Ms. Henly

“STOP!” screamed a woman tears and snot running freely down her face. “Just stop!” She sobbed wrapping her arms around herself.

I ignored her and kept on pressing down on the flimsy rib-cage praying to God to save this one. My team surrounded the bed working, each knowing their jobs.

“Another round of epi!” was the only other voice besides the crying woman, beeping machines, oxygen pressure and footsteps. Everyone else whispered to each other.

“Epi, given at 7:59.” One of the nurses spoke up to another who was in the corner writing furiously on a patient chart.

“I said STOP!” The woman was now beside me, pushing two techs out of the way she grabbed my arm and pinched as hard as she could. “STOP!” She bellowed in my ear just as the trauma team arrived.

I exchanged looks with Dr. Gavenston who shook his head, we had been working against time for the past hour. I looked back to the team and nodded my head.

Someone took my spot and started another round of compressions. I took off my blue gloves, navigated between several people taking my time and gathering my thoughts I reached the trash can and let out a sigh, it was going to be a long day.

Dr. Gavenston had taken the distraught woman out of the room he was talking quietly to her. She leaned against the wall bent at the waist ignoring the Kleenex in front of her. I walked over to her, each step carried the weight of the world.

“Ms. Henly?” I asked as gently as I could. Her head came up, her dark brown eyes stared at me with a mix of hatred and betrayal.

“I told you to stop.” Her voice sent shivers down my spine.

“Ms. Henly we’re doing everything we can—”

“Stop, working on him.” She was now standing tall, walking towards me her hands balled into fists shaking with every step. “How dare you. Why would you keep going, breaking every bone in his body with your oversized club of a hand?” Even though she was several inches shorter, she met me eye to eye.

“Would you like to see your son? Is there anyone we can call?” I lowered my voice trying to make it sound comforting.

“Just stay away from my boy, you killed him.” She pushed passed me and stalked to the closed curtain she paused long enough to turn back to me, “His death is on your hands.”

I walked in behind her, in the middle of the white linen bed laid a broken body. A little baby, six months old lay sprawled, his little fists clenched, wires hooked onto every part of his body which was almost translucent. Ms. Henly pushed a nurse out of the way and grabbed him screaming his name over and over again; Johnny.

Three days later I picked up the morning newspaper and choked on my coffee burning my tongue and throat as the liquid scorched on its way down. A mug shot of Ms. Henly’s face covered the front page.

Mother To Stand Trial for Murder of Six Month Old.

Anna Henly was taken in to custody after Johnny Henly was pronounced dead at LockWood General. Autopsy reports show high levels of bleach and multiple broken bones in various stages of healing. Henly is to go on trial for first degree murder in mid-August. Johnny Henly’s funeral will be held on Saturday, August 1st.

For some reason I felt compelled to go to his funeral I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about his little body and his mother’s last words; His death is on your hands. I called the funeral home to find out what time he was to be buried and they gave me the time.

Saturday arrived and I dressed in my best suit. I drove across town to the cemetery near the Catholic Church. I pulled into a gravel driveway and was surprised to see only one car in the lot. I feared I had gotten the wrong address until I saw two men carrying a small wooden casket between them. I threw my car into park and stumbled over my shoes as I hurried to catch up.

The priest was waiting beside a shallow grave, there was four of us all together to bless his soul for his passing.

“Do you want to add anything?” The priest asked after he prayed over the body. I was surprised he was looking at me. For some reason I wanted to say something I cleared my throat and ran my hand through my hair as I knelt by the tiny little box.

“Hey. I am so sorry, you held on for such a long time with all that pain." Tears fell down my face. "I hope you find some happiness where ever you may be."

Shaking my head I walked away life was so unjust. With each step I shed more tears realizing how much was lost. There would be no first steps, no kindergarten graduation, no first kiss, not even a first smile. There was only pain.