Memoirs of a Lost Child

While wetting the bed was normal for the other five-years-olds, my experience almost cost me my life. I was sleeping soundly at about 2:00 am when my foster sister began shouting, “Momma, she wet the bed!” In seconds, my foster mother stormed downstairs only to yank me out the bed. She was screaming at me to take off the sheets and put them in a tub of water to wash. I was exhausted and terrified. All I knew was I had to do what she said no matter how frightened I was. I pushed the sheets into the water, again and again, still half-asleep. I felt a firm grip on the back of my head, and in seconds she was thrashing my head in and out of the water like I did the sheets only moments ago. I had barely enough time to get a breath in. All I could hear was the splash of water and my foster mother yelling the words, “You will never pee in the bed again!” I truly thought I was going to die then, but like any other five-year-old, I was told to go back to bed afterward.