Boy comes back. I get happy when he starts to take me out of the highchair. I flap my arms and laugh, boy says shutup and sit still. Boy grabs my rattle and sticks it in his pocket.
Boy lifts me out of highchair scraping my legs. No pants on me, just diaper and shirt with old spit up on it. I start to cry, boy and ma say “shutup or you won’t go anywhere.” I stop crying. If I don’t, big hands hit me. I get scared because it hurts.
Boy carries me to moving bed with wheels. Lets me fall in, I hit my head on the side, but it’s okay because Boy throws my rattle next to me. I still don’t cry.
Love going for these rides in the moving bed with wheels. See the bright light in the sky, see trees, and sometimes birdies. Not smoky like inside house, my nose likes it too. I flap my arms and giggle.
Boy pushes bed on wheels and my eyes close and open, close and open and then close.
Eyes open. Back of my head is wet. Leaves up in sky all around me. Bed on wheels isn’t moving. Eyes want to close again. I move my rattle. Boy’s head looks inside bed on wheels. He has spots on his face, and lots of hair on his head. Sometimes people call him Red. Boy says, “close your eyes and go back to sleep.” Boy stands in front of bed on wheels throwing a bouncy ball up in the sky and catches it. I flap my arms, to play. Boy turns away. I move my rattle lots of times, boy still doesn’t look.
Eyes open fast and wide. Boy is tugging at my diaper. I wave my arms. Is Boy picking me up?
Boy looks at me funny. Boy puts his hand inside my diaper. Boy is smiling. I’m making boy happy. I flap my arms and giggle. Boy is never happy.
OUCH! Something under my belly hurts. Something hurts really bad. I cry. Boy says “shutup”. Something is pushing inside of me so hard it makes my head bump against the top soft part of the bed on wheels. My whole body goes back and forth against the top soft part of the bed on wheels. I’m scared. Where’s ma? I’m still crying. Boy is smiling and pushing harder. Boy says. “shutup, mommy says you’re a bastard, shutup you bastard”! I cry more, drop my rattle. Can’t find my rattle, Want my rattle, want my ma. Want boy to stop. I kick my legs, the more I kick the more it hurts.
Boy takes hand out of diaper. Diaper is wet. “Mommy will change your diaper, you wet bastard. Mommy doesn’t like wet bastards.” Boy pushes bed on wheels back home. I am wet, tired and scared.