The Idiot’s Guide To Everyday Life

Part of what makes me who I am
22.Sep.06, 17:53 pm
Filed under: Tidbits About My Life

Things I’ve never posted about: One of the worst nights of my life.

Jan 1, 1993

I was 15 years old, and had been sent home for a 2 week visit from the hell-hole they called a boarding school to see my parents for Christmas. It was actually a refreshing break for me, I hated that place. Problem was, home wasn’t much better when my step-thing was around. He was a long-haul truck driver and wasn’t home all the time, but when he was, I kept myself out of the same room as much as possible. Main reason: the grotesque old man liked to sit around naked in the living room with me in it and watch tv and play with himself all day long. He was disturbed in the worst way. He beat me bare-assed until I was 14 and got shipped off for not taking his shit anymore, if that tells you anything about how perverted he is.

Anywho…. this “lovely” day was the day before I was supposed to fly back to school and I was not looking forward to it. My mother had to work all day, so my step thing was doing his usual naked tv thing, and I was in their bedroom watching tv on the edge of their bed (leaving about a 6 inch gap between me and the tv because I could never get comfortable when I was alone in the house with that bastard). I was watching music videos on BET, oh such a sin I know.

Every so often, my step-thing would come into the doorway and prop himself up there like he was trying to pose for a pic or something and say, “Whatcha doin?” Like he was trying to bait me into a conversation or something. I’d keep my eyes straight ahead on the tv, and he’d just grin knowing he was making me so uncomfortable. After about 2 hours of his sporadic visits he didn’t leave the doorway as I expected him to, he came in there, squeezed his way through the 6 inch gap between the tv and myself, and plopped himself down on the bed behind me.

I need to backtrack a little in the story to explain what happened next. I wanted a pair of rollerblades for Xmas. I didn’t get them, but I did get $100 from family and friends in my gifts, and they had a pair on sale for $150 that I wanted. I asked my mom for the money, since I had no way of earning it, and she said she’d talk to my step-thing to see if there was something around the house I could do to earn it. They were building a fence or something soon so maybe I could help dig holes in the backyard, etc.

Well, on that fateful day, after he plopped himself down on the bed behind me and began fondling himself at leisure again, he looked up at me and said, “So….. How are you planning to EARN that fifty bucks?”

I almost puked. I got up, turned off the tv, and went to my bedroom, shut the door, and pushed my daybed against it. My mother came home about 3 hours later, and I didn’t stick my head out of the door until she was home. I knew better than to tell her what happened, she never believed me before when I told her what he was like, and accused me of lying to try to ruin “yet another of her relationships, because I couldn’t allow her to be happy”. Instead I set about the task of begging her not to send me back to that boarding school. I’d already been away for a year and a half at that point, and that was my first visit home. I missed my family and friends, I just wanted to come home. The reason they sent me there in the first place was that he wanted to get rid of me before she did believe what I said about him.

My mother came into my room after a silent dinner and began packing my belongings and putting them into my ginormous suitcase. I stood there in my bedroom doorway begging her not to send me back, begging her to talk to me about it first. Unbeknownst to me, my step-thing had walked up behind me in the doorway to my room and was listening to the conversation. He shoved me farther into my room and said, “Get in there and help your mother pack. You’re going back, we don’t want you here.” My mother sat in the floor, still packing, not saying a word.

I ignored him and still begged my mother not to send me away again. That school was hell on earth. I hated it there, and so did everyone else who was unfortunate enough to be sent there. My mother, in turn, ignored me. My step-thing finally said, “Deb, go call the school and tell them she’s trying to run away, and go get some ropes in the garage.”

If the school thought you’d tried to run away on your visit, they’d punish you worse when you got back, and my step-thing knew it. He was between me and the hallway, leading to any door that would let me outside, and I wasn’t even going towards him. My bedroom window was sealed shut before I was allowed home for the visit, so they knew I couldn’t get out that way, nor was I trying. He simply wanted me to know that I was going to be punished by them and by the prison wardens they were taking me back to, with the 15 ft tall fences and razor wire.

My mother called the school, and called their pastor. She then went out into the garage to get some ropes. These weren’t soft cotton ropes, they were the scratchy plastic-enhanced kind they use for water-skiing. My mother and step-thing then proceeded to strip me down to my bra and underwear and tie me to my daybed frame and sit on me while hitting me and screaming at me that I was worthless and they didn’t want me. When I screamed for help, knowing the neighbors wouldn’t come, they laughed at me, my mother shoved a stuffed animal in my mouth and then told me, “It’s not my fault you’re posessed.”

The pastor arrived and made them give me back my clothes, then he sat down to talk to me. I told him I’d go anywhere, do anything, live with anyone else, I just didn’t want to go back to that school. He told me there was nobody else who would take me. With all of the lies my mother had told everyone when they sent me away, I knew they probably thought I was some juvenile delinquent. My own family looked down their noses at me because of it (they still do). I told the pastor what my step-thing had done to me that day, about how he had treated me for years, because my mother had never believed me, I hoped maybe he would. He went in the living room to talk to them about what I’d said. When he returned, he looked me in the eye and said, “Ange, tell me the truth, that didn’t really happen, did it?” I knew I had no hope left. I gave up. I just sat there and cried.

The pastor loaned my mother and step-thing his car and called a church deacon to help them drive me straight back to the school. I fell asleep in the car and woke up when we stopped for breakfast about an hour from the school. I don’t know if I was drugged or what, but that was more than a 12 hour trip, and I slept the entire way.

My mother left me at the doors to the school. She barely took the time to say goodbye.

At 15, I realized there was nobody in this world I could count on. That has never changed. This is who I am, and why I fight for everything I have. This is who I will always be.

Currently reading :
Faith of the Fallen (Sword of Truth, Book 6)
By Terry Goodkind
Release date: By November, 2001

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[…] 05th 2007, 23:04 pm Filed under: Tidbits About My Life If you’ve read my recent post Part of What Makes Me Who I Am then you’ll understand a little bit about my current dilemma: my step-thing had what the […]

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