Lies

Chapter 61

Lies

How many times can people lie to you and make it sound like the truth? This was a hard lesson for anyone to learn, especially me and the Rothwell’s. I trusted Mom and Dad to protect me from my parents, I trusted them to love me like one of their own in spite of my imperfections. I should have known better than this was just false hope and saw the lies for what they were.

It wasn’t in the big things that made me doubt their love for me. It was the small things that added up over time. It started with an apology from my parents, not in person but through my caseworker at first. Giving Mom and Dad a  handwritten letter written by my mother. Apologizing for what they had tried to do to me and to them when they came to our house and assaulted us.

They apologized for every deed they had done to me and my brother Aaron. Asking me and the Rothwell’s to forgive them, begging for one more chance to make it right. None of us were buying it considering how many times they have done this very thing. Dad ripped up the first letter and the seconded letter after the tenth letter they began to waver before ripping that one up too.

My mother kept writing and each letter kept chipping away at the faith they had in regards that perhaps they were truly sorry. I would argue and warn them that it was just another lie, but Mom and Dad were starting to believe in their sincerity; wondering if perhaps they were indeed sorry and were turning over a new leaf.  I knew my parents better than anyone.

Too me it was just another trick and it was that trick that had placed me in 19 foster homes since the age of 5. It was that trick that had fooled Family Court, Social Services and the DDS and several doctors and psychologist stating they had changed. It was the same lie that they used to sell me to drug addicts to keep me from going with the Steeds. It was that same trick that had made it impossible to live with Downing’s and ended up here instead. For in my reality it was all one big lie.

Mom and Dad wavered at first when my caseworker started to chip away at the lie and make it sound a lot like the truth. It began with a couple of hours spending time with my parents over a simple ice cream sundae with Mom, Dad, and my new caseworker. That’s when I knew I was in big trouble. I didn’t need Jeff to tell me, even though he hadn’t visited me in a very long time. Don’t get me wrong I hated, loved and feared the Rothwell’s, and I would trade anything or even sold my very soul to the devil to have been with Downing’s. I would have even chosen to live with the Rothwell’s rather than spend a single minute under my parent’s roof.

Like most lies, it begins small and given it enough time it grows. In some ways, I had a good life, not a perfect life, but a good enough one to make want to stay and close my eyes whenever the monsters came out. The Rothwell’s will never be the Downing’s or the Steeds, but here I had a chance to be happy and loved.

I can say with certainty that not once had my parents ever shown me, love. All they have shown me was anger, cruelty and physical and mental abuse. Love was a foreign thing that does not exist when under my parent’s roof. It was love I had found in the Rothwell’s home and was willing to be satisfied if it meant never ever going back to live with my parents, but fate had always been cruel when concerns me.

After the third ice cream sundae social, my parents were given a schedule of every sport I played in. At first, they were shocked learning that I was actually enrolled in sports considering all they knew have I hated sports with a passion. My caseworker and the DDS and their psychologist suggested they should attend every game, every swim meet, every musical performance, and piano recital that I was in. That it would state they were making an effort to get involved with my life.

My parents decline the offer saying it was a long way to travel from Santaquin to American Fork so often; trying to back out or limit their time, considering how busy the Rothwell’s kept me. Dad laughed stating clearly that he and Mom have been to every one of my events and they are just as busy. Yet they find time to be there for me and all their kid’s events.

My parents were shocked to learn I had time for household chores and a part-time summer job, and still had plenty of time to compete and had earned several awards over the last two years. Not only that I had earned my Eagle which Mom and Dad displayed the pin proudly rubbing in that they had refused to even be there for that moment. Mom and Dad knew we were getting nowhere and began to leave. When my mother halted them at the door stating she and my father were willing to try.  Dad nodded and we regained our seats and were trying to come to a compromises. That in return I would be allowed home visits in the near future.

Mom and Dad declined said not a chance in hell would they allow me to be left alone with them; that they should be lucky enough to spend any time at all with me with them or my caseworker present. My father growled and slammed his fist down hard on the table, causing everything to shake and fall onto the floor. I watched in horror as my father stood tipping over his chair, quickly backhand me across the face; forgetting anyone else was in the room. I feared my father, but I feared the monster inside Dad more and did my best to stay calm feeling the sting. His words sounded underwater stating I was nothing more than a spoiled child that had been living in a life of luxury too long and was about to do it again when Dad caught his hand before it could strike me again.

Mom didn’t waste time after that telling my parents that this meeting was over quickly grabbed me and put behind her to protect me. Dad shoved my father back hard enough that he tripped over his fallen chair. My caseworker was in total shock and sat frozen in her seat. I stood my ground as if I was back in that field. I looked at my father and my mother squarely in the eye, slipping off my shoes quickly getting into a fighting stance. No one existed in my mind except me and my parents.

 I stood there in my bare feet ready for them to make the next move. My father stood pushing the chair away and in one fluid motion he removed his belt. My caseworker screamed when my father lunged for me watching me somersault over him landing on the balls of my feet as my father slid into the wall where I had been standing.

The small ice cream shop was in a total panic, watching people running for the doors. I could hear sirens in the distance. While I waited for my father to make the next move, but he sat there sprawled on the floor where his head dented the wall. It was my mother that made the first move, not aggressively. While I turned swiftly to face her as she distanced herself from me edging closer to my father. I could see absolute fear when I looked into her eyes, but neither did I relax watching and waiting for her to make a move towards me.

Mom and Dad quickly came to my side asking me if I was alright. I nodded that I was watching the police come in through the doors. The workers behind the counter describing what had taken place. I walked outside and sat in the car, watching Mom pick up my shoes while Dad and my caseworker gave their statements. It happened so fast. One minute we were all sitting at the table having ice cream and the next I was defending myself. I screamed real loud to release the pent up energy causing everyone to turn and look at me.

Mom and Dad were there in two seconds thinking I was about to have an episode. Dad quickly held me against him telling me to take deep breaths feeling my body shake against him, then suddenly I went completely limp fell to the ground. I barely felt the pin poke or him lifting me into the backseat of the car. For when I woke I was home resting comfortably in my bed in Dads' arms brushing my hair. I could feel his wet tears falling on my bare shoulders. Mom was holding my hand waiting for me to wake up.

I had learned that Mom and Dad tranquilized me just in case I was having a storm class episode. I didn’t bother to correct them that I only screamed to release all that pent up energy that was building inside me. In some ways, it was a good thing they did. It made it so I wouldn’t have to answer questions that would soon lead to other questions. My caseworker quit that same day. Personally, I didn’t blame her when dealing with my parents.

My father was charged for disturbing the peace and destruction of private property. He should have been charged for child abuse, but once again the laws of the courts favored the parents, not the child; letting him off with a warning and having him pay for the damages.

It was nearly a month later when my mother started writing again, and according to my new caseworker number 9, she had been writing to Family Courts and Social Services to reinstate home visits, plus apologizing for my father’s actions. Personally, I would prefer for both of them throw themselves off a cliff or some drunken driver killed them. Either way, it would have made my life hell of a lot simpler, but fate it is just plain cruel.

In the months to come, the Family Courts and Social Service would soon answer my mother’s payers. Not that I had enough to do as it was, with all my sports reaching the finals and school starting in a month or so. I really, really was looking forward to being in the 10th grade without hiccups. Like my parents getting in the way, but my new caseworker was as stupid as they come. It didn’t matter what had taken place at the ice cream parlor a few months back; considering I wasn’t injured according to them and the police, slapping your child across the face or removing their belt to spank the said child didn’t count as abusive behavior.

My caseworker had already made arrangements for me to spend the entire weekend with my parents. Mom and Dad quickly declined the offer several times, yet again the laws that govern us into regards to the rights of the parents and the rights of the child fall short. Mom and Dad pulled out the “you’re grounded card,” quickly. Said I had done something bad that required severe punishment; considering the State and Social Services award home visits for good behavior, not bad and unruly children. My mother was furious when she found out that I had been grounded which meant no home visit stating I had done it on purpose. She just didn’t know how true that was. In fact, we did it several times until they caught on, and by then school had started.

The home visit was canceled with the Doctors help and my psychologists in case of an episode or storm. There was no way my parents could handle a storm class episode over and over which in their case would make it three times worst being anywhere near them. Mom and Dad had my psychologist and my Doctors write long letters diagnosis that my PTSD night terrors, would prevent in further home visits, even more so during stormy weather and using my drug state against me by trying to harm me or kill me. And once again my mother was furious.