I volunteer at a dead child hotline

I volunteer at a dead child hotline. I'm not allowed to tell you the phone number or the name of the line. I'm just allowed to tell you my stories. I have no idea how it works, or why these calls get through to us. All I know is that when a child dies and they try to call out for help or family, sometimes those calls get sent to us. Sometimes.<br><br><br>I've been doing this for a few months. We're given training on what to expect, but nothing can prepare you for listening to a child beg for help, and knowing that you can't do anything to help them. Usually, the calls go like this: We pick up, the child tells us where they are and we send help. Sometimes, the calls don't go like that. Sometimes, the children don't make sense. Sometimes they don't want help. Sometimes, the calls don't make any sense at all.<br><br>I've gotten used to the other kinds of calls. The ones where children describe their injuries and ask for an ambulance. I can hear their parents screaming in the background. I can hear the screech of tires, the crunch of metal and breaking glass. The angry bellow of an animal. I'm used to hearing children crying and asking where their daddy is, why they can't see. Asking why their head hurts so badly. I'm used to hearing the rustle of leaves during those calls, the sound of running water. I'm even used to the calls where children aren't injured at all. The ones where they get confused and can't find their parents. Those are the calls that are easiest, because I know the kids are safe. <br><br>I'm not allowed to ask questions during the calls. We're just there to locate the children and send help. But I want to ask questions during those calls. I want to ask *why* so many kids are calling us. I want to know *why* kids are getting beat up and shot and dragged behind cars. I want to know *why* little girls are suddenly attacked in the park, why little boys are being shot in the chest during robberies. I want to know why this is my life now.<br><br><br>I know it's not like it used to be. Things are worse out there. They're worse in here too, and I'm not just talking about the calls.<br><br><br>I wasn't allowed to document my first few calls. I had to get permission, and they made me sign a bunch of papers before they told me I could do it. Before they told me I *had* to do it. I'm not supposed to talk about the calls with the public, but I *am* supposed to write them down. I don't know who they're for. I can only assume that it's for records, so we can see if the same kids call multiple times or if there are any patterns.<br><br><br>I'm also supposed to put any... unusual calls in a separate file. I didn't think about it much when they first told me to do it, I just figured it would be for the kids who weren't injured, or the calls where the kids weren't really in need of help. But the more calls I get like that, the more types of "unusual calls" I start to notice.<br><br>***<br><br>**CALL LOG NO. 42**<br><br>**CALL TYPE: ACCIDENT**<br><br>**INJURIES: HEAD INJURY**<br><br>I picked up the phone, giving the traditional opening:<br><br>"Hello. What is your name and where are you? Are you in need of help?"<br><br>"Y- I... my name is Jenny. I need help."<br><br>"Okay Jenny, I'm here to help you. Can you tell me where you are?"<br><br>"I... I was riding my bike. I wasn't wearing a helmet like I was supposed to. Mommy was calling for dinner, I didn't think it was that far. I know I've ridden it before. I didn't think I was that far from home, but I rode really fast and... and..." <br><br>She started to sob.<br><br>"And I didn't see the light. I didn't see the car, I didn't-"<br><br>"It's okay Jenny," I said, trying to keep my voice soft. "I'm here now, okay? I'm going to get you some help. Can you tell me where you are?"<br><br>"There's a big building up ahead of me. It's all square and the sign says... says Colonial... something. I can hear the ambulance coming, but I don't... I don't want it. My mommy always plays this game with me where she goes 'dead'. She's just playing. But I don't think this is a game. I think I might be actually... actually dead."<br><br>"Okay Jenny, I'm going to get you some help. You're not dead, okay?"<br><br>"I... I don't like this game. I don't want to play anymore."<br><br>"I know, sweetie. I'm going to get you some help. Can you read me the rest of the sign?"<br><br>"I... I can't see it all. I can't move."<br><br>"Okay Jenny, I know you can't see it all. But can you move your head just a little? I need you to read me the rest of the sign."<br><br>"I can move my head but I can't move my legs. They... they hurt."<br><br>"I know Jenny, I'm sorry. Please read me the sign."<br><br>"I can't see it all. It says... 'Colonial... Sur...'. And there's a... a big number underneath. A big green number."<br><br>"Okay Jenny, what is it?"<br><br>"It says... 'one... four... three... eight?' I think that's right."<br><br>I enter the address into the computer in front of me. After a moment, a map comes up, and I can see where the address is. I write down the coordinates and put them into the system. A few minutes later, a computerized voice lets me know that an ambulance has been sent out and that help is on the way.<br><br>"Okay Jenny, help is on the way. Do you see the ambulance?"<br><br>"I... I see the lights."<br><br>"Okay. I need you to lie still until the ambulance gets there. Okay?"<br><br>"I... I'm scared."<br><br>"I know, Jenny. I'm sorry. Lie very still. If your mom or dad are anywhere near they'll see the lights and come over to you. Just stay on the line with me."<br><br>"Why... why can't I see them? I hear them calling me, but I can't see them."<br><br>"I don't know Jenny. But if you hear them calling, they're probably on their way over. Just lie still."<br><br>"I... I don't want to play this game anymore. I want to go home."<br><br>"I know Jenny. I want you to go home too. Just lie still, okay? I'm going to stay on the line with you."<br><br>"I... I don't want to play this game anymore."<br><br>"I know. Just hang in there okay?"<br><br>"I... I don't want to play this game anymore."<br><br>"I know Jenny."<br><br>"I... I don't want-"<br><br>"Jenny, are you there?"<br><br>"I... I don't want to play this game anymore."<br><br>"Jenny, is your mom or dad there?"<br><br>"I... I think they're playing the game. I hear them calling, but I don't think they can see me."<br><br>"Jenny, are you there?"<br><br>"I... I don't want to play this game anymore."<br><br>"Jenny, is your mom or dad there yet?"<br><br>"I... I hear the ambulance. I think I'm going to stop playing now."<br><br>"Jenny, are you there?"<br><br>"I... I don't want to play this game anymore. I don't want-"<br><br>The line was silent for a moment before the tone returned.<br><br>***<br><br>The supervisor got to me right away and took the recording from me. It was the first time I'd gotten a call like this, and I didn't know what to think. So I did what I was told, and I didn't ask any questions.<br><br><br>Until I started getting more calls like that.