Chapter Seven: Taken Away

AVA

My hands shook as I opened the door. The woman from Child Protective Services was tall and stern, with gray hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her badge read "Susan Walsh." The man beside her looked younger, maybe in his thirties, with kind eyes that didn't match the official clipboard in his hands.

"Ms. Parker, I'm Susan Walsh from CPS. This is my colleague, David Chen. We've received reports about unsafe living conditions for your son."

"Reports from who?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"That's confidential. May we come in?"

I wanted to slam the door in their faces, but I knew that would only make things worse. I stepped aside and let them into my small apartment. Eli looked up from his toys, curious about the strangers.

Susan's eyes swept the room like a hawk hunting for prey. She pulled out a small notebook and started writing. The scratching of her pen sounded unnaturally loud in the silence.

"How long have you lived here?" she asked.

"About eight months."

"And the rent?"

"Four hundred a month." I didn't mention that it had just been doubled.

David knelt down near Eli, watching him play. "He seems healthy," he said quietly to Susan.

"Appearances can be deceiving." Susan walked to the kitchen and opened my refrigerator. It was mostly empty except for some milk, eggs, and leftover takeout. "When did you last go grocery shopping?"

"Two days ago." It was a lie. I'd been rationing what little food we had.

She opened cabinets, finding them nearly bare. "This is inadequate nutrition for a growing child."

"I was planning to shop tomorrow when I get paid."

"From where? Our records show you were recently terminated from your job at the diner."

My stomach dropped. How did they know that? "I'm looking for new work."

"So you're currently unemployed with no income?"

"It's temporary."

Susan continued her inspection, noting every crack in the wall, every stain on the carpet, every sign of our poverty. David stayed with Eli, who had started to get fussy sensing the tension in the room.

"The bathroom?" Susan asked.

I led her down the short hallway. She examined the small space, running her finger along the tub where some mold had started to grow despite my efforts to clean it.

"This is a health hazard," she said, making more notes.

"I clean it every day. The ventilation isn't good, but I do my best."

"Your best isn't adequate for a child's safety."

We returned to the living room where David was now sitting on the floor with Eli, who was showing him his favorite stuffed elephant.

"He's very social," David observed. "Well bonded with his toys."

"The child shows signs of neglect," Susan said, overriding his positive assessment. "Inadequate nutrition, unsafe living conditions, and an unemployed caregiver with no support system."

"That's not true!" I protested. "I love him. I will take care of him."

"Ms. Parker, we're going to need to remove Eli from this environment temporarily while we conduct a full investigation."

The words hit me like a physical blow. "No. You can't take him."

"We have a court order." She pulled out official looking papers. "This is for his protection."

"He's not in danger! He's safe with me!"

"Look around you, Ms. Parker. No food, mold in the bathroom, unemployed mother. This child deserves better."

David stood up, lifting Eli in his arms. My son looked confused, reaching for me over David's shoulder.

"Mama," Eli said, his little voice breaking my heart.

"Please don't do this," I begged, tears streaming down my face. "He's all I have."

"You'll be allowed supervised visits once a week for two hours," Susan said without emotion. "Comply with our requirements, and you may eventually regain custody."

"What requirements?"

"Stable employment, adequate housing, parenting classes, psychological evaluation."

"A psychological evaluation? You think I'm crazy?"

"We think you need help. The sooner you get it, the sooner you can be reunited with your son."

David was already walking toward the door with Eli, who had started to cry. My baby was reaching for me, tears streaming down his little face.

"Mama! Mama!"

I tried to follow them, but Susan blocked my path. "Ms. Parker, don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Where are you taking him?"

"He'll be placed in a safe, temporary home while we complete our investigation."

"I want to know where!"

"That information will be provided to you when you schedule your first supervised visit."

The door closed behind them, and I collapsed on the floor, sobbing. The apartment felt hollow without Eli's laughter, without his toys scattered everywhere, without his little hands reaching for me.

I don't know how long I lay there crying. Eventually, my phone rang. I ignored it. It rang again and again until finally I answered.

"Satisfied?" I whispered into the phone.

"Ava." Liam's voice was carefully neutral. "I heard what happened."

"You did this. You orchestrated this whole thing."

"I did what was necessary to protect my son."

"He was safe with me!"

"Was he? Unemployed mother, empty refrigerator, moldy bathroom? That's not safe, Ava. That's neglect."

"I was doing my best with what I had!"

"And what you had wasn't enough. It was never going to be enough."

"You destroyed my life."

"I saved Eli's life. There's a difference."

"He's going to hate you for this."

"He'll thank me when he's older and realizes I gave him everything you couldn't."

The line went dead. I threw my phone across the room and screamed until my throat was raw.

++++++++++

A week later, I sat in a sterile room at the CPS office, waiting for my first supervised visit with Eli. My hands were shaking, and I'd changed clothes three times that morning, wanting to look like a competent mother.

David Chen entered the room with a small boy who looked like my son but somehow different. Eli was wearing new clothes, expensive looking ones I'd never seen before. His hair was neatly combed, and he looked well fed.

"Hi sweetheart," I said, kneeling down with my arms open. Eli stared at me for a moment, then hid behind David's legs.

"It's Mama," I said, my voice breaking. "Don't you remember Mama?"

He peeked out at me but didn't move closer. David gently encouraged him forward, but Eli shook his head and clung to the social worker's pants.

"Sometimes children need time to readjust," David said kindly. "It's only been a week, but that's a long time in a toddler's world."

I tried again, pulling out his favorite stuffed elephant from my purse. "Look, Eli. It's Peanut. Remember Peanuts?"

His eyes lit up slightly, but when I reached out to hand it to him, he started to cry. Not the normal fussy cry I was used to, but a frightened, desperate sound that tore my heart apart.

"Mama's here," I whispered, tears flowing down my cheeks. "It's okay, baby. Mama's here."

But he wouldn't come to me. He cried harder when I tried to pick him up, pushing against my chest like I was a stranger.

"Maybe we should cut this visit short," David suggested. "He's clearly upset."

"No, please. I only get two hours. I need more time with him."

"Ms. Parker, forcing interaction when he's distressed won't help either of you."

I sat back on my heels, watching my son cry for someone else's comfort. In one week, I'd become a stranger to my own child.

"Who's been taking care of him?" I asked through my tears.

"He's in a very good foster home. Professional caregivers who specialize in toddlers."

"Does he ask for me?"

David hesitated. "He did the first few days. Less now."

The words were like knives in my chest. My baby was forgetting me.

I looked up as a shadow fell across the doorway. Liam stood there, watching the scene with an expression I couldn't read. His eyes moved from Eli's tears to my devastated face, and for just a moment, I thought I saw something that might have been regret.

But then it was gone, replaced by cold satisfaction.

"Hello, son," he said quietly.

Eli immediately stopped crying and turned toward the familiar voice. My heart shattered completely as I watched my child smile at his father while still afraid of me..