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Sapphire’s Hope
Her name is Saphire. It took me weeks to get that much out of her. She came to me a cowering child, clutching a teddy bear. It was obvious that was her security blanket. I had been warned that she rarely spoke. She was skittish, her short history was that of abuse.
I decided to adopt her anyway. Something in her eyes told me she was meant to be my child. I was to give her the safety of a loving home. It would take time but I knew I had to try and reach her. Saphire had spent most of her life being beaten and abused, and when someone finally stepped in she was shuffled from one foster home to another.
No wonder her files said she had attachment issues. She spent hours by herself, clutching that teddy bear. I did not know all of her stories, but her scars spoke of outrageous torture and abuse. I wondered to myself not for the first time, how anyone could hurt a child in that way. I loved children, and I could not imagine hurting a child, let alone my own child.
Looking at the scars, seing Saphire broken and abused, made me physically sick. She was a beautiful child, but her short past was an ugly one. That teddy bear was probably the only way she felt love. I could not pry it from her hands, even to wash it, without her flying into a fit of rage.
Saphire was seven when she came to me. Her vocabulary though was that of a two year old. She was…
