Child’s Voice: I didn’t mean to do it. It was an accident. A.. a… a mistake. You must believe that. Mommy says… Mommy says they’re going to come take me away. I don’t wanna go. This, this is my home. I don’t wanna leave my home. Introduction (Normal Voice): We all make mistakes due to judgement errors. Some are a bit more serious than others. We learn from them, put the aside, and go on with our lives. When we are young we make the most mistakes of all and sometimes they are much more serious incidents because children don’t know the difference between right and wrong. That responsibility is for the parents to teach their children. And while the child is learning these moral codes it is the responsibility of the parents to watch their children and make sure serious judgement errors are not made. This story, “I Remember her Face,” takes us through the live of Kathy, who made a mistake as a child that was a bit more deadly than most mistakes made by children. Child’s Voice: They’re here to take me away today. I said I was sorry. But… but… they didn’t seem to care. No body cares anymore. Except Mipsy, my bunny. She’s my only friend now. I remember my Mommy’s face when she came in. It was all red. And… and she asked what happened. And… and… I said it bit me so… so… I shook it. She called Daddy and… and he came and… and… took it out of the house. And Mommy sent me to my room. And then… then she told me they’d come take me away. I showed her my finger and she… she just shook her head. It bit me! And I have a booboo and… and… no one cares. I still remember (mix voice) Teenage Voice: her face. It was so red. And terrified. I remember playing with the baby. I remember it biting my finger. I remember shaking it. I remember killing my baby sister. But most of all I remember my mother’s face as she came into the room and saw what I had done. That more than anything is what haunts me. Her face. Don’t get me wrong. I know what I did was wrong. I took a human life. But I was five! If anything it was my mother’s fault. Leaving me alone in the room with the baby. I didn’t truly understand what I was doing. Oh, but I knew how mad my mother was as she stood there red in the face and screaming at me with little tears starting to form in her eyes. That, that is what I remember most. They let me out. I’m going to a new school. They say that being with non-criminals will help me. Help my morals grow better. They think it will help the pain go away. I don’t know why they think so. I stand here and listen to the others talk about the war and how awful it is that people are dying. And all I can think is that I took a human life. I took a human life! The other kids, they don’t understand. The kids don’t realize how I could have done it. I stand by myself, so terribly aware of the looks I’m receiving. And They ask why I don’t (mix voice) Adult Voice: Interact with the people. (laughs) I go to work everyday and see these people and they’re all smiling and happy. Going about in their blissful little lives. It’s all I can do to not stand up as they walk by my desk and strangle the damn people. I mean there I am typing away and they come up smiling, and asking me how I’m doing. Like they know me! Like they know the pain I carry! It’s enough to make me sick. And They ask why I don’t interact with people. Look, it’s not like I don’t know that what I did was wrong. I get it. It’s wrong what I did to the baby. It’s wrong to want to hurt these people that I work with. I get it. Time to let it go. They say that only after I’m able to put it in my past can I begin to heal. I’ve put it in my past. I’ve learned from it and gotten over it. But you know, it’d be so much easier to keep it in my past, if they stopped talking about it! But, no, They have to keep bringing it up. You see, I see Them almost every day. And it always goes the same way. They ask “How are you?” And I answer “Great. Work is going amazingly well. I’m getting money. I’m living on my own!” And then They ask “And work’s going well?” I press my lips and nod because I had just told Them how work was going. And then They ask “So do you want to talk about That Night?” That’s how They say it too. That Night. Like it’s some title or something. And, so some times, I play dumb, to have my amusement. I’ll answer, “Which night? My friends and I went to a dance club a couple of nights ago. And I remember this night a couple of years ago…” And They interrupt me. “You know what night we mean. The night you killed your sister.” And I just give them that pointed stare I nailed way back when this all began. I mean, it’s not like I don’t remember that night in perfect clarity. And it’s not like They don’t know it in better than perfect clarity. I’ve only told Them every day for the last seventeen years. “Only once you can talk about it can you put it behind you.” It just makes me so angry. I would put it behind me… if They didn’t keep mentioning it every chance They get! I remember it clearly. When I fall asleep at night it’s all I can think about. The silence because the screams had finally stopped after weeks. The stillness of the body because the life had finally left. And most of all my mother’s red face. I remember it. I remember it every free moment I have. When other’s would be day dreaming… I am haunted by a remembered face. Sometimes I blame my mother. It was her fault for leaving me alone in the room with the baby. Sometimes Teenage Voice: I blame myself. What I did was wrong. I know that now. But mostly Child’s Voice: mostly I blame Them. They took me away from my home. And They never Teenage Voice: ever, ever leave it Adults Voice: Alone.