Keeping Up With The Wind

As I reached Whisper’s front door, I heard another scream and suddenly everything was quiet. Whisper’s mother was standing at the bedroom door with her hand over her mouth when I got there. She gagged and ran to the bathroom, almost knocking me over. Blaze was calmly standing across the room, leaning against the wall, bloody hands folded. Spider was nowhere to be seen. I looked over at Whisper, who was still sitting by the window, staring out into the darkness. “Is he dead?” I was looking down at the limp man’s body, lying no more than a foot from Whisper. I think that he may have come there to take her back. You know, one of those custody things. Although Whisper’s mother was not too much the ideal parent herself, she was far better than the picture that Whisper had painted for us of her father. I jumped at the sound of a voice right next to me. Spider had reappeared. “I called an ambulance.” We all looked over at Blaze. He was still gazing down at the body, expressionless. Whisper’s mother came back in and also looked at Blaze. “Get out.” His gaze shifted soundlessly to her. “I’ll tell them that I did it, that it was self-defense. But you have to leave. Now.” He looked at her for a moment, then slowly unfolded his hands and walked over to Whisper. Forgetting that his fingers were covered in her own father’s blood, he took hold of her hand and began speaking quietly. She didn’t move. He touched her face and I heard him say, “He won’t ever hurt you again.” Then he kissed the top of her head, leaving a bloody handprint on her cheek. Faintly, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Some paramedics rushed into the room, put Whisper’s father onto a gurney and carried him outside. Then the police came. Blaze stood up. Whisper’s mother tried to explain what happened, her version, but she couldn’t hide the fact that Blaze was the one with blood all over his hands. To make a long story short, Whisper couldn’t respond to anyone for over three weeks. Because of this, she was also taken away and put into a padded white room with double plated windows. I didn’t see how committing her could do anything but giver her more problems to think about and more time to do it in. Whisper’s mother was also arrested that night and held in custody as an accessory to murder. They initially thought that she had paid Blaze to kill her ex-husband. Luckily, her ex brother-in-law didn’t have much of an influence over the Alameda police department. They reviewed the man’s records, saw all of Whisper’s and Mrs. Santiago’s complaints and hospital stays, decided that this could have actually been a life or death situation, and released her a few days later. They also eventually gave Whisper back to her mother. I figured that the hospital had by then either realized that the Santiago’s didn’t have any health insurance, or that Whisper would not have to become a ward of the state. Since we were not allowed to see Blaze for the next three months, we spent all of our time with Whisper. About two weeks after she was released from the hospital, Li’l Jay, Faith and I were sitting around talking to each other and trying to talk to Whisper, when suddenly Jay grabbed Whisper’s hand. Looking into her sad, glassy eyes, he said in a stern, angry voice, “I know you can hear me. If you don’t answer me now I’m going to…” then he whispered something else in her ear while stroking the palm of her hand. She had always hated that, and Li’l Jay must have known that it had something to do with her father. At any rate, Li’l Jay got a reaction out of her pretty quick. She snatched her hand away and started screaming, “Stop it! I hate you! I thought you were dead!” Then she collapsed onto the floor, hugging herself and sobbing. Ok…So I know it’s messed up to say, but right then she was straight looking like the outpatient that she was. Case in point: Whisper’s mother, who had also been doubling as her residential nurse, rushed in and within a few minutes had her sedated and tucked back in the bed. A few hours later, the police were called and they were able to find out everything that really happened from Whisper’s own mouth. Realizing that it was in fact self-defense, and that Blaze was only thirteen (this was before children were commonly tried as adults), the charges were officially dropped. Dropped. I told you. My story…our story…is unbelievable. And we haven’t even gotten to that summer, yet. After a few weeks of “paperwork,” Blaze was released. Whisper’s uncle, for not giving up the names of those who he had convinced to conveniently “misplace” records of the initial abusive situation, was fined. Can you believe it? Fined! Life can be so unfair. Whisper’s father died from multiple stab wounds to the throat and chest a few days after Whisper got out of the psychiatric ward.