This child abuse story from Fran page was
created August 1, 2007 and was originally posted on July 22, 2007 as story #164.
This story has not been edited for grammar, spelling, punctuation, sentence
structure or Internet-eze. Where necessary, I have edited for length and inappropriate
or gratuitously graphic content.
Fran is from Grande Prairie, Alberta, Canada
The following child abuse story from Fran depicts:
physical abuse, child neglect, and emotional abuse
The child abuse effects on Fran: fear, the need to steal food for survival, feelings of betrayal against her father who did not protect her, the need to stand up for herself when she was a teen--Fran threatened to kill her stepmother if the woman laid another hand on her
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When I was 7 months old, my dad split from my mom who was a 16 yr old drug addict at the time. I was placed in my father's parents care for 3 and a half years. I loved my grandparents so much, and when my dad came back and told me that he was marrying a "New Mommy" I was pretty excited at 4 years old. But when I met her I knew something was wrong, I didn't like her from the start.
My wicked stepmother had this strange hold on
my dad and made him do things he didn't want to do. While he was at work, I was
left alone with her. She didn't feed me, no baths, no attention, absolutely
nothing. And it became worse when she'd make up things that I had done wrong,
and when daddy would come home from work I'd be waiting on my bed for my
nightly spankings. He didn't usually hit me with anything but his hand, but
there was at least 10-20 spanks per night.
One day she realized that she could be doing
more to me than just that, so she started her stream of horrible abuse to me.
She would wake me up in the mornings by dragging me out of bed by my hair. Then
she'd make me watch her feed my baby brother and she wouldn't feed me. She
liked to starve me for 2-4 days at a time. She made me eat spoons full of
pepper when I told her that she was hurting me, and she would put allspice on
my mashed potatoes and force me to eat them. Because of this abuse, I couldn't
control my bladder very well, and at 7 years old I was still wetting the bed.
She would make me go to school in the clothes that I had peed in, and I had no
friends. I sometimes wore my peed clothes for 2-3 days at a time. She would
make me stand in the corner for hours and hours, and as if that wasn't bad
enough, I had to be naked and holding my arms straight above my head, if they
werent straight she'd come and beat me with the wooden spoon. She used to make
me hold my hands out for her to hit them, and when I'd flinch, she would hit me
Social services kept taking me away, but they
also kept bringing me back to that house. My daddy didn't know half of what was
going on there, but that's because they weren't getting along very well and he
stayed away so that he didn't have to deal with it. But I had to deal with it.
One winter, she pushed me outside to play
without any winter gear on, no mits, no hat no boots, no coat. I sat outside
huddled and shivering in the park behind our house until a neibour came in.
One time, my dad and stepmother took me up a
dark dirt road, and made me ride my tricyle home. They left me there, in the
middle of the night to ride my tricycle home. I found some neibours and they
called the police, but I still went home that night.
Since she didn't feed me, I would sneak out of
my room in the night and eat bread. I didn't think it was wrong, but she did.
She caught me, and the next day she stoked a huge fire in the wood stove and
tried to touch my fingers on it to burn me. I was strong enough to wiggle away,
but then she forced my daddy to do it. He hit my head real hard on the wood in
the wood box and almost knocked me out, but that was just long enough to touch
my knuckles on my right hand onto the stove pipe. They instantly started
sizzling and I screamed. They wouldn't bandage my fingers and that's how I went
to school the next day. I was then removed from the home for good.
But during all of this, I spend my years in 14 different foster homes, some of them with other children who had been sexually and physically abused. Those kids used to torture me too, and tell me that I deserved everything I had got. By 13 years old, She hit me one last time and I threatened to kill her if she touched me again. She never ever did.
NOTE: Information pages on this site were based on material from the
Canadian Red Cross RespectED Training Program. Written permission was obtained to use their copyrighted material on this site.
Child abuse story from Fran was re-formatted June 1, 2015
From Victim to Victory
How I got over the devastating effects of child abuse and moved on with my life