Child Abuse Story-Francine 21-08-07

by Francine
(San Ramon, California, USA)

Those Who Were Supposed to Protect Me:  
Even when I was little, Grandma Olga and her husband/sidekick, Grandpa Anatoly (a.k.a. "Big Guy") would come over to visit me. Sure, my grandparents were good to me, but they never stopped the beatings from my parents! They felt that every kid needs to be punished when he/she misbehaves, otherwise, does bad.

One time last year when Grandma came over, I immediately ran up to her for some help because my parents were brutally beating the shit out of me. But all she said was, "If you stopped being a troublemaker for good, then your life would at least be a bit easier. Just because you don't like your parents at all, this doesn't mean you get to make up stories like this. No granddaughter of mine will ever be saying things like that!"

I hated my grandparents after that incident. They were supposed to protect me, but instead they betrayed me!

I was only 7 1/2 years old when my mother, in a crazy fit of rage, beat my pet mouse to death with a flyswatter. It was a white mouse that I'd been raising after I had discovered him eating the seeds next to the peach tree in my former backyard (I used to live next to Golden View when I saw him). That little mouse would crawl up to my lap, only for me to pet him. That mouse must've been my only friend, outside of school. Anyway, that incident made me realize that whenever I tried to take an animal home to keep as a pet, my mother killed it!

Whenever I tried to watch cartoons (I was still a kid), my parents turned off the TV and then either beat me or locked me up in my bedroom, where I had been kept for 5 1/2 years. They won't allow me to love anything!

Back in the seventh grade, my mother sent me to school in turtlenecks everyday. It was her way to humiliate me! The kids would laugh at me and call me "Turtleneck Girl". This continued until one of my para-educators, Mrs. S, took the matter into her own hands because she was very concerned (actually, I'm autistic). She sent me to the ladies' locker room and had me change my (green) turtleneck into my P.E. shirt. When I thanked her, she immediately sent me back to class, but not before she firmly warned me, "In the future, I don't want anyone making fun of you anymore. Got it?", to which I agreed. When my mother came to pick me up, she saw me in the P.E. shirt and immediately was furious. First of all, she stormed out of the car and screamed at Mrs. S for interfering and said, "I will raise my daughter in my own way, so mind your own beeswax, Cindy!" Then she took me home and beat me up for accepting charity.

But now that I've had to turn to the psychologist at school, I feel that things are slowly starting to get better. So if you need help for yourself/your loved one, do what Mrs. S did, cuz she saved my life!

Email addresses, phone numbers and home addresses in comments are strictly prohibited.