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  • This one got to me. I think because I could see the pain that she was hiding. The bruises on her face, back, arms, and legs, along with the gashes on her head and the self inflicted burns were merely hiding an even deeper, less visible pain.
    She was numb from trying to cover up the insanity that had become her life. My job was not to decide what was true but to just be there.
    The Clairol strawberry blonde had begun to grow out of her long, thick hair. The SANE nurse (sexual assault nurse examiner) and I searched for gashes on her scalp to photograph for evidence. Bruises the size and shape of a boot showed on her back, two weeks later.
    I held her hand and told her she was doing good when there was nothing good about it.
    The insanity of meth and sexual abuse and children and chaos came to a halt by divine intervention wearing a badge.
    One could only hope that she was on her way out of hell.
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