child abuse story from Michael was created September 29, 2006.
The following child abuse story from Michael depicts extreme physical abuse, sexual abuse, and emotional abuse. Three installments of his story are included on this page:
is from Hopewell, Virginia, USA
Michael did not share the child abuse effects that his childhood had on him. Michael did tell me that God is his salvation.
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"COLD IT WAS
WITHIN THE MANOR, WAITING LIKE A WOUNDED SPARROW, HELPLESS AND FORGOTTEN"
was the only child. My mother was 39 when I was born. She had only a fourth grade
education, and my father was a house painter. I self-published a small book to
share about what I went through with others; and there was so much abuse, it
would not be enough space of course to put everything here, so I will just post
father was a quiet man until he started to drink. Alcohol made him very
violent, and no one could stay around him. He would beat the windows out of the
house and even run his own mother with a knife.
day my father came home drunk, and told me that GOD had spoke to him at work,
and told him to kill me then himself. He told me he had something in his
pocket, and was going to cut me to pieces with it. He ran me with a knife, and
I barely escaped by crawling under the house, which was low enough, he could
not get under. Any escape route that could be found was used. This event would
repeat many times. My father, sometimes when coming off a drunk and in a foul
mood, would beat me with a fishing rod. "It hurts, doesn't it," he
would say. We were very poor. HIS week long drunks took the little money he
my mother was insane, and as time went on, seemed to get worse. She spent many
hours verbally and physically abusing me. She would say things like:
wish you were never born."
you grow up, no woman will ever want you."
would have killed you when you were a baby, but trash like you are not worth
going to jail over, if I happened to get caught."
should be put in a mental institution for life."
mother would hang red peppers up on the wall, let them dry, which she claimed
made then hotter, throw me down, ram one in my mouth, or smear the pepper over
her hand and beat me till I licked it off. Sometimes I would crawl under the
bed to get away. She would go get a broom, lay down, ram it in to me till I
crawled over and licked the hot pepper off her hand. "This is the way it
is going to feel when you go to hell, and there will be no water, for in hell
you get no water," she'd say.
when my father came home from work, I would take his hand and place it on the
knots where she had beat me with a broom stick, thinking as a child, Daddy is sober, maybe he will stop it. He never did.
times, when I would go to the kitchen, she would grab a knife, hold it to her
throat. "If you come any closer I'll kill myself," she'd say. I would
run and crawl under the bed.
had hot water thrown on me out the window while I played in the sand. I quickly
learn to not go by that window.
of my grandmothers, who was the only one I could say cared about me, could
sense something was going on, and took me to social services to get help.
Social services chose to believe my mother. Over 30 years later, my family
says, "Yes your father was a drunk, but they never did anything to you."
They chose to believe the abusers and not the victim.
mother is now dead, and my father took a gun and ended his own life years later
after marrying another woman who also was an alcoholic.
I know one thing for sure, when they stood in front of GOD, there was no denying it then.
AN OCCURRENCE ON BURWELL
house looked the same, a dismal grey. There were cars parked outside. I
wondered what the people that lived there now would think, if they knew of the
evil that once walked their floors.
was 1969, I was 13. My mother and father had split up and I decided to stay
with my father. The old car pulled into the driveway. Would he be
drunk tonight? I soon got my answer.
leaped back from the window I was looking out as it shattered to pieces. My
father saw me looking out and threw the jack out of the car at me through the
window. It was once again time to run, for when he came in the house, no one
could stand against him.
nights when he got drunk he would walk the floors with a bible in one hand and
a knife in the other. If I begged him to go to bed, he would say, "don't
make me hurt you". Soon a fishing rod would come down again and again
across my shoulders and back. Sometimes there would be blood from the wounds on
my bed when I woke up the next day.
grandmother came over to check on him one day, and he knocked her out with a
pair of crutches. She went and got a warrant. The sheriff department put him in
a mental hospital for 30 days. There he met an alcoholic lady, declared his
love, told me he could not take care of two people and moved in with her. He
would take a gun and end his life with his new love a few years later.
Services said I had to go back to live with my mother, who lived alone in a
small house. It was mostly verbal abuse now. She would lie awake in her bed and
curse me for hours till she got so hoarse she couldn't talk.
began to get sick; I saw her putting mice poison in my food. When I told my
grandmother, she said my uncle was moving out. I could finally come live with
her. My uncle lived with my grandmother, got a disability check and paid half
the bills. My grandmother only got $65.00 a month Social Security. My uncle
stayed drunk and was so mean he would put bread between my grandmother's toes
so the mice would get on her bed. The house was old, and she would put out
traps for mice.
I started to live with my grandmother, my mother began to write threatening
letters to her. One day my grandmother found a brush full of grey hairs at the
back door--my mother had pulled out her own grey hairs and put them in the
brush. I know this because her letters said she was going to pull my
grandmother's grey hair out. But finally peace came.
"I CAN HEAR YOUR
DISTANCE TRUMPET, CALLING FROM THE MORNING MOUNTAIN, SINGING TO THE PASSING
RIVER, TAKE ME HOME, SHOW ME PEACEFUL DAYS BEFORE MY YOUTH HAS GONE"
would just like to finish with a few things. During the years I was abused,
Social Services didn't help children like they do now. When my grandmother took
me, she offered to take off my shirt for the lady to see the wounds. Feel his
head, feel the knotts on it. The lady said, "I see all I need to
see". At that time when company came over a child had to go in the back
room, not seen not heard. It is good to know finally society is paying attention
to child abuse now.
would like to say one final thing about my father. My grandmother went to a
local bar where my uncle drank. My uncle sent out a man who claimed to be the
baddest in town. He said he would go over and talk to my dad about his
behavior. My grandmother gave him money. Within an hour, he too was running for
his life. My father had broken a chair over his head, beat him in the face and
ran him down the street with a hammer. In his rage that day he beat my pet
squirrel to death, [the squirrel] that fell out of a tree and I was raising.
The little squirrel would crawl and sit on my shoulder. It was my friend.
my father killed himself I stood at his grave and said these words: "You
can no longer chase me anymore with your knives, nor beat me with your fishing
rods. I have a strong feeling inside that the demons of hell are now chasing
you." GOD sees what we go through and maybe one day he will explain why.
was a famous man in Israel who was shot in the chest in a meeting with his peers.
He died. The Bible speaks of this:
"PEOPLE WILL COME
TO YOU AND SAY, HOW DID YOU GET THOSE WOUNDS IN YOUR CHEST"
"YOU WILL ANSWER, I GOT THEM IN THE HOUSE OF MY FRIENDS"
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 Michael was re-formatted June 6, 2015
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