Chapter Two. Sara's Story. A Home That Love Built Story by Catherine Linda Michel.

From before: “Natalie! Finally! What's going on? Who is this kid you called me about? What's her story?”

“We'd better go inside, to the nurses lounge, Ma'am. I really don't want other ears to hear what I have to say.”

Intrigued, Irene and I followed Natalie to an area that contained a few tables and chairs and assorted vending machines. When we got there, she looked back out at the hallway that led to the room and then, locked the door!

“What's the deal, Natalie? Why lock the door?” I asked.

“Look. The kid I called you about? I found your card with the address of the Home, your name, and phone number on it. I know about your place and what you do. I might not agree with the why of what you're doing, I do think you're doing a lot of good, but that's neither here or there. This kid, she was beaten, raped and stabbed several times. It's a miracle she's alive at all. The doctors are still working on her, trying to get her stable enough so they can schedule further surgery!”

I slumped down into a chair, unable to believe what Natalie had just said, and momentarily too shocked to speak. Irene sat next to me, taking my hands in hers.

“Go on Natalie.” she said.

“We don't have much to go on as far as who did this to this kid. She, and I'm going to refer to her as she, although she has small, shrunken male genitals and what clothes were left after the attack were female, is in severely critical condition. We haven't been able to get anything from her about her name or anything else. No purse, and no I.D. on her either.” Natalie continued.

“I heard one of the cops say that it looks, to him, to be the work of the South Side Bastards gang. It fits their M.O. according to him, and she was found in an alley in their 'hood', with gang signs all over the place, including one carved into her stomach! We've had victims of their violence in here before, and I agree with the cop. I called you, because there's no one else TO call. Without an I.D. I don't know who she is, who her parents are, or anything other than she only has a 20 percent chance of coming through this alive according to the surgeons.”

I just sat there, seething with anger for whoever had done this, and pity for this poor unknown child.

“What can I do?” I finally managed to say. “If it's a question of money, I'll make sure her medical bills are paid, regardless of the cost. Is she conscious at all?”

“Not yet.” Natalie replied. “She'll be in extreme ICU once the doctors have repaired the most major damage and gotten her cleaned up. We've done a rape kit on her already, so that's out of the way. The reason I called you at all was the word I've heard on the street about you. You're regarded as some kind of expert with kids like this, and we're going to need all the help we can get to identify her attackers. We took her fingerprints and will soon know who she is, I hope. Can you stay available so that, when and if she regains consciousness, you can comfort her and try to get her to talk about what happened?”

“Of COURSE I will!” I cried. “Anything I can do to help this poor child, I will do. I, or one of my trusted friends at the Home, will be on 24 hour call. We can be here in a matter of minutes. Please, is there anything else I can do for her? Does she need blood? May I see her?”

“Not for awhile, I'm afraid. She'll be watched 24/7 by skilled nurses until she either regains consciousness, or dies, whichever comes first. I feel horrible for this kid, but dressing the way she did in gang territory was asking for it, if you want my opinion. Maybe she will have a different story to tell when she wakes up, if she does, but until then, I have to assume that she let herself get caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. It's happened before,and until this gang is arrested and put away, it'll happen again.” Natalie said, regretfully, shaking her head.

“Please don't misunderstand me,” she continued, “I sympathize with the transgendered. To feel like you're trapped in the wrong body must be hell, and I'm not passing judgement on any of you or them. I just think that, if one is TG, one HAS to be way more careful when out in public. It's obvious to me that, once this gang found out she wasn't a real woman, they did more damage to her than they might have otherwise. Anyway, if you or someone from your home can stay here, or be here, within minutes, that will be a big help, and thank you so much for coming in so quickly. I'll keep you well posted on her condition.”

“Whatever you need, Natalie, whatever she needs, you and she have it. My word on it. I'll be available 24/7 and either I, or Irene, or Sandra will be here before you hang up the phone. I'm going back to the Home to set a few things up financially to help this poor child. Irene, would you be so kind as to stay here until I call you? I'd really like for someone to be here all the time, at least for the next 24 hours, in case she wakes up.”

“Of course I will, Cathy! When you get back to the Home, wake Sandra and bring her up to date. She can relieve me here at lunchtime. You go back and do what you have to do, and then get some sleep! That's an order!” Irene said with a small grin at me, to let me know that the 'order' thing was her way of being concerned for me.

I left the hospital, driving straight back to the home, where I woke Sandra and told her what was going on. She promised to relieve Irene at noon, and I went to my office to make a few phone calls. I got hold of the hospital administrator and guaranteed the child's medical treatment. Then I contacted my lawyer and asked him to work with the cops to find our the child's name and family. I ordered flowers and some stuffies to be delivered to ICU, to be held for her until she could have them and I put some other less pressing matters aside after dealing with one or two that couldn't wait. Then I lay down on the couch in my office and tried to nap. I didn't think I'd be able to, but within seconds of my head hitting the couch pillows, I was out like a light.

I was awakened by a call from my lawyer, telling me that the child had been identified and her family notified of what had happened to her. From what he said, it didn't seem as if the family was very concerned, but they were going to the hospital to check on the child, probably after lunch.

I took a quick shower, threw on my face and some clothes, and drove back to the hospital, calling Irene to let her know I was on the way over and that the family of the child would probably be there shortly. By the time I got there, there was an argument going on between Natalie and a man who was identified to me as the child's father. He was raging about his 'perverted' son and saying that was the reason for the attack! I actually heard him say that it would be better if the child died, than to have his family living in shame!

I started toward him to give him a piece of my mind, but Irene held me back, turning me away from the argument.

“This isn't the time, Cathy! She whispered fiercely to me. “Let him rage. He's only embarrassing himself, and could very well get violent if you confront him! Let the doctors and hospital security handle it, please?

While I was seething in rage over the behavior of the father, I knew Irene was right. If there was going to be trouble here, it would be much better if HE was the cause of it, instead of me. Shortly after that, security arrived and escorted the father to a private office. That was the last I saw of him that day. Natalie told Irene that she had managed to get the child's name out of his bigot of a father. Shawn Jackson was the child's name, but in his tirade, the father had blurted out another name. Sara. That's the name he said that his little perverted bastard of a son was calling himself!