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This is a crime thriller about the little abused lisa. She was thirteen. She gave birth alone. Three days later, she was gone. Lisa tried to speak through her silence, her flinches, her fear but no one listened. By the time she named her abuser, it was too late. Girls Like Lisa is a true account of how systems fail the most vulnerable. It tells the story of one girl’s death and the ripples that followed: a cover-up, a second victim, and a legal battle that exposed decades of silence.
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Seitenzahl: 68
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025
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Olivia Green
Girls Like Lisa
She spoke and no one listened
First published by May Publications 2025
Copyright © 2025 by Olivia Green
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
Olivia Green asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
First edition
ISBN: 978-3-384-63633-1
This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy Find out more at reedsy.com
For every girl who was told,
“Keep quiet.”
For every mother who didn’t know what to say.
For every silence that cost a life.
And for Lisa—
You were never invisible.
We see you now.
We will not
forget.
“The world is not destroyed by those who do evil, but by those who watch them without doing anything.”
— Albert Einstein
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
The Night She Screamed
Chapter 2
No Midwife, No Mercy
Chapter 3
Oakland Foundation
Chapter 4
Three Days……..,
Chapter 5
Whispers in a Hospital Room
Chapter 6
The Social Worker
Chapter 7
Her Last Words
Chapter 8
A Death Too Quiet
Chapter 9
What the Family Said
Chapter 10
Missing Reports, Missing Justice
Chapter 11
The Second Name
Chapter 12
Buried Twice
Chapter 13
Testimony in Shadows
Chapter 14
The Case That Was Never Opened
Epilogue
Prologue
chapter-seperatorWHAT LISA KNEW
They said Lisa was too young to understand.But Vivian knew better.She had seen it in her daughter’s eyes , the kind of silence that doesn’t belong to a child. Not shy, not scared, just hollow and alert.
Lisa had changed the summer before. She stopped laughing. Stopped asking to go outside. She flinched when the front door opened.Vivian noticed. But she didn’t ask.
They said Lisa never told anyone.That wasn’t true either.
She had spoken not in full sentences, but in the way she avoided his name, the way her body stiffened when church was mentioned, the way she watched exits more than people.
Vivian called it attitude. Maybe adolescence.
Because asking meant knowing and knowing meant acting.Vivian hadn’t done either.
Lisa bled out on a plastic sheet in the front room.
She didn’t cry when the baby came.She didn’t scream when they cut the cord.
She just stared past them, past the ceiling and said a name.
Vivian recognized it.It wasn’t new. It had been in the house for years.She didn’t ask Lisa to repeat it.She didn’t write it down. Rather, she went to boil towels.
There was no headline…No arrest…No justice.
There was just silence , a baby and the sound of someone realizing too late what they had already known.
Because the worst part wasn’t that no one heard Lisa.It was that they did and still did nothing.
Chapter 1
chapter-seperatorThe Night She Screamed
Vivian didn’t realize Lisa was in labor until she saw the blood on the floor.
It was dark red, almost black in the shadows. The floorboard beneath her daughter’s narrow hips had gone from dusty to slick. It glistened under the flickering bulb overhead like oil.
It took Vivian a second to register it wasn’t just blood. It was too much, too fast.
Not a girl’s first period.Not even the heavy kind Vivian used to have when she was fifteen, back when the cramps left her breathless in a tobacco field and she’d walk home with blood up the back of her legs.
No…this was different. This was wrong.
She stepped closer. Lisa’s bare knees were curled up tight under her nightgown, her fingers clawing at the mattress. Her lips were parted but silent.
Vivian froze.Not because she didn’t know what was happening.But because she did.
“She’s too small for this,” Carla said, from the doorway.
Vivian didn’t answer. She didn’t look up. She didn’t want to see the same fear mirrored on her sister’s face.
Carla had always been the one to speak the truth without mercy.
“Her body ain’t ready,” she said again. “Her bones ain’t even set right yet.”
Reaching for the folded towel at the foot of the bed, Vivian knelt next to her daughter. Her fingers moved instinctively as if they had been honed in a long-forgotten conflict. She pressed the towel between Lisa’s thighs.
Lisa moaned.
Her whole body shook as another contraction hit, sharp and primal.The noise she made wasn’t human. It was low, throaty, and wet.
“She’s crowning,” Vivian said tightly. “It’s too late for hospitals now.”
Carla hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“I said it’s too late.”
Vivian turned toward the door and snapped, “Boil some water. And bring more towels.”
Carla moved, but slowly. Like her feet were heavy with judgment.
Vivian didn’t watch her go. She stayed kneeling next to Lisa, whose breaths were now shallow and ragged, her arms twitching involuntarily. The child was burning up; skin hot, eyes glossy. Her little girl was breaking open.
Vivian pressed a damp cloth to Lisa’s forehead and whispered, “Breathe. That’s it. We’re almost there.”
Lisa didn’t answer. She hadn’t said a word in hours.
Her eyes fluttered open once then closed again, like she was somewhere far away.
It had been nine months since Lisa started changing.
At first, it was subtle: shorter answers, more silence, more time in her room. She stopped asking for sleepovers. Stopped playing music. She didn’t laugh at the shows they used to watch together.
Vivian had noticed; of course, she had. But she told herself Lisa was just growing up. Girls get moody. Girls get quiet.
Vivian had been a quiet girl, too. And no one had come looking for her when she stopped talking.
The belly had come on fast.
Vivian remembered the exact moment she let herself see it. One Sunday morning. Lisa was reaching for a bowl in the cupboard, and her shirt lifted just enough.
It wasn’t bloating.
Vivian’s stomach had dropped like a stone.
She said nothing.
Not that day. Not the next. Not the one after that.
And then one morning, she asked Lisa if she’d gotten “in trouble.” Lisa shook her head.
That was the only time they talked about it.
Vivian didn’t ask who the father was. She didn’t ask if Lisa had been forced. She didn’t ask anything.
Because asking meant action. And action meant consequences for Lisa, for the baby, and for whoever was responsible.
Vivian wasn’t ready for any of that.
So she boiled it down to silence like she boiled everything else.Silence was safe. Silence was survival
Carla returned to the room with a stack of towels and a pot of steaming water. Without a word, she put them down and knelt next to her sister.
“Do you want me to…?” she asked, reaching toward Lisa’s legs.
“No. I’ve got it.”
Carla sat back, arms crossed. “We need to call someone, Viv. She’s not gonna make it if…”
“No one’s calling nothing.”
“She’s bleeding too much.”
“I know that.”
Lisa let out a soft cry, barely louder than a breath.
Vivian looked down , the head was crowning. She could see dark, matted hair, slick with blood and fluid. It didn’t look like a baby. It looked like something foreign. Something unnatural.
Her breath caught in her throat.
“All right,” she muttered.
“You’ve got this. Just one more push, baby. Come on.”
Lisa’s body arched weakly. She pushed. There was another tearing sound — wet and horrible — and then the baby slid out into Vivian’s hands.
He didn’t cry.
Vivian stared at him. Tiny. Blueish. Eyes closed.
She turned him gently, cleared his nose and mouth with a towel, and rubbed his back. A whimper. Then a small, sharp cry.
Relief crashed over her like a wave.
Carla watched in silence as Vivian cut the cord with a paring knife and tied it off with a shoelace. They had nothing sterile. No clamps. No plan.
