His hold on me is just as strong...

Today was another hearing date.  The woman who failed to appear, who has failed to pay even a penny of the restitution, was arrested Monday night, arraigned on Tuesday morning, and ordered to appear in court today to explain why it is that she has not paid.

There was not much explaining.  Really, it was all about blame.  The attack was my fault.  I didn't control my dog (my 7 month-old puppy).  The pit bull was not attacking me.  My injuries were from my dog.  My injuries are not real.  I am lying.  She's seen me gallivanting about the neighborhood.  It wasn't her dog.  She has nothing to do with the dog.  On and on it went, mostly with repeated accusations flung my way.

I was not prepared for this.  I was not prepared, in the least, for when the city attorney called me forward to testify.  Upon hearing his first question: "Will you tell us about that night?" I started trembling.  I stumbled and bumbled my way through answering his questions.  With each thought about that night, I shook harder, terror welled up within me, nausea overwhelmed me, and I collapsed to the floor.  Really, I wanted to crawl beneath the nearest bench and stay there.  I forced myself up, finished speaking, and stumbled back to my seat.

The woman then began her piece and her accusations when on and on and on.  The city attorney did not stop her, did not tell her that it was not my fault, did not point out the folly of blaming a 7-month-old bichon poo puppy for an attack for a pit bull.  He did not read any of the affidavit testimony.  He did not point out that the moment I saw the pit bull running toward us, I picked up Amos and held him up to my shoulder.  He only allowed her to speak her piece.

The judge was silent, not even looking at anyone.

The city attorney filled the silence by asking the woman if she was sorry.
She said that the dog was not hers.
The city attorney asked again if the woman was sorry about what happened to me.
She said that she didn't know what to think.
The city attorney asked the woman a third time if she was sorry about what happened to me.
She said, "No, I do not.  It doesn't matter at all.  She doesn't matter at all."

I sat shaking and trembling and feeling just as terrified as when the pit bull dragged me to the ground, just as desperate was when I felt my grip on Amos slipping when the pit bull was trying to rip him out of my arms. The pain of his hold on my arm as he dragged me to the ground, tearing the muscle, is just as strong.

I pretend it is over.
I pretend that I am better.
I try to fake it until I can make it.

His hold on me is just as strong.
The terror.
The pain.
The hopelessness.
The overwhelming horror of looking up and knowing...knowing what was coming and that I was helpless to stop it.
His hold on me is just as strong.


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me.