Wednesday, February 15, 2012
My sister has turned 16.
She has failed 2 grades in school and is in the same class as me. No one so far has detected or cared that she is losing her hearing by the day. She didn't fail due to stupidity but failed because she couldn't hear in class.
Think Barbara or Bob, her own father cared? No.
They had a way to use that fault to their own advantage.
Barb and Bob took her aside and explained to her as only they could....
"You're dumb. Stupid.
You have been failed twice. Your younger sister is moving ahead of you in school and you are failing.
Quit school and get a job and you can save face. You don't need school. You can pay your way around here and give us your checks."
So, at 16 years old and with only a 9th grade education, my sister quit school and got a job as a Nurse's Aid in a nursing home. She was told to give her pay checks to Bob and Barb for rent.
How to keep her from telling her new employers of her abuse?
Barbara got a job there as well to keep a close eye on her. My sister was always the quiet, shy one and would never speak out anyway.
Besides, her abuse has all but stopped.
She was now a cash cow for them.
My beatings carried on and got more brutal and intense. One particular one seemed to make life turn a corner. Bob was getting more and more excited by them and I could tell. Wiggle and squirm as I did, I could feel his arousal in inflicting pain.
I was not his daughter and we both knew it. Rape or sexual abuse from him could be excusable in his twisted mind.
It wouldn't be incest.
This session ended badly.
Bob had turned the belt buckle around and was now using the buckle to inflict the most damage. Each blow broke the skin wide open.
I was bloody and bruised. My face, chest, back and legs resembled raw ground beef. My buttocks were bleeding and raw. Barbara took great pleasure in seeing these bloody reminders of my pain and ran to get salt to rub into them. The pain was so intense. The burning and bruises lasted over 3 weeks and I missed more school. I could barley walk.
School was my sanctuary. My safe haven. I was missing from school more and more.
When I did return to school, someone noticed my bruises. How I looked. How I walked.
I was called into the school nurse's office.
She asked me questions that I wanted so bad to answer. I wanted to open my mouth and never shut up!
Of course, I lied. Who would believe me?
Barbara could manipulate anyone.
She could tell them anything and they would most likely believer her.
Besides, If I told the truth and no one believed me, school, the one thing, the one place I loved would be taken from me.
I lived for school. School needed to be protected in my life more than my beatings needed to be exposed.
At least my young mind saw it that way.
So, I lied.
I know that they knew I was lying.
There was something in the works.
Most normal families tell their kids what the plans are in the household.
Not Bob. Not Barbara.
I had no idea why, but we were going to auction every weekend.
Selling pieces of furniture, clothes, dishes, my beloved books in the attic. Auctioning off everything. All of their belongings. Only the necessities remained.
To this day I don't know the impetus for the move but that's what was happening.
We were moving!
No idea. No one cared about me enough to tell me.
In the dark of an early spring evening, we packed up what was left of our lives into a beaten up old camper and left like thieves in the night.
I was thrilled!
Where were we going?
Anywhere was going to be better than here, right?
Bob and Barbara in the cab of the pick-up truck. Their three kids, my sister and I all cramped into the over-stuffed camper in the back with all of the belongings that we hadn't sold packed in.
It was like parole to me.
Out of the tiny window of the camper I watched the landscape go by.
I could smell the sweet smells of orange blossoms and see the deep green of the grass as we headed further south. This was all new to me.
Barbara came to the tiny door of the camper and pulled me out by my hair and told me to go upfront and keep Bob awake.
She needed a nap, she told me as she shoved me forward on the side of the road. Traffic whizzing by on the busy interstate.
I climb into the cab and to sit next to Bob as he takes the loaded down truck out of Park and we are back on the road.
"King of the Road" was playing on the truck radio.
Trailers for sale or rent
Rooms to let...fifty cents.
No phone, no pool, no pets
I ain't got no cigarettes
Ah, but..two hours of pushin' broom
Buys an eight by twelve four-bit room
I'm a man of means by no means
King of the road.
I loved looking out the window and seeing the new sights, lights and even the passing cars had a fascination for me.
Everyone going somewhere. Everyone with lives. Doing things. Going places.
The sights hypnotize me and I fall asleep with my head pressed against the glass of the passenger window.
I awake with a start. Bob has his hand on my leg. I felt his fingers digging into the flesh of my upper thigh. Rough and searching.
His glasses reflecting the lights of oncoming traffic. I slink as far against the door as I can go. I wanted to melt into the glass of the window and disappear.
Alone with Bob...
"I understand you're a woman now. You started your period, " He says.
His voice sounding so unctuous.
I sense real fear here alone with this man.
His thick fingers are trying to massage my leg as he keeps glancing at me. One hand on the steering wheel, the other trying to grope higher up my leg.
He has been getting bolder in his moves as the days have passed. My stomach lurches at his touch.
I open my mouth to protest, to scream but instead vomit gushes all over the inside of the truck cab.
Big chunks of bread and cheese that I had eaten just hours before in the safety of the back of the camper come spewing out of my mouth. Vile and smelling rotten.
Just like this monster's touch.
Puke and soured milk smells invade the cab but I don't care. Splatters of vomit dripping off the dash of the cab and pool onto the floor.
His hand is no longer on me. I want to open the truck door and escape.
Bob punches me in side of my head as he slows the truck down and pulls to the side of the interstate.
"Clean this mess up and get the hell out of here, you piece of shit! God, you make me sick."
I scamper as fast as I can and climb into the back of the truck camper panting and desperate. I curl myself up in a fetal position and just want to disappear forever.
The rest of the trip, anytime I would have to come within close proximity to Bob, I would clutch at my stomach and pretend to be close to hurling. I would roll my eyes and act like a crazed and injured animal.
It worked for a while. He looked at me with sheer disgust. My troubles ahead of me were not going to be beatings. I had something far more dangerous to avoid...
It took us a week but we arrived.
We had moved to Florida!
If you or someone you know or suspect is being abused call:
You are not alone. There is always HELP.