I suppose I should start this off with a strong warning about subject matter and content. This is a story of childhood sexual abuse, rape, drugs, prostitution, homelessness, slavery and ... eventually ... freedom.
I look at the world and see
Darkness and deception
Pain and hate
Vultures hovering, waiting
To scour my bones clean of flesh
You look at the world and see
Sunlight and truth
Serenity and love
Sparrows flying gracefully, anticipating
The joy of a new day
It is just a matter of perspective
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I was under observation and suicide watch for several weeks. I made up stories for the Psych's so that I could get out of this place as soon as possible. I must have been pretty convincing, because they soon pronounced me fit to leave and I went home to my family with some trepidation as to how I would be treated there. Mom doted on me, trying to satisfy my every wish, David kept trying to get me to laugh and I think he considered these efforts a success every time he got a ghost of a smile from me. Annie didn't really understand what had happened, but she fell into the behavior that our mother and brother were displaying.
Mark kept his distance from me for the first few weeks after I came home. I allowed myself to hope that he would see how badly his actions had effected me and would stop. What a fool I was! After about a month he once again began his nocturnal visits to my room. It was worse now, he told me he had to punish me severely for my actions and part of that punishment was to be sodomized repeatedly.
I became once again sullen and withdrawn, avoiding any and all attempts of my classmates to befriend me. Except for one other girl. She was an outcast, skinny, bespectacled, horrible complexion and severe acne problem. Her hair was thin and stringy, always had an oily sheen to it even just after being washed. The boys referred to her as Gopher due to her prominent buck teeth. The other girls called her Creature because she had developed a habit of snarling and hissing at them when they made fun of her. (They all referred to me as The Demon, and I guess I don't really blame them for that.)
One day toward the end of the sophomore year, several girls were taunting Creature and she was trying to get away from them, but they followed her. As they came closer to where I was sitting on the bleachers, I could hear some of the coarse and degrading comments they were casting at her. One girl, I think her name was Becky Meyers, made the comment that Creature was having sex with her father and that if she would allow him to cum on her face every now and then it would clear up her complexion.
This was too much for me and I came up off the bleacher and arrowed straight toward Becky, slamming her in the stomach with my shoulder and bowling her over. I sat down on her chest and began pummeling her face with my fists, rapidly and very accurately. The other girls, after recovering from their shock at the ferocity with which I had attacked, began to push and pull and strike at me to get me off of Becky. I struck out at them as well, kicking and punching them with blind fury. Finally, one of the teachers ran into the midst of the fracas and separated me from the other girls.
Becky's face was a mask of blood and darkening bruises. My knuckles were covered in her blood as well. Creature was staring at me with an inscrutable expression on her face. I spent the next hour or so in the principal's office. The other girls had told them that I attacked Becky without provocation and that they had all tried to stop the fight. Creature refused any testimony one way or the other. I was suspended from school.
Rumors about me circulated unabatedly, and the events of the previous fall, the suicide attempt and stay in the hospital, were examined over and over, blown out of proportion and embellished along the way. Some said that I was devastated because I was in love with another girl (Becky Meyers was the name that usually came up here) who had refused my advances. Others talked about my obvious hate of anyone and everyone and alluded as to how I should be locked up in a mental institution.
Creature, after hearing all of these rumors, went to the principal about three days after I was suspended, and told her side of the story of the fight with Becky. As her version and mine were an almost identical match, I was called back in to school, and had another long meeting with the principal. The other girls involved were also interviewed again, and slowly the truth was revealed. My suspension was lifted, and I returned to find that I was now avoided even more than usual.
About two weeks after I was allowed back to school, Creature approached me and told me how sorry she was that I was punished for defending her. I told her that defending her had nothing to do with my attacking Becky, but that her comments were what had done it. It struck me as being so foul that I didn't even know this girl's name, and had referred to her as Creature myself, along with the other girls. I hesitantly asked her name and she told me it was Sandy Abbot. Sandy may have been unattractive, but she was highly intelligent and intuitive. I could tell that she was thinking hard about my motive for beating Becky so brutally, and she suddenly asked me if I was being sexually abused by my father.
Well, I was stunned at first, then vehemently denied any such thing. She tried to apologize for suggesting such horrible thing, but I abruptly rose and left her sitting there.
I avoided Sandy for the next week or so, but one day I saw her sitting alone in the gym, head in her hands and she looked so lost and forlorn that I couldn't help but to approach her. Asking if I could sit with her, I began to apologize for my behavior. She said it was okay. No one wanted to associate with her anyway, so why should I be any different. I sat staring at the floor trying to think of something to say. Finally I said "You were right, you know. About me. About my ... step father."
She looked up at me and her eyes were bright with tears barely held back and nodded. "I know. Me too."
We sat in silence for a few minutes and I finally said "My name's Jenny Sloan." And extended my hand to her.
She hesitantly took my hand and said "I know, Jenny. I'm sorry I was right."
We became friends. Two against the world. We shared our dark and dirty secrets. We knew we could trust one another not to reveal these secrets. We began having sleepovers, mainly due to the fact that our abusers would leave us alone if we were together. We spent every moment we could together during the following summer and into the next school year.
Sandy told me tearfully one afternoon in October that her father was changing jobs and they were moving up to San Francisco. I was devastated, as she also was, at the thought of losing my one friend and confidante. I made up my mind over the following week that I too would be leaving. I would not be leaving with family though. I thought that I could make a good start for myself on my own, I knew I was tough. I was sixteen years old and pissed off at the world. I began packing certain clothing items in a small backpack that I kept hidden in the closet. November 1st was my deadline. The day Sandy and her family would be leaving for Frisco, I would be leaving also. Destination: unknown.
The Dark Journey - Chapter 3: Recovery and Resolution
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- The Ravyn
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The Dark Journey - Chapter 3: Recovery and Resolution
Last edited by The Ravyn on Wed Feb 25, 2004 2:23 pm, edited 1 time in total.
take my hand if you don't know where you're goin' ... i'll understand .... i've lost the way myself ...
j. kaye
whatever you do ... don't click here
j. kaye
whatever you do ... don't click here
- thief of dreams
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ok that line gave me chills this time around... had a flash back of a poem posted in tribute a while back.. i uhh.. yea..David kept trying to get me to laugh and I think he considered these efforts a success every time he got a ghost of a smile from me.
![Sad :cry:](./images/smilies/icon_sad.gif)
"Thoughts are the shadows of our feelings - always darker, emptier and simpler."
Friedrich Nietzsche
Friedrich Nietzsche
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