Child Abuse Story From Brian2

by Brian
(Northern California, USA)

The Hand of My Mother's Boyfriend: 
I was abused when I was eight years of age. I was a happy child overall. My mom was a single parent and raising three boys. She met a new boyfriend, and right away I could sense something about him that was not good. Even though I was only eight, I was the acting man of the house. To him, I was in the way. He treated me poorly from the very beginning. Me being of strong will and determined, I didn't back down from him. I can remember the first time he laid a hand on me. It was over him poking holes in the ceiling of our house that was owned by my grandmother. I told him that he shouldn't be doing that, and he slapped me in the face. I ran outside and went to my grandmother's to tell her about it. She called my mom, and my mom's boyfriend lied and said that I fell.

Shortly after that time, we moved to the next town over. That is when things got really bad. The whole time frame for the abuse was about two months total, but for the longest time I thought that it was two years. My brothers and I were not allowed to go to school or even go outside. I barely had the chance to come out of my room. When I was allowed to come out, it was to eat peanut butter and honey sandwiches or to be beat with whatever tool that he decided to use. He would throw me against the wall or door and then hover over me and choke me. I would voice my opinion about the way he was treating me, and then I would get hit even harder. When we lived in a house that had a basement, he would put me in there without any light for up to an hour. I would be given ice cold showers and be forced by his hand to stay under the shower head. One day I was taken into the dining/living room and a paper bag was placed over my head and then I was hit several times by a mini souvenir baseball bat by the boyfriend. He said it was my two-year-old brother. I also got spanked repeatedly by belts and a rope.

While I would be in the bedroom with my middle brother, I would often tell him that one day I was going to escape and get help. I assured him that I would return for him and our family. I never did escape the way I dreamed I would.

My grandmother would come over about once a week and drop off the mail. The day she dropped off the mail felt different for me. I remember her walking up the sidewalk and she was there for a short time. She left, and sometime later in the day, she returned with the sheriff's deputy. I was so happy to see them show up.

My brothers and I were turned over to Child Protective Services and then taken to live at my grandmother's house. Before that, I had to go the substation and have pictures taken of my body and give a report of what all happened. I am thankful for that day. If that day hadn't come, I stood a good chance of not being here as a survivor to tell my story, as others here have as well. I had received bruises all across my buttocks, a soft spot on the back of my head, bruises all over my body. With being kept in isolation and not having to go to school, it didn't matter if the marks were visible or not.

I can honestly say that I am fortunate to have the family and the support of others through my misfortune. Without them, I would not be the man that I have become today. I have been able to overcome many obstacles along the way. It hasn't always been easy.

When I was 23, I did a report for one of my fire classes to become an instructor and I did my report on child abuse and prevention. It was one of the hardest things to do in my life, to stand up in front of my peers and present something that was so close to my heart. I tried not to mention my story, but I felt led to, and it was such a relief. Several of the people in class that I work with on a daily basis have been in similar situations, and my report helped them. I think it is important to reach out to others that have gone through what we have and let them know there is a brighter side at the end of the tunnel.

Thank you,
Brian

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