Robin (doggykiss3) wrote in someonehelpme,

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I'm stuck

So, I'm writing this story for my ENC1142 (Writing Short Stories) class at FSU, and I'm stuck. The final draft is due Thursday, and I need some help.

Basically, it's about a social worker, fresh out of college, just starting her career, and she gets her first case, a little boy who was hurt by his mother's boyfriend (which I might change to have the mother be hurt instead, since I think the little boy would be put into foster care if that really happened). Anyway, the mother says she won't press charges, and so the social worker leaves and feels like she didn't do any good, and it was a waste. Now she has to realize something, probably that life sucks and you can only help those that want to be helped, but I don't know how she would realize that. I was thinking just do it through dialog with her friend, but that seems boring. My professor said have her sleep with someone, but I don't get how that would help, I think he's just horny. Sooo... any ideas? Pleeeease.

I sit down at my desk and begin searching for the pile of forms I need to fill out. It seems pretty pointless to have spent eight years and thousands of dollars on college studying to be a social worker and help people, when all I end up doing is filling out forms.
“No busy work for you rookie.” I look up and see Lauren, one of my many superiors, “You’re stepping up today. Here, I got a case for you, better get started, they’ve been waiting for a while.” I browse through the file. Boy, age 10, sent in with a fractured wrist and bruises on his upper arms and back. The mother says he and his older brother, age of 16, were rough housing too much. I smile as I hold my first case in my hands, but then feel guilty considering the circumstances. I grab my I.D. badge from the top drawer, clip it on to my ironed, white blouse, and proudly walk towards to elevators to head down to the ER.
Once I enter the small hospital room, I see a young boy lying in the hospital bed asleep, he has an innocent round face with soft skin, and hair matted in sweat, and his left arm is wrapped in an ace bandage and lay across his stomach. A woman, who looks to be in her mid 30’s sits in a chair beside him, holding the young boys hand. She too has fallen asleep. Her body is forward and her head resting on her free arm. In a chair in the back corner of the room sits an older boy, slouching in his seat, and playing with a red Game boy. Lastly, there is a man, middle aged, with thinning dark brown hair. He sits next to the older boy. His arms are folded across his chest and there is a stern look in his eyes. I enter the room and close the door behind me. Everyone but Tim, who remains asleep, turn to me at once.
“I’m sorry, did I startle you?” I ask.
“When are we going to be able to leave? We’ve been here for eight hours.” replies the man, disregarding my question. He stands up suddenly and steps towards me.
“I’m sorry, who are you?” I ask as I look through my chart to see if it says anything about having Tim’s father here.
“I’m Dave, her boyfriend.” he says as he points towards the woman.
“Oh, ok. I’m going to have to ask you to wait out in the lobby, only family members are allowed to be back here.”
“He’s practically my son; I live in the house with him.” I glance towards the older boy in the corner and notice his sullen glare towards the man, and it is apparent to me that this man is not welcome.
“I’m sorry sir, it’s hospital policy.” I say with a polite grin.
“I’ll be waiting out front,” he says to his girlfriend, and walks out of the room.
“I apologize, he’s just agitated from having to wait here so long.” the woman finally says.
“That’s quite all right, no need to be sorry.” I reply as I drag the chair that the man was sitting on, place it so it is facing the woman, and sit with my legs crossed and my chart in my lap. “I just wanted to ask you a few questions about how Tim got those injuries.”
“Oh, you know how boys are when they rough house.” she began.
“I didn’t hurt him! You can’t blame this on me!” the older boy shouts as he puts down his game boy.
“Kyle! There’s no need to yell.” his mother shouts back.
“Kyle, would you mind telling me what you saw?” I say as I turn my body to face the boy.
“Dave went after him, he hurt his arm, he would have done more, if I hadn’t stepped in.” his voice trails off.
“Why did Dave want to hurt him?”
“He doesn’t want to hurt him, he loves him.” his mother says.
“Bullshit.” Kyle comments in a low voice as he slouches back into his chair, and picks up his gameboy.
“Kyle! That’s enough!” she yells back. “Look, Dave doesn’t mean to hurt him, he’s a good guy, he just got carried away, he’s never hurt him before.”
“But he can.” I say.
“But he won’t.” she assures me as she squeezes her son’s hand tighter.
“There are legal actions you can take to be sure of that.”
“You want me to press charges against the man that his stood by me and helped me with my sons? No.” she says sternly as she lets go of the little boys hand and turns her body away from the bed to face me.
“It would just be a simple contract saying he isn’t allowed to come near your sons and if he breaks that order he can be—“
“No!” she cuts me off and turns to face her son again. “I won’t.”
“Alright, then I guess I have no more questions.” I say as I slowly stand up and walk towards the door. I stop, and turn around to face her once more, “But if you ever feel like you need to reconsider that option, for any reason, you can come back and find me.” I walk out into the hall, close the door behind me, and take a deep breath. It was my first case, and I was through. It was my first case, and I failed.
I return to my desk and begin filling my report. “Are we still on for tonight?” asks Sarah as I notice her walk towards my desk. Tonight, what do we have planned for tonight? Oh right, drinks, at that new bar.
“You still want to go out after this horrible day? I don’t know if I can, I think I should just stay home and revive myself.” I finally ask.
“Nonsense,” she pushes aside some papers on my desk and sits with one leg hanging, and the other straight, using it to prop herself up. “We’ve both had a rough day; we deserve to treat ourselves to a night out.” I bet she didn’t have as bad a day as I did. I agree and continue with my paperwork.
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