Chapter 3 - The pediatric examination
Pippa was examined that evening.
No broken bones.
No signs of acute physical assault.
A small scrape on one knee she said came from playing two days earlier.
Mild insect bites around both ankles.
Nothing medically dramatic.
That should have comforted me.
It did not.
Dr. Marissa Lang asked Pippa questions while I sat several feet away.
“Where do you usually sleep?”
“My room.”
“Anywhere else?”
Pippa looked at me.
Then:
“Outside sometimes.”
“Where outside?”
“The dog house.”
Dr. Lang did not react visibly.
“Is it a doghouse like a little house, or something else?”
“The cage.”
“Do you sleep there alone?”
Pippa nodded.
“Does someone stay nearby?”
“Greer checks.”
My eyes moved toward the wall.
Greer.
“Does Camilla tell you how long?”
“No.”
“What happens before you sleep there?”
“When I’m bad.”
“What does bad mean?”
Pippa shrugged.
“Crying. Lying. Sneaking food. Not listening.”
Dr. Lang asked:
“Are you locked inside?”
Another nod.
“How do you use the bathroom?”
That answer broke something in me.
“Bucket.”
I stood.
Then immediately sat again.
Dr. Lang looked at me.
“Mr. Norwood, I need you to remain calm.”
“I am.”
May you like
I wasn’t.
But I stayed seated.
