Loving Deeds for the Children

It’d been some time since Hawkinson met with Thadius Powers for an individual session. After the youth was put on ban to Sunflower for therapeutic reasons, he flat out refused to meet with Hawkinson or any of the other therapists. He shut down which left him at a treatment stand still. The troubled youth sat across from Hawkinson with a bizarre look in his eyes. Deeply, he still blamed the senior counselor for messing up his distorted relationship with Sunflower. Hawkinson sat quietly until the youth was ready to process. The silence didn’t seem to bother the socially inadequate misfit who had spent several days at a time in confinement when he was in corrections. When Hawkinson would write something in his notes the youth would grow paranoid and attempted to catch a glimpse of what was on the paper. When he would look up from his notes, the youth would look away. Curiosity was starting to get the best of Powers. He asked Hawkinson what was he writing. He responded by informing him he was taking notes on his session. “But I haven’t said anything,” Powers said. “Exactly,” Hawkinson said still writing. “I was told in order to graduate I had to attend these shitty individual sessions.” “You do.” “Well I’m fricking here.” “But you’re not actively participating.” “Goddamn it man, what do you fricking want me to say?” he asked in a frustrated tone popping up on the edge of his chair in an aggressive manner. “Whatever comes to heart and mind,” Hawkinson responded looking the youth square in the eye. The aggravated youth stomped his foot as he slammed back in his chair with such force, nearly knocking himself over. He began grunting and twisting in his chair trying to control the developing rage within. Hawkinson stopped writing and sat his pen down, touched his fingers together and slightly leaned forward on the edge of his chair. Powers began releasing animalistic type sounds and grunts as tears streamed down his face. Hawkinson assured the youth he was there, ready to listen and support whenever he was ready to release. The disturbed behaviors went on for the next several minutes before Powers calmed down and spoke. He told Hawkinson repeatedly how much he hated himself for allowing others to treat him like crap all his life. Not only did he hate himself, he hated his mother for not being there for him, and he hated the people who were there. Powers was a system baby from birth. His mother was a cocaine addict. Before she gave birth to Thadius, his four other brother and sisters were removed from the home by the Department of Children & Family Services (DCFS). Powers expressed that he became a ward of the state barely out of the womb. It was evident to Hawkinson that the youth was a drug baby. His distorted features and extreme lack of impulse control proved to be self-evident. The youth went on to tell Hawkinson that his first memory ever was watching one of his foster mother’s boyfriends ram her head through a glass window. He was no older than three to four years of age. He remembered crying and no one attending to him in the midst of the chaos. The boyfriend would beat on her and she in return would beat on the children. The youth expressed that many times, he would be flung across the room or tossed into a chair because of his hyperactivity. The only way the foster mother felt she could control the children was the way her boyfriend controlled her, through physical aggression. The youth stared off into space as he ventured off into the next part of his life. DCFS intervened again and placed him with another foster family. He stayed with this particular family until he was about eight. Powers expressed that the home was governed by a foster mom that dictated orders from the couch while watching a television that was her pride and joy. He said she ate tv dinners, read tv magazines and slept on the couch in front of her tv. The foster mother loved her tv so much that none of the seven children could touch or watch her television unless they watched what she was watching. One day the house mysteriously caught on fire. One of the children tried to tell the foster mother but she was too busy lying on the couch watching t.v. By the time the foster mom smelled the smoke it was too late. The flames spread throughout the house quickly. Fortunately everyone escaped unharmed, even the foster mother who never got off the couch except to use the restroom and go to the refrigerator. “Everything in the house burned up, especially that goddamn tv,” Powers said with a deviant smile as he relived the moment. He continued by telling Hawkinson that the foster mother neglected him, which according to him was worse than any physical abuse he ever endured. Powers was happy that the foster mother lost her tv, but he was sad that he and all the other children had to split up and go to other foster homes. “Did you start the fire and burn up the t.v.?” Hawkinson asked Powers. The youth cleared his throat and chose not to answer.