Memoirs of a Lost Child

While wetting the bed was normal for the other five-years-olds, my experience almost cost me my life. I was sleeping soundly at about 2:00 am when my foster sister began shouting, "e;Momma, she wet the bed!"e; In seconds, my foster mother stormed downstairs only to yank me out the bed. She was screaming at me to take off the sheets and put them in a tub of water to wash. I was exhausted and terrified. All I knew was I had to do what she said no matter how frightened I was. I pushed the sheets into the water, again and again, still half-asleep. I felt a firm grip on the back of my head, and in seconds she was thrashing my head in and out of the water like I did the sheets only moments ago. I had barely enough time to get a breath in. All I could hear was the splash of water and my foster mother yelling the words, "e;You will never pee in the bed again!"e; I truly thought I was going to die then, but like any other five-year-old, I was told to go back to bed afterward.