"To Think Upon A Child That Has No Childish Days"

This is just a small part of my highly dysfunctional and violent childhood. To think that there are thousands of innocent little lives that must endure this hell on a daily basis! Quite a sickening thought.. "BREAK THE CHAIN!"

Warning: This story is rated Mature and may contain material unsuitable for those under age 18.

 

Only four, holding my mother’s hand, consoling her while she wept..

even at that age, I wondered how she could have married such a beast. Waiting for him to come home liquored up and raging.. Beating her unconscious on the stairs while I looked on, screaming, and pleading for him to stop. Throwing ashtrays at him, and telling him to go back to the bar and leave us alone.. He then turned on me and I felt the crack of his fist on my cheek as I flew across the room, just as the ashtray had, only a few moments before! That would not be the last time I felt his savagery! He was very sick in every sense of the word! I must not speak of it for it is too foul, and evil! I watched him beat her for cooking chicken too well done, setting the table in a way he was not accustomed, and turning the table over on top of everyone sitting there on more than one occasion, or simply because she would try to stop him from coming after me, telling me to run and lock my bedroom door! Sometimes she was not quick enough, having to wrench him off of me, taking in all of his fury while I sat on my bed, hands over my ears trying desperately to suffocate the explosions outside my door! Rocking and sobbing waiting for the madness to switch off! All too often, this would go on relentlessly. I was feeling so much at once that I thought I might implode as a light bulb does when it burns out!

I came home from school one Day {2^nd grade} only to find the police surrounding our home because he had taken my mother hostage at gunpoint due to suffering from DT'S. I really could not imagine this was my life, yet could not comprehend why other families did not live this way!?.. I would beg my mother for us to Leave but she only shook her head, and said “Your father is a good man when he is not drinking.” When exactly was that, I wondered!? I recall many nights awakening in the backseat of the family Studebaker after being dragged into whichever hole in the wall to drink himself into a petrifaction! He'd say, " Now daddy's little girl can go wait in the car, and I'll be out shortly." His shortly was expectedly farther ahead..

Growing up, I was only allowed to watch Hee-Haw and listen to country music. I loved Motown, and rock and roll but he broke every single record I had just to overpower, and access his control! Like contraband I was forbidden from listening to black musicians or watching black people on television. Once, he actually picked up the television and hurled it out the living room window because I was watching the Jackson Five on a Sonny and Cher Variety show.. My best friend was black that lived across the street, and he chased her out of the yard one day, screaming, "I don't allow my kids to play with n*****s!" Then proceeded to call me a n****r lover, and w***e in the front yard while all the neighbors watched the show! To this day, whenever I hear that racial slur - I actually cringe! He tried teaching this to my son at a young age but I was not going to allow my son to be subjected to the same mindless and sadistic rantings that I had to repress! I broke the chain!

He took my kitten that was given to me by a neighbor, which I name Juniper, and tossed him into the lake behind the mobile home we lived in just to see if it would swim or drown. He drowned as I stood there listening to it’s cries; not believing what I was perceiving or sensing. While he drank and laughed holding a flashlight to catch a glimpse so he could further delight in his madness! Life was unbearable but I kept going, in a robotic state, just waning through the motions.

When I was in Catholic School {six years} he left for about two weeks, leaving only milk, and bologna in the refrigerator. I remember the nuns coming to our home, and delivering food. Sister Mary Nicholas took me under her wing. She felt very safe, and trustworthy; something I was never familiar with. When my father would blow in drunk to pick me up from school, passed out in the parking lot, she would take me into the convent where I would watch Underdog, and they would all indulge me by allowing me to eat 3-4 fudge bars in one sitting! I think of her often and how she rescued me for those brief but undarkened times in my childhood! My parents were certainly not concerned with how all of their BULLSHIT was changing who I was every minute of every day! When I turned twelve my father finally moved out of the house and so I thought we would be free, and have some semblance of peace but narrowly did I know that my mother would soon recommence what my father had left behind, leaving the proverbial chain unbroken! To a sickening degree there still existed innumerable Hells to be endured~~~