The Ninth Circle

A little girl died this weekend. She was going to school in another town, but she had been attending our school for several years previously. The compassionate, good-hearted people at my school had seen an ugly situation brewing and taken steps to have her removed from her home and placed in foster care. But the system didn't work for her. They put her back with her family. And, so they could escape the people who were trying to help her, they moved to another town, another school.

She was a quiet, shy, sweet little girl with blond hair and glasses. I never saw the bruises. I never knew. There will be an autopsy and an investigation. But they are pretty sure her dad killed her.

There was another child killed recently. A little, two-year old was left in the snow by a dad who was supposed to take care of her. My heart broke in two when I read that there were tiny footprints in the snow which showed she had walked around before she died. That was bad.

But, in a way, this is worse because I knew this child. She had been in my library. She had listened to the stories I read. I KNEW her.

In Dante's Inferno, there were nine circles of hell, each circle getting progressively worse until the ninth circle was reached. This is where those people who hurt children should be bound and hurt, again and again and again.

She was only ten years old.