Child Abuse Story From Robyn

by Robyn - A Survivor
(USA)

I always wondered why such a large man has to so brutal to 5 little kids. We just wanted love. We walked on egg shells. Did everything just right, or at least we tried. If we were outside, and he pulled up, we would run into the house and into our rooms and sit there, maybe so he wouldn't notice us? If we were in the living room, and he pulled up, we again ran into our rooms. Trying to be as good as we could

I had 4 other siblings. Two younger brothers and two younger sisters. And my mother was just trying to survive as well. He controlled her so much that she still has to this day trouble making decisions by herself. He was 5'2 and 350lbs easy. We were merely those little punching bags people hang from the ceiling. He enjoyed getting mad, didn't care what it caused. He hit us, punched us, kicked up, slammed us into walls. He didn't care what effects it caused. He ruled with an iron fist. Things had to be done just like he wanted them, or someone was going to be hurt, to something would be thrown.

I remember he sent my sister to the store to get two bottles of shampoo. She came back with shampoo and conditioner. He was so angry he hit her, knocked her down. I can still see in my head, her standing there, her face soaked with tears trying to speak plainly, as when you didn't it only made him madder. She was standing there, ringing her hands, scared as she could be. I watched this, and could do nothing. I hurt so much for her.

Once, and this is the hardest to write about. My youngest sister was maybe 5 or 6. She had gotten hold of some scissors and cut her hair, as all kids do at some point in they're lives. And I found the hair that she cut off. And I told him about it. I got her into trouble. He blew his top. He went and got his belt, that was his favorite thing to use. And he had her against the end of the couch, and he hit her, and he hit her, and he hit her some more. I can still hear her screams as each strike stung her sensitive skin. I have never felt so guilty in my entire life. I always tried to protect her and I failed.

At one time, well this was often, our electricity was shut off because he didn't know how to handle money or make a budget, much less stick to it. He went to a big store and bought some Coleman camping lamps. They were plastic and really cute, I thought. I had to use this to do my homework with. I also had to use a crayon because I could not find a pencil. We never had the things we needed. He was so angry! He had hit me so hard that it knocked me out of my chair and onto the floor. He then started kicking me, over and over. At this point I remember being an outsider. Watching from above. My therapist had told me I "disassociated". It was so traumatic that I couldn't cope. My other brother was using my LiteBrite as a night light, and he was caught. My sister told me that he broke the LliteBrite and wrapped the cord around his neck. I didn't see this, but she has no reason to lie.

My other brother had a junk drawer in his dresser, things you don't know what to do with. Everyone has them. He beat him all over the living room. He slammed his head into a metal door. Thankfully he wasn't injured. As I said, I could no nothing. I could only watch as my brother was being viscously assaulted.

You're wondering where my mother was at all this? She was as scared and controlled as we were. She didn't have a voice, it had been dominated out of her. To this day, she still has trouble, even though she has found a wonderful man.

We survived a lot, and there is a lot more, but there isn't much room to put it all into words. At the age of 14, I had already developed breasts and was way past the "training bra" stage. He began to get very sweet to us. By us I mean my sister and I, although I didn't know it at the time. Asking us if we wanted anything. Bribe us with the newest style purses. It makes me sick at my stomach, but it was only at night when he would call us into his room (which is where he stayed unless he came out to beat on someone). At one time, my sister came to me and asked me to come with her because he wanted her to come and watch a scary movie with him. I said no. I knew what happened when I went in there. No way...but what I failed to realize was that she was trying to protect herself. Safety in numbers.

OK, again, where was my mother in all this? She was working the graveyard shift at a laundromat to support us. He didn't work. He worked when he wanted to, and even then he was a cab driver. To this day I get chills when I see a cab. He was a tyrant, and a control freak.

He never saw charges for molesting my sister and me, or for the physical abuse we suffered. He had talked to my mom on the phone while he was in jail and he convinced her to ask us to say we lied. It took her hours but she convinced us and we did it. For years I had tons of resentment towards my mom for this, but I finally realized that she was only doing the only thing she knew to do. Survive. And we did.

All my siblings are grown now, and thriving. It wasn't always that way. One brother suffered immense anger and no way to express it. The other stayed by his side in denial. My two sisters are thriving also. My baby sister claims she doesn't remember him or what he did, and I hope she never does, for her sake. As I said, my mother is remarried and happiest she's ever been. As for me, I was blessed enough to marry the most patient and loving man on earth. He got me through years of nightmares and emotional trauma. I love him every day. We have been married 8 years now. My sister has bee married 7 years. Like I said, we Survived.

Thank you for reading my story.

I hope it helps and gives someone else hope for their future.

Fairy tales don't tell children dragons exist. Children already know dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children dragons can be killed—G.K. Chesterton

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