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Rated: 18+ · Chapter · Psychology · #1836347
Written in chapters. Being edited.
My life changed drastically when the cops showed up.

We--my mom and I, plus a few other kids, had a one bedroom apartment. Three of us had to share a bed together to stay warm. There was no other place to sleep. It wouldn't be unusual for us since we did it all the time anyway--one double bed with four kids in it--end to end.

At least my step-dad wasn't there.

My mother must have woken up before I did. I came out of the bedroom and saw her sitting in front of a chair on the floor, her arms across her knees, and her face was red and damp. She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

"Why are you crying?" I asked. I sat down by her for a few minutes and joined in as she stared at the bare walls. I couldn't figure out what had happened to make her so upest, and then even at my young age, I thought about the babies.

One was still in the crib. We already had more than my mother could take care of, but she did her best. Part of me resented the babies, but they were so cute too, just difficult to care for. I helped my mother any way that I could. Our living conditions could only improve and surely not get any worse. Us kids were lucky if we got socks and shoes, or even lunch while at school. We simply didn't have any food or money or step-dad would search around and find it and use it to drink on.

Not eating didn't bother me much. I was use to surviving on very little.

I felt sorry for my mother though because nobody helped her. Her family was far away, but didn't really understand why she chose a life with this man. They didn't want contact except from far away. It was like she was exiled from the family, Occasionally they sent her money, and she rarely got to talk to any of them. She'd gone for years with no contact.

She was taken for granted, and it was wearing her out. We'd lived several blocks away from the Coca Cola plant in Los Angeles. We'd just moved out of a condemned house, which had slanted floors. I don't even think the toilet worked properly. It was right next to two dilapidated hotels.

What initiated our move was my step-dad getting arrested, plus we were ordered to leave our "home" because the place was being torn down by the city.

After we moved into the apartment, I wondered how long it would be before Stepdad found us again. This place seemed better, but with very little money, I had the feeling we didn't have enough for everything.

I looked at my mother again. She'd still not moved. Soon, I knelt beside her. "Are you going to have another baby, mommy? Is that why you're crying?"

The sounds she was making now reminded me of a baby when it's been hurt. I hated hearing it and seeing her so upset. I put my arm around her shoulders, took her face in my hands and kissed her cheek. "Everything will be okay. You'll see," I whispered.

Someone was knocking at the front door. "LAPD. Open up," a man's voice said.

"Don't open it, whatever you do," my mother whispered to me. She must have known what was going to happen..She got quiet, hanging her head now, not looking at anything. The sniffles and sobbing subsided. I thought maybe she'd fallen asleep. Maybe if we were really quiet, the police would go away. Even the rapping at the door stopped for several minutes.

I almost jumped out of my skin when the tapping on the door picked up again. I heard whispers behind the door, and then movement. "Open the door. Nobody is going to hurt you," a voice said."We just want to help you. I promise."

My hand shot to my mouth and suppressed a whimper. My eyes darted from one window to another. I didn't see anything move behind the flimsy curtains. Somehow, they were watching us I expected someone to jump through the window at any moment. I curled up closer to my mother.

The voice kept talking, pleading with someone (me) to open the door. I looked at my mother, looked at the door, looked at her, and then heard another voice say they might have to break it open. "I'm going to ask you again. Open the door or we'll do it for you."

This was bad news. Somehow I sensed it would be much worse if they did, and I knew they'd not give up. And so...I got up, took a few steps, reached for the doorknob, looked back at my mother one more time, who wasn't looking at me; and I opened the door.

Everything happened so fast. I thought I might get knocked down. Like a tornado, men and women in uniforms flooded the room, going in different directions.Someone grabbed me. I struggled to look back at my mother.

"No! No! . Please! Let me down!" I begged and wriggled and squirmed , then kicked my legs.

"Stop! Stop fighting me. I don't want to hurt you and I am not going to hurt you," my captor said. I was whisked away unwllingly yet compliant. I had no choice. Even with all my struggling the officer was not about to let go.

The other children didn't realise what was going on. I was guided into the back of a police cruiser and secured inside. I'd never been in a police car before. The seats slanted downward making it difficult to sit up.

Somehow I wriggled around, putting my legs under me I was very uncomfortable . I managed to kneel and stare out the window. My mother was outside now, and being questioned by the police. She looked straight at me. My hand touched the window and slid downward. The glass seemed blurry. Whether it was from the rain or my tears I wasn't sure. I mouthed, "I love you." My face felt hot.

I wondered if I hurt my mother worse than anyone could, yet that was not my intention. My thoughts were--if I had only known, I could have climbed out the window and ran off so they'd not catch me. It wouldn't be until much later I realised just how lucky I was.

The front door of the cruiser opened and the same police officer entered and sat down behind the wheel. "Are you okay back there?" he asked.

I didn't answer. I couldn't. If I did, I knew I'd cry.

He talked into his mic using some letters and words I didn't understand.

As we drove away; my eyes stayed focused on my mother until I couldn't see her anymore. I eased back into the seat, and sat staring into the darkness of the back of the car seat. I felt the cruiser stop and startas we stopped, and saw traffic lights as we passed by.

The officer tried again. "You're awfully quiet back there. Won't you talk to me?"

No answer.

"We're going on a long ride.Wont you say something, anything?"

What could I say? What would it matter?

Would you talk to me? Please?"

He sounded so sincere. Why would he want me to talk to him? "My mom...." I managed.

"You're mom is going to be okay."

She sure didn't look okay. Now she would be alone with that monster.

"We're going to help her," he said.

We went by buildings,several if them. I tried to move in the seat, but couldn't. So I scrunched down so he'd not be able to look at me. We glided along the city streets, but soon we made a turn and were on a long stretch with no stops and starts.

The officer spoke again. "You were very brave back there. I'm proud of you and your family is too. You don't think so now, but later on you'll realize that you did the best thing you could have ever done for your family."

There was nothing for me to say. I didn't feel that special. He got quiet. While he focused on the traffic, I decided to stare at his profile, and wondered what kind of man this was. He was different than any man I'd known. His voice was soothing. His features contrasted with the stormy darkness outside of the car. He had a nice face.

For some reason I felt safe. A sense of calm came over me, although I wasn't sure why and had no idea where we were going.

He continued. "Promise me that you'll remember my words." He adjusted his rear view mirror and looked at me. "Can you do that for me?"

I nodded.

He seemed happy. "That's a girl."

I didn't know why but somehow that almost made me smile. I sat back, and thought about what happened. Why did they come and take us away? The officer never told me.

Nobody knew what my step-dad did to me or to my mother, so it couldn't be that. They might have guessed what step-dad did to her, considering his arrest record. The cops were called more often than not, usually by concerned citizens.. Nobody knew what he did, except him and I. Why didn't I tell anyone? First off, he told me not to, but it wasn't the words he used, but the way he said it.

"I'll find out if you do," he said.

My stepdad would have taken it out on my mother and beat her like he always did. He was worse than ill-tempered, he was cruel.I didn't want him to hurt her. Deep down I knew what he did was wrong, but I didn't die from it and neither did she.

Much later, I heard just how cruel he could be. He'd put her hands in windows and slammed them down on them. I'd heard her talking about it once when someone asked if he ever hit her before. I learned that he'd broken her nose and her jawbone. He'd punched her in the stomach when she was pregnant. Much later on, I had heard about how when I was five or six years old and living with my grandparents, she'd been put in a sanitarium. She was so bad off, she wouldn't respond for weeks or even months when talked to.

Chilicothe, Ohio
There was the night where I woke up in a car. I looked out the window and could barely see since it was so dark, but what I did notice was voices. One angry one, the other saying, "Stop. You're hurting me."

"Where are we?" I asked my brother who was sitting on the seat next to me.

"What does it matter?"

"Where's...." Just then I heard a commotion outside the car. I peeked out again. Over toward the front of the car was my stepdad. He looked scary. He wobbled a bit as if he couldn't stand up. Near the back of the car, was my mother, shrinking away from him.

"Quit looking out the window. Sit down or you're going to be in trouble."

I turned my head."No!"

My brother was tugging on my clothes. "Sit down!"

"No! Stop it. How can you sit there and just let him treat her like that?"

"We can't do anything about it. Stay out of it."

We kind of got into a struggle.he was pulling. I was pushing. He shoved me onto the floorboard. "Now stay there and don't be looking out the window," he said.

I ignored what he said and got back up. Step dad was calling her names now.

"You know he's going to give you a whippin," my brother said behind me.

"I don't care. We have to do something. He's going to hurt her!" I struggled for the door .

"Get down!" My brother said, yanking on my arms.

I jerked loose from his grip, .my fingers curled around the door handle, and in seconds the door flew open and I jumped out, planted my feet on the ground. I stood facing the monster and shielding my mother, my arms stretched out at my side.

"Get back in the car,, honey," my mother said. Her hands gently guided me toward the car door. I wasn't having it.

"No! You leave our mother alone!" I screamed at my step-dad. My teeth were chattering, my legs and arms were shaking, my whole body was quaking. Maybe it was because it was frigid outside or I was dangerously close to losing control. Thank god I didn't have a weapon or I might have tried to use it.

He took a step toward me. I knew I was about to die and I didn't care.

I heard a clicking sound like metal against metal."Hold it right there!" someone said.
Step-dad knew that sound and so did I.

He froze.

I don't know what happened right after that. I don't remember. Maybe I passed out. Maybe he knocked me out. I just don't know. I draw a big blank when I try to remember. It was almost like I dreamt it, yet I knew I hadn't.

All I can remember after that was what must have been days later. My brother and I were messing around in a garden, and playing in trees with hollowed out tree trunks. There was a horse in the barn. I even got in trouble for climbing up into the stall and getting onto its back.

I didn't get whipped though. Step-dad wasn't there, but an uncle was. After a short time, we had to leave that place. Maybe step-dad got out of jail. I don't remember. I have a hard time remembering the exact timeline of these. I might even have some of this backward.

We were taken to my grandparent's house, and lived with them for quite some time. Most of our time was spent watching the small black and white tv--cartoons until lunch time. At least we got to watch it while eating our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Life was easy. We were safe.

But then one day, my mother and stepdad showed up and said we were going on an outing.we didn't know where.

They'd taken us with them, but they never brought us back to our grandparent's house. I know because they told us later that we were going away with them. We'd be together as a family. Little did we know that wed never see our grandparents again.

Everything was okay for a while. Next we were living in a house on some farm land. We didn't have anything, but we did have a roof over our head. We'd slept in one room, with a large bed at either end. A dividing wall separated the kitchen from the area which would have normally been the living room. The back room was so cold nobody could stay in it. . This was where the clothes were hung to dry. Just out back was a pig pen. I watched them sloshing around in there, snorting.

After a while, I got tired of them oinking at me.

"Why are you staring at them?" My brother asked.

"I like to watch them." I leaned forward. "Here piggy piggy."

"If you get too close enough, they'll eat you. They'll eat anything, you know."

"Oh, shut up. They won't eat me. They don't even like meat, especially not humans. If they did and you fell in, they'd surely run away." He'd already wandered off. I got tired of watching them, and walked back toward the woods and the creek bed. This was the creek bed where I my life almost ended. It was also where my step-dad might be considered a hero, yet he wasn't. Then again, what if he had left me hanging there. I would have been one less mouth to feed. Maybe both he and my brother would have explained, "Oops, she fell. Not my fault. She was just a dumb girl and did something stupid. I was inside the house at the time."

(there is more about this on the story called Little White Dove and the Creek bed)

No. He wouldn't let me die, and I'll tell you why. More than likely, he was wanted by the law, and if I fell in the rocky ravine and died the police would show up. Yes, it was so that he'd not get caught. He hunted and we ate what he killed. We had no choice. he made the mistake of taking us hunting once. We sat in the car, him with his loaded shotgun. A blinding bright light came on. The rabbit was still, frozen in place. Stepdad had warned us not to speak or even move.

"Ooh," I said. . I didn't want him to kill the poor little thing.

A shotgun blast went off nearly deafening me, and it was over. I couldn't look. That was nothing compared to the time we watched him prepare them. The visual of those piles of rabbits, their eyes staring yet hopefully seeing and feeling nothing, and the sickening smell of death almost made me sick. With wide eyes, and from across the room, my brother and I watched him work on one after another. I kept my eyes on the fur for signs of any movement. It didn't matter though. It wouldn't have stopped him. I was spared of any sounds they might have made during the kill. Maybe he made sure they were dead before bringing them in on the piles of newspapers. Soon, he was done, and the pile of meat was taken into the kitchen. The furs I'm not sure what he did with. The scent was still strong into the night. I'm not sure how we slept in that room but we did.

What I did witness later on was bad enough. I knew he hit her, sometimes did not see it. I'd come home from school and see bruises and she'd tell me she ran into a door or fell. Sometimes I could hear him fighting with her.

But see, us kids were scared to death of him. we'd seen him drunk, and we'd seen him mad, but the worst time was when he was both. We knew what he was capable of and he didn't care who he hurt. He would have killed, skinned, gutted , and ate you if he he had the inclination and could have gotten away with it. On the upside, nobody messed with us kids, on the downside, nobody stopped him from abusing all of us.

There was this one time though. I'd had enough. I didn't care if he killed me. I think that might have been when he stopped hitting her in front of me. Mind you, I had to have been about nine years old. That was not long before he saw me as a target for his own personal entertainment

*Star*{{size:2.5}Please feel free to review this even though it's a personal experience. I won't add anything that didn't happen, but might improve how it's presented. Continuation of the story. "Everything will be okay You'll see Ch2 [18+]
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