Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Chapter 5 - WARNING: THIS BLOG ENTRY MAY CAUSE TRIGGERING AND RELAPSING! CHILD ABUSE, VIOLENCE. CAUTION. "In This Corner, Heavy Weight Champion....."

Oh, the days of hell on Indian School Road, as I commonly refer to them. I thought back to the time I told my mother to go ahead and kill me, as I was dead already. Anger came rushing in like a hot southern wind blowing through the desert. I went to my room and flopping down on the bed I turned my record player on, lifted the needle, set it down on the record and listened to the band Styx. "Tommy Shaw is so cute..." I thought to myself. I wonder who's got some weed was my next thought? Mabey Arlene will know someone or we can ask around. All I know is that I need to get STONED!! My head was full of thoughts of anger and I looked at a piece of paper hanging on my wall. It was a poem I had written for my mother last year for my Spanish class. It read in english, "My mother, the most beautiful mother in the world, she is also the nicest, sweetest, best mother in the world in my eyes" "She is my Sun, my Moon, my Stars in the sky". When I wrote that it had come from my heart. I loved my mother very much "but she sure has a real funny way of showing how much she loves me" I thought to myself as I stretched out on my bed. I wondered what my brother Howard was doing. Probably out getting drugs or getting busted, or overdosing as he did on a regular basis. My brother Rob was in Canada. He moved up when we were living on Indian School Road after our other brother Chess was killed. He hung around in a pit of despair for a year and then left for Canada. Chesley and he were so close and Chess was always sticking up for Rob as my dad had it in for my brother Rob and beat on him whenever he could. I thought to myself as I rolled over on my side, Tommy Shaw's voice singing the songs just for me, "why does my mom hate me? Why does she not want me?" Images from my early days made their way into my head, images and recollections of beatings that took place years before were just as fresh had they happened the week before. I hugged my pillow and went off in a daydream, or I should say a nightmare and remembered the days of hell on earth in the house on Indian School Road.

I gripped the margarine tub filled with water tightly, "oooohhh..be careful, do not spill this water...mommy will be mad" I was thinking to myself as I opened the screen door to go out to the back yard. I had my barbie dolls set up out there, it was summer, beautiful blue sky, warm, not a cloud in the sky. The screen door slammed behind me as the rebound self closing attachment was the old fashioned kind, not the air pump kind that closed slowly on it's own. The screen door closed with a "crash" and I could hear my mom yelling at me from inside the house at the top of her lungs..."LAURIE - ANN - SMITH!!!!!" I knew I was in trouble as she always called me like that when I was about to get the beats or the belt. I came into the house and I was a nervous eight year old girl, and as I let go of the screen door it slammed again, looking across the kitchen at her I could see her coming for me, "I told you not to let that door slam didn't I?" "I told you not to wake baby Shannon didn't I?" Baby Shannon was a neighbor's baby girl my mom was looking after for the day.I started to run as I could see her heading for me with the look of anger and hatred mixed in and rolled into one vicious visage. "Come here," she grabbed me by my arm and yanked me down onto my knees. The floor was an uneven stone utility room floor, literally rock hard. My knees cracked on impact. I winced in pain and she grabbed a table leg from a coffee table that had become useless for anything except to use as weapons of war and shouted at me "You NEVER listen!! You NEVER do as you are told!! She began to beat me with the table leg and I cried, of course. I was upset because I was trying to tell her I did not mean it and that I was sorry, but she was not listening. She cursed at me and dragged me outside, dropping me on the ground by the tub of water which was to be my barbie pool. "STAY OUT! YOU HEAR ME??????" I just layed there, fighting back the tears, writhing in pain from the beating she had dished out. Tommy Shaw's song was over and Denis DeYoung took over. He had a great voice. I loved his voice too, I thought as I pondered the question again, "why does she hate me?" I drifted back to the house of hell on earth and remembered a time when I was ten years old. My nephews had been over at our house and were starting to annoy me. They were not all that much younger than myself as my mother and my oldest sister were both pregnant at the same time. My mom was pregnant with me and my sister was having her first child three months after I was brought into the world. "I said leave me alone" I stomped from the back yard into the house. Going straight to my sisters and mine shared room. I slammed the door not once, not twice, but three times, opening it and closing it and each time repeating "Stay out of my room!" My mother heard me slamming my door and I could hear her from the kitchen. "G...dam....YOU!! You STUPID BITCH!" I heard her get up from the kitchen table and thought to myself, "now I'm in trouble..oh oh....." and I stood there kind of snickering to myself. Kathi was sitting on the bed doing her homework. Kathi heard my mom coming too and issued a warning.."you better stop" My mother came into the room and started to curse me, grabbing both of my wrists with her hand, she had one hand free to bitch slap me till the cows came home. At the top of her lungs she yelled at me furiously, shaking me like a rag doll, squeezing my wrist bones together like peanuts, "YOU FU..ING WHORE! YOU G....D....PIECE OF SHIT!!! Each slap coinciding in rythm with each curse word that came out of her mouth. "HOW DARE YOU! YOU G...slap...D...slap...STUPID....slap....WHORE!!!slap......and the blood from my nose splattered on the wall. Her rings were cutting my cheek and the top right side of my lip was busted..I could not even defend myself as she still had a hold on my wrists. I was about ready to pass out when with the last slap, she let go of me and I went sailing to the floor. I stayed down. I dared not even look at her. Blood was pouring from my nose and I had my hand cupped under it trying to catch as much as I could. It was on the wall, the carpet, my clothes, her clothes, and that was just round one. "Clean this mess up..." she grumbled as she left the room. I went to the bathroom and turned the trash can over to see in the mirror. I stepped up onto the trash can and as my face came into view I nearly threw up. My face was completely ravaged. She had literally re-arranged my face! I became angry. I grabbed toilet paper and began to try to get my nose to stop bleeding. By this time blood was all over the sink, the toilet, the floor and the trash can. I leaned over thinking that might help. I leaned back and it flowed down the back of my throat. I could not get it to stop and Kathi came into the bathroom and told me to lean forward and pinch my nose. She was probably in shock from witnessing the event and she did not like the sight of blood and left the bathroom quickly. I started to cry and still holding the tissue on my nose I went into the hallway and yelled at my mother "WHY DON'T YOU JUST GO AHEAD AND KILL ME!!! I'M DEAD ANYWAY", with that I went and sat down on the bathroom floor, nose still bleeding. My mother heard me and was back for round two, this time armed with a belt. The belt whipped through the air, catching my legs, "I'll KILL YOU, YOU ROTTEN SELFISH LITTLE BITCH!! I'LL KILL YOU, MARK MY WORDS! GOD D... YOU TO HELL! YOU F....N' WHORE!!!" my brother Howard came and took the belt from her and convinced her enough was enough. I sat in the bathroom, wondering if my nose would ever stop bleeding.

5 comments:

  1. stunned by this. I keep commenting so you know I was here to read.

    ReplyDelete
  2. This horrific scene plays over and over in my mind...like some kind of horror movie stuck on replay. I will not forget that she tried to destroy me so that I can remember why I fight to live, and why it is so important for us survivors to speak up and speak out against abuse of any kind.

    ReplyDelete
  3. It is a miracle we're still alive, isn't it? Thank you so much for having the courage to share your story and let us include it for The Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse. No child should be treated that way. Ever. No matter what. Take care of you.

    ReplyDelete
  4. I am stunned as I read this. I have a daughter who is 8 and a son 10. I can never imagine getting so out of control mad at them like your mother did to you. I'm so very, very sorry for all of this pain you have endured. I know I have more to read but this post was very powerful and I just want you to know that I am angry for you. You didn't deserve one once of this treatment. I'm so glad that you are here to talk about it and find healing from it.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Karen, thank you for your kind words of support. I appreciate all of the comments made by supporters, and friends, and I thank you for taking the time to send my heart such healing words!

    ReplyDelete