My Side Of The Story: Arrest

I told her everything. Not only what had happened that day, but about how bad it had been before and how I was afraid that it would go back to the way it used to be. I also told her about the sexual aspects. How it started, how he continued to make his moves while I was asleep, and how he would do "casual" things like lick me and pass it off as just something he was doing playfully.

When the social worker came, she examined my mouth, looked at the wound he had left, and she made me start all over and tell her everything from the beginning. They always fucking do that. Any worker, any doctor, any hospital, cop-they always make you talk to a whole bunch of people, and each one of then want you to start from the beginning.

"Well, Soojin, the mark on your mouth isn't enough for me to do anything. I'm gonna have to send you back home and talk to your parents."

Send me back home-is she serious? Doesn't she think something would happen? "...And then what?"

"We'll have to see. We don't know yet."

It wasn't just my parents' reactions I was afraid of. My grandparents on my fathers' side were currently visiting like they usually do once a year. I didn't want them to see this shit. If they found out I'd told, I didn't know what they'd do.

So I went home, but did not actually enter the house. I stayed around the area, pacing back and forth, until I saw my grandmother exit the house followed by the social worker who had spoken to me, and then my father.

"Get in the house, get in the house!" My grandma said to me in Korean, looking closely at my face. "The blood on your face-he did that, didn't he? I may not be good with English, but I know who that woman is, and I can tell what's going on. Get in the house and we'll discuss this."

The worker approached her from behind, looking at her strangely for she couldn't understand the language. "Miss, may I talk to the young lady for a moment?"

Grandma didn't understand and I had to tell her in Korean to give us some space. Reluctantly, she went away, still watching us from the sidelines.

"The cuts in your mouth aren't enough evidence, and they have no history with us or anything, so you're gonna have to go home." she said. "Now, as far as the sexual allegations, we'll look further into it, but I've made sure to tell them that they're not allowed to hit you, so you're protected."

I didn't want to get in the house. Even after the worker drove off, I just walked further away. I didn't make any move towards the house whatsoever until dad decided to speak up.

"Soojin. Get in here."

Then I had no choice.

"Forget about the sins you've committed against your mother and father-for what you've done to your brother, you must be punished." Those were his words. "Do you know they interrupted him in school, took him from class and questioned him? He was in a trauma!"

"I didn't ask to-"

"Oh, so now you think you can tell me about medical terms?"

Not what I was doing, but I didn't have room to speak. That would just anger them further. On his right, my stepmom (who I still believed to be my mother at that point) cried on his shoulder, talking about what a golddigger I was.

"Do you care about anything but the law? You're willing to exploit us in order to get yourself to a rich American family, aren't you?" she kept saying. "That's what it is, that's exactly what it is! I carried you for nine months, almost died giving birth to you, and this is how you repay me?"

"She's been like this since the day she was born." Dad sighed, then chuckled. "No wonder they didn't believe you. It doesn't matter whether you were telling the truth or not, they didn't believe you! And don't worry, even though you deserve much more than just a couple of smacks, I won't hit you. I can't. You've made sure of that."

What they had me do was close my eyes and stand facing the wall. I must have been standing there for like three to four hours, because I started to get dizzy and my legs felt like they were gonna collapse. They kept shouting about things. Shouting about how I took advantage of their love and drained them of their money. How I destroyed and neglected my brother.

I will tell you now-I do agree with them on that part. If there's one person in the world I'd allow to beat me, it's my brother. It's been six years since then and if my parents ever touched me now, I'd literally kill them-but I'd let my brother do whatever he wanted with me. Because this one incident wasn't the end of it.

I focused on a spot on the wall and hummed songs in my head. That helped me take my mind off the freezing cold in the Grand Canyon and it would help me drown out whatever it was they were saying. I just kept humming and humming and humming-not out loud, but in my mind. And soon, they had left the room and my grandma came downstairs to tell me to go to bed.

I spent even more time away from the house after that. If I came home, I made sure to leave again to make sure we would never be in the house together. I don't know why people think it's a good idea to put people in the same house together when there's this kind of tension in between them.

One morning, it was a snow day and the doorbell rang. I answered the door to see the woman who would be my social worker for the next four to five years. The judgmental little bitch who would make my life hell. Who was always against me. Who violated my privacy, went through my stuff, and lied about me in my files. The person who downplayed everything I went through. I hate her. Saying the bitch's name makes my blod boil.

"Good morning!" A heavy-set white woman in her fourties with short, cropped curly red hair and blue-green eyes greeted me. This was Nancy Attikan. "I'm from the Department of Social Services, just here to make sure everything is all right. Is it okay if I step in?"

She came in the house and asked me the same kind of questions the social workers always ask. How are you doing? Is everything okay? Have they done anything to you recently? And of course, to let her know if they touched me again. Nancy admitted that she isn't in this to help anyone, and that the only reason she's a social worker is because when she was in college she realized this is all she's good at. She would also side with my parents because she had taken a liking to them during their meetings. She this weird bitterness about her, this self-hatred thing going on where she likes to project her insecurities on others and neds to make herself feel bigger by putting others down. She'd often snoop through my things after that.

And I'm not even a fan of Britney's or anything, but what gives Nancy the right to say "I hope Britney's sister doesn't turn out to be a trainwreck like she is!" aboutn someone that she's never even actually met? Oh yeah, cause gossip you hear through the media is always 100% accurate apparently. They can't possibly twist things around to sell more magazines and comepletely and totally leave out a lot of things. Just goes to show how ignorant and judgmental she is. I hate people who judge others by what they hear, that's why I hate that Mariana Burke too, fuck you bitch, assuming things about me based on what you heard even though you only meet me for 2 seconds every 6 months or so. You judgy little cunt, assuming that what you hear has got to be automatically true and there couldn't possibly be anything going on that you don't know about, that people aren't telling you about. You really think the foster parents are going to tell you about how they repeatedly mistreated me for being Asian? Oh but you didn't consider that because you and Nancy are spoiled white people that revel in your white privilege day to day and have no idea what it's like to be ostracized. And you're a judgmental cuntrag you thinks that everything you hear MUST be true and if I'm having issues, it MUST be just that I have a bad attitude and there can;t possibly be anything going on that the files aren't telling you about.

In the movies, the minute a secret comes out, they immediately seperate the kid from the parent and the kid goes to a happy and loving family and everything is great from then on.

The real world doesn't work that way.

I came home around 8 p.m. one weekday and received a phone call from my "mother".

"So yeah, we're here at the police station right now. They're interrogating your father." She said bitterly. "Did you...go to the counselor again?"

"No, I didn't." That was the truth. I didn't.

"...Make yourself some dinner. We'll be home after this is over."

That night, there was another dreaded "family meeting".

"Sexual abuse-sexual abuse?" she screamed. "Wow, you have no limits, do you? You'll do anything for money! So now that your little plot didn't work, you're making up lies on top of it! Alright, fine! For you to take it this far, something must have happened. He must have accidentally brushed against you."

Until that point, no matter what she said about me, I kept everything a secret from her. When she expressed confusion and disdain at me, I didn't blame her because I had not told her what had happened-she couldn't possibly have known. But now, now that she was saying these kinds of things, and my father was just sitting there, staring at a wall...I shook my head no.

"So what, he was fondling you?"

I nodded. My dad, once again, just sat there.

"Oh, wow, you're out of your fucking mind! You? You! It's like I'm not even here! What makes you think he'd be interested in you?"

That hit me like a ton of bricks.

I had always thought that no matter how bad she was, once she found out what was going on, there was no way she could keep saying these things to me. She was one of those victim-blamers that thought people who wore tank tops deserved to be raped (she lectured me once about wearing tank tops using that reason), but I hadn't thought she would take his side even after learning the truth. I didn't know what to think about her. I tried to give her chances and get along with her, but now I didn't know.

"You idiot." My dad spoke up. "What kind of body could you possibly have at eleven?"

I don't know. You tell me. I don't know what you could possibly have seen in an eleven year old girl, your own daughter no less. I would've thought that it would disgust people. I don't know how your mind works.

He got up, picked up the chair he was sitting on, and made like he was about to throw it at me, then put it back down.

"Don't worry, I can't hurt you, no matter how bad you deserve it. You've made it so you can do whatever you want to me and hurt me however you want, but I can't do a simple thing like discipline you. You really think I deserve this?"

He then started to cry. He fucking cried. That was the first time I'd seen him do anything like that in my life.

"...I think by coming to America, I've made a mistake." he muttered. "They have no values of any kind here, these Americans...and you take full advantage of it. I gotta...save some money and get back to Korea. Then we can deal with you. For now, face the wall."

I faced the wall and stood there while they went upstairs to talk. I could make out bits and pieces of their conversation, specifically the part where he said they had him on tape so called "confessing", but he said he "didn't mean it like that, he was just checking for development" and my stepmom fussed at him, saying "well then you should've told them that and not messed up your words".

For the remainder of the night I sat there putting ice on my eyes to reduce swelling. That was what I did when I had to go to school in the morning but had cried overnight and did not want to go to school looking weird. I was still doing that when the doorbell rang around six a.m. the next day.

"Is your father here?"

It was a young man in a suit. Another social worker, I guessed, here to check on me. I went and got my dad, scared as I was (it was like DSS just wouldn't stop), and went to my room to change and get my bookbag.

But it wasn't like any of the other visits.

Went I came outside, dad was following the man to his car, and my "mother" was standing at the door, crying. She looked at me and sighed.

"Don't worry, just...focus on school. You've got midterms coming up. Study hard."

Where was this coming from? I didn't get my answer until the two men were right next to the man's car. Before opening the door for my dad, the man-who I now guessed was a detective of sorts-slapped metal handcuffs apon my father with a loud click. When that click resounded in the cul-de-sac, my "mother" let out yet another sob before shutting the door to our house behind her.

They drove off, and after standing in place for a while with my mouth wide open, tried to get back inside the house. She would know what just happened. But my "mother" didn't open the door no matter how hard I knocked, and I gave up and walked to the bus stop.