the brief sheets – no one had reported a missing child. Wouldn’t a parent be crazy with worry after missing their child for 8 hours? You’d think so. I know I’d be tearing up the streets looking for that child.

Soon an officer came in and told me part of Chydra’s story. She had been whipped across her legs with an extension cord by her mother that morning because she had received a low grade on her report card, and had been told she would get more of the same from her father that night. Afraid to go home, she simply stayed at the one place that represented safety for her – school. How sad that an 11 year old child doesn’t think of home and safety in the same sentence.

As I listened to this, I could feel my heart being squeezed in my chest. I continued to do my job of dispatching, but my mind wasn’t on the task at hand. Finally, I could stand it no more, and I made my way back to the empty courtroom where she was sitting. I sat down next to her and started talking to her. Quiet, polite, wide-eyed, she seemed to bask in the attention I was giving her. When I told her I’d see her again in a little while, she asked if I would give her a hug. Wild horses could not have kept me from hugging that child tightly.

A while later I was with her again, with a detective this time. He explained to her that if she had any injuries, we would have to take pictures of them. She smiled her sunlit smile and said it was OK if I took the pictures while the detective turned his back. I was amazed that this child who suffered such indignities in her life still had a shred of dignity inside her. But then, she was to amaze me many more times before the night was over.

I was not prepared for what I saw. She pulled her pants down and there were raised welts on her legs, but that wasn’t all. She had deep, U-shaped scars on her legs. Chydra, I asked her gently, how did you get these? Her dad, she said, had beaten her with his belt and the scars were where the buckle had cut her. From the way she said it and the look on her face, I knew it to be true. The squeezing of my heart became a tearing pain.

I sat with Chydra for hours that night. We played Gameboy and talked about our lives, and more than once I was struck by her sunny disposition. Such a loving child – I couldn’t stop touching her hand, her shoulder, hugging that frail body. She craved the affection. Come to think of it, so did I.

The CPS worker showed up, and asked me to sit in on the interview with them. She asked Chydra questions, and out came the rest of her story. Her parents regularly beat her with an extension cord. More than once she had been forced to strip down to her underpants, and was then bound hand and foot to the bedpost and beaten by one or both parents. Her father had many times threatened to kill her. Her mother told her she would lock her out of the house and Chydra wouldn’t be her child anymore. The tear in my heart got deeper. Chydra, my love, you can be my child. I would love you forever and show you the true meaning of home.

Her 6 year old brother, she said, was also beaten with an extension cord several times, but always with his clothes on so he wouldn’t be scarred. I knew those kids’ scars went much deeper than skin. The fire in my heart became as hot as the fires of hell.

Chydra said her father told her he was going to shoot her beloved puppy. She said the puppy had been beaten with an extension cord by her father – a weak man’s weapon of choice, it seems.

Chydra did not shed a tear. She told the story matter-of-factly. She accepted that she was going to be beaten and that the storybook family would never be hers. That big chunk of my heart finally severed and flew into that child’s body.

When CPS was finally ready to take Chydra to a shelter, she came to me. I wrapped my arms around her and held her tightly for a long time. I love you, little girl. Be brave, be strong, know that in your dysfunctional world, someone’s heart shares your body, and you will never be forgotten.

God, please take care of her For me. I will cry about this when I get home.

This True Life Story Authored BY: Sally (Keef) Loss ,
a 911 Dispatcher in Central Texas, on 12-10-94 5:26AM