« Children cry when their hair is cut, Michael. They don’t scream in terror when they’re shaved with a razor. »
I heard Paula speaking in the background, but I couldn’t understand the words.
“Paula says you have to bring Monika here immediately, otherwise we’ll call the police,” Michael informed me.
« Excellent, » I replied without hesitation. « Tell Paula to call the police. I’ll be happy to explain to them why my granddaughter has a shaved head and why she’s so terrified of her own mother. »
Michael fell silent. Apparently, Paula hadn’t considered that possibility.
« Besides, » I continued, « I have photos of Monika doing her hair, and I have witnesses to what happened at the party. Brenda and Jonathan saw everything. »
“Mom, please,” Michael’s voice cracked slightly. “Don’t make this difficult.”
“Am I making this difficult for you?” I couldn’t believe his audacity. “Michael, your daughter is in shock. When I asked her if she wanted to stay with me forever, she said yes. Don’t you find that disturbing?”
“She’s just confused.”
“No, Michael, she’s scared and she has the right to be.”
I put my phone down and silenced it. I had to think about my next step. I went to the kitchen and prepared Monica’s favorite dinner—pasta with tomato sauce and cheese. As I cooked, I thought about everything I’d discovered. Cruel comments, threats, constant emotional abuse. This didn’t start yesterday with a haircut. This had been going on for months, maybe even years.
When Monika woke up, we ate dinner together at the kitchen table. She ate with more appetite than she had shown in months.
“Grandma,” she said, chewing, “do you think my hair will be pretty again?”
« Of course, honey. It will grow back more beautiful than before, and you can help me comb it every day when it grows back, if you like. »
Monika smiled for the first time that afternoon. A small, shy, but sincere smile.
After dinner, I gave her a warm bath and put one of my T-shirts on as pajamas. As I dried her off, I noticed she had small cuts on her scalp where the razor had been too aggressive.
“Does it hurt, honey?” I asked gently, touching one of the incisions.
“A little, but I don’t cry anymore because my mom says girls who cry are ugly.”
I had to go to the bathroom to cry alone. I couldn’t let Monika see me break down. She needed to see strength in me, not more pain.
When I returned, I saw her looking at herself in the mirror on my dressing table.
“Grandma, am I really ugly?”
I knelt down next to her and we looked at each other in the mirror.
« Monika, do you know what’s most beautiful about you? »
She shook her head.
« Your heart, your smile, the way you hug me, the way you take care of your dolls. That’s what makes you beautiful, not your hair. »
“But mom says girls without nice hair are ugly.”
« Mommy, honey, you’re wrong. There are many beautiful women who have short hair or no hair at all. » I showed her pictures on my phone of famous actresses with very short hair.
Her little eyes lit up slightly. “Are they pretty too?”
“Very beautiful, you too.”
That night, Monika slept in my bed with me. She snuggled into my chest like a frightened kitten. Every time she stirred in her sleep, she mumbled, « No, Mommy, please, » or « I’m sorry. I’m sorry. » Even in her sleep, my granddaughter kept apologizing.
It was the longest night of my life. I lay awake listening to her nightmares, silently stroking her shaved head, and promising her I would never let anyone hurt her again.
At 3:00 a.m. my phone vibrated with a message from Michael.
« Mom is very upset. She says if you don’t bring Monica tomorrow morning, she’ll do something drastic. Please don’t make things worse. »
I read the message and felt a chill. What kind of woman threatens to do something drastic to a six-year-old girl? What kind of mother uses her own daughter as a tool for blackmail?
At that moment, I knew this was far more serious than I had imagined. Paula wasn’t just a stern and impatient woman. She was truly dangerous. And my granddaughter had been living with this person for two years.
I woke up at 6:00 a.m., and Monika was still clutching me. She had three different nightmares that night. And each time she woke up crying, I comforted her until she fell back asleep. Her little hands clung to my nightgown, as if afraid someone would take her away.
My phone had 17 missed calls from Michael and five increasingly desperate text messages. The last one, sent at 5:00 a.m., read: « Mom, Paula hasn’t slept all night. She’s pacing around the house like a madwoman. Please bring Monika back. I’m begging you. »
I carefully got up so as not to wake my granddaughter and went to the kitchen to make some coffee. I needed to think clearly about what to do next. While I was making the coffee, the phone rang again. This time, it was Brenda.
“Emily, how is the girl?” she asked me in a concerned voice.
“Better, but it’s a slow process.”
« Brenda, she had terrible nightmares last night. She was screaming and apologizing in her sleep. »
“Oh my God, it’s so much worse than we thought.”
« Worse how? »
Brenda sighed deeply.
« After you left yesterday, I stayed and talked to my cousins. It turns out that a month ago, Monica told our cousin Veronica that her mother punished her by cutting her hair whenever she misbehaved. »
I felt as if someone had hit me with a hammer.
“Co?”
Weronika thought she was exaggerating, but now it all makes sense. Paula has been punishing Monika with her hair for months, and no one has said anything to her.
My voice rose dangerously.
« Weronika thought they were just kids. You know how they are. But yesterday, when she saw Monika completely shaved, she realized the girl was telling the truth. »
I hung up the phone, my hands shaking with rage. It wasn’t just about yesterday’s cut. Paula had been mentally torturing my granddaughter for months, using her hair as punishment.
I returned to the bedroom and found Monica awake, sitting on the bed and hugging one of my pillows.
« Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well? »
She shook her head.
“I dreamed that my mom was cutting my eyelashes, just like she told me to.”
I sat down next to her and hugged her tightly.
« That will never happen. Do you hear me? No one will hurt you as long as I’m here. »
“But I’ll have to go back to Mommy.”
This question broke my heart because I didn’t have a clear answer. Legally, Paula was her mother, and I didn’t have custody.
“I’m trying to fix everything so you can be safe,” I said with as much sincerity as I could muster.
I made Monica her favorite breakfast—pancakes with syrup and strawberries. During the meal, she told me more details about her experience.
“Grandma, do you remember two months ago when I came to your house with slightly shorter hair?”
« Yes, I remember. »
« My mom cut it off because I spilled juice on the table. She told me that careless girls don’t deserve pretty hair. »
Every word was like a dagger in my heart.
“What did your dad say when it happened?”
« Dad was almost never home. And when he was, Mom acted differently. »
Of course, Paula hid her true personality around Michael. She was a master manipulator.
At 9:00 a.m., the doorbell rang insistently. I went to the window and saw Michael’s car parked in front of the house. He was parked outside my door, and Paula was next to him. She looked disheveled, as if she hadn’t slept all night.
“Monika, go to my room and close the door,” I told my granddaughter. “Don’t come out until I tell you.”
I opened the door, but I didn’t invite them in.
« What do you want? »
« We’ve come for our daughter, » Paula said hoarsely. Her eyes were red and puffy, but not from sadness. They were pure rage.
“Your daughter is fine where she is.”
“Emily, please.” Michael tried to use a conciliatory tone. “We understand you’re upset, but this has gone too far.”
“Too far?” I repeated in disbelief. “They went too far shaving a six-year-old girl’s head.”
Paula exploded. « I’ve had enough of this drama. It’s just hair. He’ll forget about it in a week. »
“Will she forget?” My voice became dangerously calm.
« Paula, did you know Monica had nightmares last night? Did you know she woke up screaming and apologizing? »
« Children have nightmares all the time. »
“Did you know she asked me if she could stay with me forever because she was afraid to go back with you?”
For the first time I saw a shadow of doubt on Michael’s face.
« Did she really say that? Is your daughter really afraid of you? »
I told Paula straight.
“That’s a lie!” Paula shouted. “You’re manipulating her against me.”
« I don’t need to manipulate her. Your behavior speaks for itself. »
Just then, Jonathan appeared in his yard. Seeing our argument, he approached the fence separating our houses.
“Are you okay, Emily?” he asked in a caring tone.
« Everything is perfect, Jonathan. I’m just protecting my granddaughter. »
Paula turned furiously to Jonathan.
“Mind your own business.”
“When I see a child being mistreated, that’s my business,” Jonathan replied firmly.
“Nobody’s hurting anybody,” Paula shouted. But her voice sounded hysterical.
« Ma’am, » Jonathan said in a calm but firm voice. « Yesterday, I saw this child with a completely shaved head, trembling with fear. This is not normal. »
Michael finally spoke.
“Jonathan, I understand your concerns, but this is our family.”
“And that’s exactly why you should be more concerned,” Jonathan replied. “I have three grandchildren, and I’ve never seen any of them as scared as that child was yesterday.”
Paula was completely losing control.
« You’re all crazy. It’s just a hairstyle. In other countries, they shave kids all the time. »
“In other countries?” I asked. “Paula, which countries are you talking about?”
« Military prisons. »
“Enough,” Michael finally blurted out. “Mom, you have to give Monika back immediately. She’s my daughter. End of story.”
“Your daughter?” My voice sharpened. “Since when do you act like she was your daughter? Where were you when they shaved her? Where were you when they called her ugly?”
Michael fell silent, but Paula took this opportunity and attacked.
« Emily, you’re driving this child crazy with your ideas. You’re creating problems where there aren’t any. »
“Problems where there aren’t any?” I laughed bitterly. “Paula, your daughter asked me yesterday if she was ugly. A six-year-old girl shouldn’t even know that word applies to her.”
“Children say a lot of stupid things.”
“Nonsense?” Jonathan joined the conversation again.
« Lady, yesterday I heard this little girl telling her grandmother that you threatened to cut off her eyelashes, and she kept crying. Is that also nonsense? »
Paula paled. She hadn’t expected there to be witnesses to this confession.
« I didn’t say that exactly. »
“What exactly did you say?” I asked her.
Paula stuttered for the first time since I met her.
“I just tried to calm her down by threatening her.”
Michael finally reacted.
“Paula, did you really tell Monica that?”
“It was a joke!” Paula cried desperately. “The whole situation was a joke. This family doesn’t understand humor.”
“A joke?” Jonathan shook his head.
« Ma’am, shaving a child and threatening him is not a joke. It’s cruel. »
Just then I heard Monica crying from my room. She heard the screams and got scared.
“Look what you’ve done,” I told them contemptuously. “You scared that child again.”
I entered the house and closed the door. I went straight to my room and found Monika hiding under the covers.
“Will Mom take me?” she asked in a trembling voice.
“No, honey, you won’t go anywhere you don’t feel safe.”
“But she will punish me later.”
Those words broke my soul. My granddaughter knew she would eventually have to pay for causing trouble.
« Monika, listen to me very carefully. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault, and I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. Do you promise me? »
« I promise you. »
Outside, the shouting continued. Michael and Paula were now arguing among themselves, probably because Michael had finally realized the seriousness of the problem.
I picked up the phone and looked up my lawyer’s number. It was time to take legal action. The situation had gone too far, and I wasn’t about to let my granddaughter return to an environment where she was emotionally abused.
“Monica,” I said to my granddaughter as I dialed the number. “We’ll fix this. I promise.”
My lawyer, Elias Mason, arrived two hours after my call. He was a 60-year-old man, a family man, and a grandfather, just like me. When I explained the situation to him over the phone, his response was immediate.
« Emily, what you’re describing is child abuse. I’m on my way there now. »
While I waited for the lawyer, Michael and Paula rang my doorbell every 15 minutes. I completely ignored them. Every time the doorbell rang, Monica clung to my body, trembling.
“Grandma, they will force me to do this,” she asked me over and over.
“I’m doing everything in my power to keep that from happening, honey.”
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