Child Abuse Story From
Fran

This child abuse story from Fran page was created August 1, 2007 and was originally posted on July 22, 2007 as story #164.

PLEASE NOTE: 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

Child Abuse Story From Fran:

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 everywhere.

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.

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References

NOTE: Information pages on this site were based on material from the
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Child abuse story from Fran was re-formatted June 1, 2015