My first and only diaper story. Feedback is always appreciated.
The sun had only just begun rising over the open ocean as a bright yellow Pontiac Grand Prix came racing through the winding shores of the South Carolina coast line. The car glimmered bright in the morning sunlight like a shooting star making its way through the night sky. Raquel Hernandez sat in the back of the car, safely secured in her car seat. The young girl was exhausted from what seemed like countless hours of driving. She had never been one to fall asleep during long car rides, especially in times of great anxiety such as this¬—Raquel and her father were in a strange place, far away from their home in Puerto Rico
The car finally came to a screeching halt outside of an old, rundown motel that sat on the outskirts of town. Although it was hidden from her sight, Raquel could still hear the sound of her father loading a handgun in the front seat. It was a sound that she knew all too well and it was easily enough to send a wave of chills surging across her body. Even at the young, naive age of seven, she knew the reason they were here. She knew that her father held a grudge and would go to any lengths to get revenge on the men who killed her mother.
“Papi, por favor no te vayas!” Raquel yelled in Spanish in a final attempt to change her fathers mind. All she wanted was to leave this place—to forget about the men in that room and to go back home.
Reluctantly, he turned around to look into his daughters emerald green eyes, “Lo siento, tengo que mija.”
Knowing there was nothing she could do or say to change his mind, she simply sighed and shook her head.
Her father leaned into the backseat of the car and kissed her on the forehead, “Vuelvo en seguida, te prometo”.
Raquel could do nothing but watch as he turned away, intently walking towards the motel room. The poor girl could feel her whole body shaking—she was more terrified in this moment than she had been in her entire life. Only a week ago, she had lost her mother. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing her father too—he was the only family she had left in the entire world.
As her father moved closer to the motel room, he discovered that the door was already open a crack. Suspicious, he drew his weapon and slowly let himself inside. Only a short moment of silence passed until Raquel was startled by the sounds of sirens closing in all around her. Multiple American police officers were surrounding the building and pointing their guns directly at the room that her father was inside of, “Police! Come out slowly with your hands your hands where we can see them!” they demanded.
The door of the motel room opened again and her father stepped out with his hands held high above his head. Raquel now had a direct line of sight into the room, which revealed two dead bodies lying across the bed.
As the police patted down her father, he began protesting— in English this time—that he was innocent, but they weren’t listening. Raquel watched as they slammed him face down on the front of his own car and proceeded to handcuff him violently.
She started to cry, unable to move, unable to believe this was happening.
Raquel’s eyes shot open; her pulse was racing as she awoke from a deep sleep, realizing that it was all just a dream. She propped herself up in her bed, breathing hard and covered in sweat.
A bad dream, she told herself.
But she couldn’t pretend it was only a dream—it was a memory. It had actually happened. Eight years ago, her father had hauled away in front of her and she never saw him again.
As her mind slowly shifted back to reality, she turned to look at the alarm clock on her nightstand and realized that it was only 6:00 AM. Not that it mattered—there was no way she could go back to sleep after such a vivid dream. She didn’t even need to feel the front of her diaper to tell that it had been recently wet, as it was still warm and clinging tight to her skin. The teenage girl sighed, swung her legs over the side of the bed and let her eyes adjust to the morning sunlight that came piercing through her half-open curtains to illuminate her bedroom.
Over the years, she had gotten used to the feeling of waking up wet, but that never stopped her from feeling disappointed in herself. It didn’t help that every doctor she’d ever been to over the years had told that her she was completely healthy and that her bedwetting was most likely psychological, not uncommon with foster kids who had lost their parents. That didn’t make her feel better—it would have been so much easier to believe that it was a medical problem completely out of her control.
Her train of thought was interrupted by a soft knock on her bedroom door. “Raquel, are you up yet honey?” came the voice of her foster mother, Jennifer.
That’s right! She remembered. Today was the first day of her sophomore year of high school. More importantly, it was the day of cheerleading try-outs. “Uh-huh, I’ll be right out!” Raquel hollered sharply, feeling herself spring back to life.
She grabbed her bathroom and made her way to the bathroom at the end of the hall. There, she disposed of her very wet diaper.
Raquel stepped into the shower, still drowsy but eager to freshen up. The hot water ran down her back and washed away the sweat from her medium length, dark brown hair, but it could not wash away her memories as easily. Nothing could wash away that traumatic experience that had robbed her of her childhood and forced her to grow up so quickly. Nothing could wash away years of moving between foster homes—places where she was neither loved nor wanted.
All she could do was focus her thoughts on the busy day she had ahead of her. While her hair was still drying, she decided to put a little bit of make-up on. She didn’t typically wear a lot—if any—unlike most girls in high school she felt fairly comfortable just as she was. But of course there were exceptions like today. In addition to trying out for the cheerleading squad, she wanted to look her absolute best for her crush, who she hadn’t seen in-person for over a month.
She went over to her closet to get dressed and picked out a knee-length burgundy plaid skirt, followed by her favorite white cardigan. Last but not least, she opened the top drawer of her dresser to reveal a package of absorbent store brand diapers that she wore at night, and a package of much more discreet Goodnites that she wore during the day. Raquel grabbed one of the Goodnites and pulled it up under her skirt. Her daytime accidents were far less frequent then her night accidents, so she always reminded herself that wearing protection to school was more of a precaution than a necessity.
Once she was finished getting dressed, she took one last look at herself in the mirror. At 5’2", she was fairly short, but also in good shape because she spent a good portion of her time dancing. Raquel’s birth mother had been a dance instructor and naturally began teaching her daughter at a young age back in her hometown of San Juan, Puerto Rico. Raquel still practiced regularly on her own at a local dance studio in her new home in here in South Carolina.
Finally satisfied that she was ready, Raquel went downstairs, kissed her foster mother goodbye, and headed out the door to walk to school. She was both excited and nervous for the day ahead of her…