How I beat my “Goliath”. A personal story from my past.

Life was pretty good when we lived with my Grandma.  Rebecca, my sister, slept with my Mom on her side of the duplex and I slept with my Grandma on the other side of the duplex.  Grandpa had his own bedroom on that side of the house too.  Grandma was the first one up and the last one to go to bed.  I remember her praying with me at night before I fell asleep.  I remember her rubbing vix salve all over my chest when I had a cold and put a little under my nose.  I remember her forcing a spoon in my mouth when I had an upset stomach (full of medicine) and me throwing up all over her and it was all over my hands and since I suddenly felt better I got up and chased my sister all over the house  with all that yuk all over me. lol lol lol (Oh, I was bad.)

Then we moved to Everman TX and grandma lived with us that first year.  A boy was always picking on me on the bus and I’d run yelling grandma as soon as I got off the bus and she’d usually be there waiting.  Would go in and watch cartoons.  She always had something ready for us to eat.  Then she remarried after grandpa died and moved out.  The family forced her to give up her little duplex so she didn’t even have that anymore.

Then this is when the hell started…when I was about eight years old.   Mamma kept getting boyfriends or getting married.  One day she brought home this red headed man and they were soon married maybe after a couple of weeks.  I won’t say his name.  Life became insane.  Our lives became hell.  First he asked us permission if he could spank us.  But I wouldn’t call them spankings.  I would call them the most humiliating and terrible torture sessions you could ever imagine if you were a child.  Mamma didn’t know what to do.  I and my sister lived in constant fear.  And it didn’t end there.  There was sexual abuse too.  My sister tried to tell my Mom and she got a beating for that.  We were told to keep quiet about it or we would get beat.  We were trapped.  The only escape I had was school.  I didn’t have many friends at school, just one….my best friend, Barbara who is now a friend on facebook.  At school no one liked me but Barbara.  I went to her house often to spend the night.  She had a nice Daddy.

C. wasn’t a very big man.  Probably just 5’10”.  But Mamma thinks he was full of devils.  Everyone feared C. because he was mad as hell.  He threatened to kill my mom and us if we ever left him.  He even had his brothers scared to death of him who were over 6′ tall.  He nearly killed one of his brothers who was like 6’3 or 4 and a lot bigger than him.  He made a believer out of him.  Nearly beat him to death with a baseball bat.

Mom would go work all day and have to come home and fix supper after working all day.  I had to have his tea fixed and I couldn’t forget .  If I did I would get beat.  I had to have tea ready when he got home.  If I had to make it I would get a beating.  Kitchen had to be cleaned as soon as I got home.  The house had to look perfect.  He would come home, get in the recliner and smoke his pot and drink his tea and drink his beer and watch t.v. while everyone served him.  He hurt his back on purpose at work so he could get disability and not have to work.  But they wouldn’t give it to him.  So he was a drug dealer.  Everyone in the neighborhood probably came to him for drugs.  Grandma’s bedroom where we used to go when we were afraid of the dark became probably the place where he stored the hard stuff.  We were told to keep quiet about everything.

I would pray on the way home from school, “Please God, please don’t let him be there.”  I didn’t think God heard me because he didn’t leave for a long time….but he did hear me.  I would go to Grandma’s bedroom and cover my head with a pillow hoping I wouldn’t hear him whistle, because when he whistled that meant we had to go to the bedroom and be abused.  Mamma walked in one day when it was happened and did nothing.  Just turned around and walked out, then cut me down by telling me it was my fault because as she put it, “I wanted it to happen.”  She did nothing to get us out of this situation, even after my sister told her what was going on.  Instead, she felt sorry for herself and blamed me.

Then one day I turned thirteen.  He kept his pot in old coffee cans he called his stash cans and they were kept in a cabinet down below.  He had like two dozen of them, but he didn’t use most of them.  One day I wanted to make a bank.  I had this book that told me how to make a bank out of a coffee can.  Thinking nothing of it I went and got one of the coffee cans out from the bottom of the cabinets.  C. saw me with it and got furious!  Started yelling and screaming, accusing me of stealing and grabbed the board and started dragging me to the bedroom.  He insisted I lay on the bed and take a beating…one of those horrible beatings that never ended.  I refused.  He got furious and tried to force me on the bed, but I fought back with everything I had.  Now I wasn’t as strong as C., but by now I was as strong as maybe teenage boys from over the years.  I didn’t think I could do much but I saprised both him and me.  He didn’t throw any punches but we wrestled and at the same time he was beating me in the head with this board.  He hit me maybe three times…maybe more in the head, then suddenly he grabbed his back and started hollering in pain!  He ran and layed down on the bed and layed there and cried for like 20 minutes and yelled, “Don’t you ever do that again!!!!”  Then after about 20 min. he left, maybe out of embarrassment I don’t know.  One thing for sure he never tried to make me lay on the bed again for any reason.

Mamma came home and saw that one side of my face was black and blue and I could bearly hear out of one ear.  Then she said, ” alright that’s it!   let’s get our stuff and get out of here before he comes back!”  So we started cramming clothes, suff, whatever we could in these black trash bags and we left before he got back.  We went to a relative’s house he didn’t know about and stayed gone for like a month.  C. came back one more time and me and my sister had gone to some neighbor’s house because we were scared.  C. was furious and came looking for us.  We had left a note on the door for Mamma telling her where we were.  When C. found us he kicked us in our privates from behind all the way home.  (Oh, I wanted that man to die so bad.)  One of the neighbor’s ….a man  down the street told C. “I better not see you anywhere near those girls anymore….or I’ll kill you.  I’ve killed a lot of people in Vietnam, I’ll have no trouble killing you.”  C never came back.

C. was determined I and my sister were going to be his concubines for life….but God had other plans for us.  Greater things.  I give God all the glory for delivering us from this evil man.  All I can say in addition is be careful who you marry.  And don’t be afraid to fight…you never know what you can do until you try.

QW

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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