Song written by me about us 3 "Together Strong"

Our tale continues

Been a long while since I wrote an entry so its not as good or detailed but I'm not really in the best of places mentally today. Living with grandma had certain elements to it that were garunteed. 1. You will be getting several beatings in a day, your 3yr old flesh will be broken and bleeding by the time she finishes beating the "evil" out of you 2. You will not be fed, you will go hungry unless its friday, then Charlie brings his donuts , otherwise eat chicken scratch dog food and grass 3. You will be molested and raped on a regular basis and if you fight it too bad still happening. 4. Various types of torture will be used on you for thier entertainment. When my older brother finally made it to school age his teachers we very concerned about how he looked and how he behaved, scared of anything that moved suddenly or made a louder noise. The state interviend and by then they had already thrown me in the fire place to burn me for spilling a cup of milk , so the previously unattended 3rd degree burns on my arm were infected when the state arrived and they took all 3 of us to the hospital. As an adult I have read the reports all 3 of us were covered in cigarette burns on our feet and legs, battery acid burns on our backs along with deep scars from brutal beatings, severely malnurished and riddled with worms. for me they also had to list my 3rd degree burns and destroyed vagina and womb from adults raping me , we spent a total of 4 months in hospital so umm yeah thats age 3. a social worker took us away and they separated us from big brother as we werent following adults as our leader but rather big brother. He was sent to an orphanage on his own. neither myself or baby brother talked even though we should have been by then, I knew words and when spoke to understood, for some reason speach wasnt somethign we had at the time.Age 3 and baby bro age 2 we were both still not toilet trained as when your child lives outside in a chicken coop there is no need to potty train. we were sent to a very very strict foster home, they had several other kids along with us. Rules were strict and one thing out of place in your behaviour was a strapping with a belt, having never been raised with manners or taught proper human being skills , baby bro and I were beat quite a bit witht he leather strap or at the table a solid rap on the knucles by a ruler. from birth until this point we did not know kindness we did not know adults were meant to be good to us and teach or guid us, all we knew is adults caused pain in multiple ways, so it was safest to sit oon your bed and do nothing. The father of that house started playing uncle charlies game with me at night when the house slept and went further by sticking things in me. I didnt know it but he was doing the same to my brother. when the social worker came one day to take us away I saw tht man led away to a police car, so we were once more sent to the hospital to be mended. when they xrayed my head they discovered I had been beaten so badly in the head I was leaking cerebral fluid out my nose. we ended up going to a wonderful foster home from there , those people end up being the one and only good thing our young life would ever know.But back in 1975 the state of IL did not allow foster parents to adopt the kids in thier charge, so we were constantly taken away from them to go on a trial stay at potential parents homes, never chosen always sent back, back and forth months at a time our little lives knew no stability. Finally a couple chose us and kept us. The first year was perfect I was 6, but as the first year neared its end mother divorced father for cheating and suddenly the person I had known as a loving mother became my new abuser. She had taken on a baby just before the divorce so when they split she took us 2 girls and left baby bro with the father. we lived in single wide trailer trash home now , mom was always screaming at me and making me do chores and tasks way abouve my age ability. Beatings were once again daily and her boyfriend decided i was his to have as well. I was not allowed to play outside , not allowed friends at school, had to come straight home and at age 6 babysit a 2yr old. I had to do all the cooking cleaning and yard work, and anything I didnt do to her standards I got beat. At school i was severly bullied and at home the same, and this went on for the next 6yrs. Then one day i had enough and at age 12 took a razor blade and proceeded to try to end myself. I had no friends no family who loved me and the life had become unbareable to me. I was found and saved and when better beaten severely for getting mom in trouble. I constantly tried to run away to escape my hell of grown men raping me as her various boyfriends did that, beatings and bullyiing . Finally at age 14 I ran away and it stuck. By then I had a 24yr old boyfriend of my own choosing and I moved in with him aged 14. our first year together was fine we partied hard drugs alcohol you name it, if it numbs the pain great. then the bf started cheating on me which for some reason made him turn on me, he would get home super late or super early...and start in on me for no reasn, beating me as he force fucked me. Eventually one day I ended up pregnant. This is enough for now i cant go any firther for now its too hard more tomorrow.

Before My Time

None of us know the full story of how we came to be, all we really know is that somehow our parents got together and 9 months later we came along. I was fortunate at the age of 23 to find my birth mother and gain insight to many of my memories, and yes to finally get the story of how I came to be.

~Meet The Parents~

Back in the 1960's if you went to the French Quarter in New Orleans, there were many sights to see, lots of diversity and an age of free Love and music.....but if you happened into just the right club you would be fortunate enough to have gotten to see "Frenchy", a top of the line dancer, no she wasn't a pro as in Solid Gold dancers, she was a pro as in she had top billing at the local strip club, but this wasn't just any strip club or strip act....she was strictly class, top of the line, poetic and artistic in all she did.These were the days before all the filth found its way into the industry.
Frenchy was the headline act and as such she even had her own billboard, as I said this was back when strip tease was still "clean" and it was all about the "tease", not the strip. Frenchy was married to a merchant marine,we will call him "R", he was rarely around, and only came about to check in on her when he happened to be in the area. When Frenchy and R became married, R had gotten Frenchy to promise to give up the dancing racket, and go clean , have a respectable job befitting a married lady.She had agreed to this, but with R always gone, and her already the mother to one child, she had to make ends meat the way she knew best how to.The money for her dancing was good and in them days good pay for a woman was hard to get. Frenchy had originated in Illinois, later to move to California, followed by Nevada, and now finally New Orleans. She had lived a very hard life, a life full of constant neglect, abuse and even torture.Through this unconventional style of upbringing Frenchy had become a very tough broad, a lady who could hold her own, and took no crap off anyone.Though many choices Frenchy made in life weren't "acceptable" in mainstream America, Frenchy did as she felt best, and tried her hardest to be independent of anyone except herself. R was another story in his own right, his life spent traveling from place to place, bedding many women and leaving a child in every port, R was a hard core criminal, and many of his activities, even to this day only are discovered upon lengthy investigation by law enforcement. R was always in and out of jail, in and out of trouble, he too...like Frenchy, had been raised in a tough life, never fully knowing who his own father was....hence always having an identity crisis.This is just a very short introduction to these two, to try and set the scene, and give you a feel for whats what in the following story.

~Romance 101~

As I had mentioned before what I know of being conceived comes from my birth mother, and that's really the only source any of us have, besides our father's.....which mine also confirms parts of this story.

Frenchy continued to dance against R's wishes, so when he reappeared after having been gone for months, he was quite angry at what he found. There on stage parading around, and doing her routine, was Frenchy......breaking her promise to him! He was angry and stormed up onto the stage, grabbing Frenchy by the hair and dragging her kicking and screaming outside. People knew R, and knew Frenchy was R's wife, back then folks didn't tend to get involved in domestic arguments, as they felt that was private. R shoved Frenchy into a waiting cab on the street, she of course was being a hellcat in her own right and not at all making it easy to do. R finally felt he had he inside and slammed the cab door, which found it's way to her leg....as she was struggling to be out as he was shutting it.So now Frenchy had a broken leg, as cars back then had VERY heavy doors.They drove to a hotel on Royal street, knowing the couple I assume it wasn't too upscale.....and he drug her , still in agony ...up the stairs with a broken leg.He shoved her down on the bed.....and had his way with her..which by now she was done fighting..and only cared to attend to her leg....so she let him do as he pleased against her wishes.She did note to me that as she lay there trying to forget what was happening..she did observe a full moon.... and in her own words" that was the extent of the romance involved in making you"

~ Leaving Town~

When Frenchy discovered she was pregnant with me she made up her mind and moved back to Illinois.Her mother lived in a small rural town called Hegler, it's located by Danville. She obviously went back to using her birth name, which for privacy I choose not to disclose, so we will call her Frenchy throughout. Frenchy had nothing but headaches back at home with her mother, who was a severely abusive woman with a very sharp tongue and a boozing habit to fuel the fire. My grandmother was nothing but pure evil , with a very hateful spiteful way about her, this I know first hand..but that's later on. Frenchy had left R, and was now a single mother to my older brother with me on the way.I do not have much more information but this so I will go on.

~ Let Me OUT!~

It was a cold blustery February night , Frenchy had no car, and the baby was on it's way! A blizzard/ ice type storm had found it's way into rural Illinois, and to get to the main highway would be a chore. The weather had taken out the main phone lines, and back in 1970....this wouldn't be fixed till the weather passed. Frenchy had no desire to give birth at home, and so began her journey on foot to the main highway. She trudged her way through the deep snow, a bitter wind strong against her, yet another obstacle to overcome as she walked along. The storm had become a white out, and being familiar with Illinois winters, she knew a white out could spell death. She soldiered onwards tho..for this little baby....an innocent to this earth, and through all the filth of her own life, Frenchy knew this little baby was un tarnished and deserved the best start, which meant making it to the hospital. What would of normally taken 5 minutes to walk took an hour, and 3 hours later she was still walking in the direction she felt was the way to the main interstate highway.The pains were closer, and blood was spattering with her every step..."hold on", she would think to her unborn child......"patience", was this baby going to be born in a snow drift in the middle of God only knows where? She soon lost her footing and was going faint.....she saw what she thought to be headlights just as the world went black.

In The Beginning

My earliest memory is of being what I now know to be around 2 years old.I don't recall enough to write in any sense of an order, more pockets of recollection.I remember my mother as a presence, more than an actual detailed person , and I recall her boyfriend, lover, whatever he was I remember him....he was a very nasty piece of work.I recall my older brother, but not my younger one in the earliest scenarios.I will write these tiny clips as small entries and anything in these small clips i am no older than 3, then go into the main story.

~SKATES~

I recall sitting on steps and my big brother( who is about 4) helping me to put my feet into some metal skates, the kind you kept your shoes on for and the skate strapped on with leather. I remember the excitement I felt thinking I was about to do something really great, I had seen my older brother skate in these things and he seemed to of been having lots of fun.He helped me to stand up , and that's when I realized..I actually had to do something for these things to work.I was very shaky and my legs kept wanting to stray away from one another, but my big brother , though small himself..held me up and so began my very first adventure with skates!

~SNAILS~

I recall being outside of a big building, I am guessing our apartment complex. The sun was out and the sky was blue..it was one of them days when the air felt good and you were quite sure life couldn't be much better.I was sitting on the sidewalk drawing with chalk, when suddenly I discovered a shiny trail....which of course I followed to see what it could possibly be.I soon caught up to the inventor of this beautifully made path....it was what I now know as a snail...but to me then it was the most wondrous creature! My big brother came along and told me that the shell I saw on it's back was in fact it's home! I remember thinking how great is that, he can move whenever he likes and his house comes along with him!I did like most kids at that young age and began poking at it with my finger cautiously.....I was quite intrigued by those lil antlers they had that as I touched them they would recede into themselves, and then back out again when I wasn't touching it.I spent most of that spring morning playing with and investigating this new found inhabitant of my world...then mom's boyfriend came along and told me to stop playing with that filthy thing, and he crushed it beneath his boot.

~DEATH~

I remember having a little fluffy kitten, I am not really sure if it was mine, or if it were stray, but I do recall taking it into the apartment complex to show someone, probably my mom.....I'm not sure if she was there at the time or not, as she often was away, but I do recall her boyfriend taking the kitten off me, twisting its soft little neck and throwing it out the window.....we lived at the least 2 floors up, as I then recall running to look out the window and seeing the kitten on a roof top below, still and not moving.I must not have understood the idea of death yet, because I don't remember feeling sad about this, only confused, and worried about if the kitten would need a doctor, as I did understand the idea of being hurt or in pain.I am not sure how my big brother knew of this event, whether he was in the room at the time, or down below and saw it fly out the window, but I do know he immediately found his way onto that rooftop(don't know how) and brought the kitten down to me. I was by then outside again and he told me it was dead.I asked him could the firemen next door fix it, and he said no, dead meant never forever, and that once something was dead you could never get it back again.This of course made me very sad, and then my brother showed me what we do with things that are dead, and we buried the kitten.

~HUNGER~

I remember being inside the apartment, which to this day I am not sure of the size of it, but as my mind recalls it was 2 rooms, living areas and sleeping area, with a tiny kitchenette .I recall knowing we were not allowed to eat, and that food was a rationed item to only "good kids".I was so very hungry and knew that moms boyfriend had bought some crackers, now being grown I also know they were Ritz crackers.I can remember my mom saying not to get into them as "Jerry" would be very upset if we did, and then she left.We 3 sat in that apartment for what in child terms felt like an eternity...all the time wanting but just one of those crackers, and my big brother reminding me of the severe recourse I would face if I gave in to my hunger.Many days we would spend with our big brother going through the back ally dumpsters(tips) to find food thrown out by restaurants.Finally "Jerry" came home, and out came his crackers.....baby brother got one, and big brother got one....I thought it would be my turn, but no..Jerry said I was an evil little girl and couldn't have one because I did not deserve it.I was so very hungry by then and could feel my belly churning inside me.I do not recall the thought pattern which led to what I did next, but suddenly I found myself running up and stealing the very cracker "Jerry" had planned for himself out of his fingers.It all happened so fast , but the next thing I knew my big brother was opening the door to go out, and screaming desperately for me to run! I didn't have to double think this....and out the door I flew, with Jerry fast on my heels.I was very fast, and remember thinking how proud I was at how very agile I was being.When I thought I was in the clear, several floors down....I saw two older girls(10 or 12) sitting each on a side of the hallway their backs to the wall and their legs interlaced in the middle of the hallway forming a hurdle of sorts.I heard Jerry coming down the last flight of stairs to catch up with me, and panic went through me, I was much too little...how was I going to get past these girls.The though quickly flashed through my mind of the beautiful lady I had seen on T.V., she was like a princess, and would jump and twirl, doing beautiful leaps and bounds....I of course now as an adult know she was a ballerina....but back then I thought she was a princess.I stuffed my cracker, which I had clenched in my little hand all this time, into my mouth to fee my hands, and went for it. I took a running start and just as I got to the "hurdle", I lept like I had seen the princess doing, my arms out in true ballerina fashion....my eyes closed all the while....the taste of my cracker fresh on my tongue.I landed..without falling! I was so happy, but there was no time for joy as I saw Jerry fast on my heels and I opened the door, which to me then was a very large item to pull....and out I went, down the steps and next door to the fire station.I spent lots of time hanging around this fire station, as many times we would be on our own and the firemen were very friendly.I didn't return to the apartment until I saw Jerry leave and my mom return home.

~DROWNING~

I remember being outside with my big brother and Jerry, by the swimming pool, which I am assuming belonged to our apartment complex.I remember my big brother would jump into the water and could swim ..very well for his age now looking back.I was no older than 3 myself, so he was approaching 5. I don't know how or why, but suddenly Jerry threw me into the deep end of the swimming pool, which at my age all the pool would have been deep.I didn't fight, or struggle..as I didn't know to be afraid..I just remember sinking, curled up in the fetal position and sinking..I had my eyes open and saw my big brother swim down to me..he grabbed me and tried his best to pull me up....the fear on his face caused panic in me.... something was wrong about this....I shouldn't be down like this......then I began thrashing about, trying in my little way to copy what he was doing to swim.....but it wasn't working..and then I took a breath.....The next thing I recall is sitting up on the edge of the swimming pool , choking and gasping, sputtering out water....and my firemen friends faces all around me at the pool. Jerry was no where to be found....and my big brother was near me with a very worried and upset look on his face.Jerry ended up reappearing as if he had only left for a second and I had fallen in.....he attempted to shove black liquorish into my mouth to stop me telling.I hate the stuff to this day.

~THE CHASE~

I remember being in a very large car( it was the 70's) and my baby brother was in the passenger floorboard, my big brother was up front, and I was in the back.My mother was driving like a mad woman, she was the get away car in all them movies you ever saw....and someone..was chasing us.....shooting at us.....I didn't have a fear of being shot at..as I was too young to understand the meaning of it all, my mother was of course crapping herself and screaming at us all to get down.I must first say, my mother dealt with facets of life many don't, and was what mainstream civilization deems a criminal.Since this story isn't about her but rather me....that is all I will say. I was bouncing up and down in the back seat chanting "go mommy go mommy go!", while my big brother was in the front leaning out the window shouting words I wasn't used to hearing at the people shooting at us. I now know those words as swearing, but back then they weren't words I knew.I don't know how it was we got away, and no one in our car was hurt...but what I do know is shortly after this incident we 3 kids were shoved onto a greyhound bus headed for Illinois. Mother was going to prison.

~The Big World~

From the time mother put us on the bus, until we arrived at our destination, our big brother was suddenly promoted from child to adult.We saw so many things along the way, and you must remember, in 1972..it was a very different world. The bus drivers still looked after small children being sent cross country to visit relatives, strangers for the most part were pretty trust worthy concerning children....and the world just wasn't as dangerous a place to be in.Having said that, yes it still wasn't the most ideal thing in the world to pop your 3 young ones on a bus in California and hope they made it to Illinois in one piece, but this was our mother's idea of doing something for our own good.She later told me that when she knew she was going to prison, she had no intention of letting the California State childrens society have us, she thought we would go to her mother's , and when she got out , we would come back to her.This of course was one of the worst things she could have done...sending us to our grandmother, an abusive drunk who had no problem in beating children as small as we were. Once again I am ahead of myself tho, so I will go back to our bus ride.

~GreyHound~

The first memory I have of our trip accross the country was standing outside the bus depot, in a place which was unknkown to me then, but in hindsight I now know it had to be Vegas , based on certain signs and all the lights.My big brother told me and my baby brother to stay put, tht he was going to get us some food, so I did that.He returned to us with little packets of Planters peanuts, and a bottle of coke( which back then was actually was a glass bottle). I recall seeing my very first memorable billboard, it was the Marlboro Man and to make the billboard interresting they had made it where the tip of his cig glowed, and smoke came out of it somehow.I recall thinking how big and amazing it all seemed to me, the lights, the buildings and the busy streets around me.We had come from California, and es it was a city where we lived, but for some reason in my child mind this particular place had a different feel to the place we had come from. I somehow thought the peanuts were for me, and that each of us would have a bag, but I soon learned that this one bag was to be shared out with us all. The man who drove the bus found us and guided us back onto the coach, where we once again sat in the back of the bus.You need to keep in mind these are the older style Greyhound buses, the seats back then were different to now.I recall thinking how odd it was to be on a vehicle that had it's own toilet on board, when the very place we had just lived we were sharing a communal toilet with the floor we occupied. Being little kids as we were(no older than 3 ) sitting still was a very arduous thing to do, so the toilet soon became "another room", and we would chase one another in and out of it, each time the heavy old fashioned door slamming behind us. This brings us to my second most vivid memory of this trip, "The Blood Blister", I'm not quite sure how, but one of the times weare chasing in and out of the toilet, the door catches my big brothers finger .....and it does so in such a way it formed a blood blister. This was to me a completely new and actually very facinating thing(must be the start of my complete interest in medical knowledge) . I asked him what it was when he showed it to me, and he said "it's a blood blister", being so young I then said"whats that?", and his reply was to nip off a very tiny corner of the blister and make it seep, showing me that it was indeed a blister filled with blood.I was very interrested in this whole phenomenon, and asked so many questions....eventually boring the less interrested big brother who told me to shut up about it and go to sleep! Which of course takes us to my third and final most vivid memory about this trip, I recall curling up on the bench seat of the bus, which at my tender age seemed a very large seat with tons of room. I remember being told by someone on the bus with us that the soon I got to sleep the sooner we would get t wherever it was we were headed.I recall thinking it was odd that by going to sleep you could get anywhere very fast, but if me sleeping was going to get us there, then so be it. I lay there for quite a long time wondering if our mom would be at the other side of this trip, and being excited about telling her of my adventure.I eventually drifted off.....awaking to find myself UNDER the seats, and not at the back but rather the FRONT of the bus.....this alarmed me and I was upset..as one does get upset when your little and awaken to find yourself in unfamiliar surroundings.

~To Grandmothers House We Go~

Finally we were there( wherever that was) I only knew this because my big brother said so. We lined up behind the other's getting off the bus, and proceeded forward to the door.I wasn't sure what awaited me at the other side, but it was soon before me, a lady with black hair, and the whitest skin I had ever seen.....she scared me....I was quite sure this person had to of been a witch, but my big brother told me it was our grandmother. She seemed to know right away who we were, and took charge of us as if we were supposed to know or trust her...when actually..the only person I trusted at that moment was my big brother, so since he followed her, so did I. I am not exactly sure how we got from the bus depot to her house, but what I do recall is how amazed I was at the place they had chose for us to live. Imagine the most shanty town shack , run down , tin roof, slat wood walls you could see the sunlight through, dirt yard and falling down porch, all in serious need of not only paint, but serious work. This was our new home. Once inside one room seemed to be only a slight extension of the next, and between the two main areas was a big fireplace, which I was soon to learn was our only source of heat. The only other room besides these two connected ones was a bedroom to one side with a toilet room connected.I say a toilet room, because we also soon found out the tub was a big tin bath you fill with water and bath in the yard. I always thought it was odd, the whole phenomenon of taking a bath at grandmas.....me and my 2 brothers were undressed , except our underwear, and all 3 shoved into this tub together.....evedently it saved on heating water over the fire. Grandmas back yard wasn't anymore pleasant to behold than the front, a small chicken coop, a falling down old wooden picket fence.....which I assure you hadn't been painted in ages, as the wood showing through was that greyish color wood goes over time.There were sparse patches of grass here and there, but for the most part the back yard was a mix of dirt and chicken crap. So here we were in our new home, as far from a palace as it could get, and as unwelcoming to boot.That first night there, I lay on the floor under my blankets , a brother on either side of me.....wondering what would tomorrow bring?

~Hegler Illinois~

I once again will have to go back to small flashes and patches of memory now, as the time at my grandmother's was so traumatic much of my memry has been blanked by nothingness. I assure you if I don't recall it first hand and have it as a validated memory by another source I will not post it as so.....because I of anyone am fully aware of how a childs memory can be so fogged over by the intermoxing of fantasy and reality.

~Irish Setter~

I recall a most beautiful dog, it was the reddest most silky shiny dog I had ever seen, and still to date at age 37 I must say it was a most magnificent dog to behold. It had puppies, at age 3 almost 4 these puppies were to be my first encounter with several lessons in life. I was instantly in love with these small versions of thier mother, so little thier eyes still closed.....and I thought, what a good mommy they have she stays by them always. One day it became dark, the cloudes above looked as if the wrath of God himself was about to be dealt down upon the earth. I was much too young to realize that this meant anything....weather meant very little to me at this point. I recall my big brother yelling something at me....probably along the lines of "you'd better come in or you'll get wet", but by then the skies had opened up and the rain was so loud with hail falling in places, the sounds of this storm drown out anything he could of possibly been saying to me. I know at this age I should of been scared, but I wasn't.....because my only concern was getting to the puppies out in the yard , and trying to help them to a dry place. Don't ask me how I knew they needed help.....something naturally in me led me to that conclusion. I ran over to the tree thier box was under, and saw the mother lying on her side, like she was sleeping...so I scruffed her to try and wake her to move.......but she didn't move..I took both my little hands and grabbed her side as hard as I could and shook ..but nothing.....why isn't she waking up? Can't she tell it's raining? I then turned my attention to her puppies...one was in the box.....and the others were scattered around the yard..as if thier mother had taken each one from the box and placed them around the yard....by now I was soaked and I had blood running down my face..the hail that dy was very large and shooting down like rocks from the sky.....I am sure I must of gotten nicked by one. I grabbed the one pup in the box and ran to the house.....but when I went to open the door..I found I was LOCKED OUT! Now I was scared....why did the grown ups lock me out.....don't they see these babies need help cause thier mommy won't wake up? I took the puppy to the back and placed it in the straw of a hens nest in the chicken coop, then ran back for more. I was just little myself and one pup at a time was all I could carry without dropping them. Then my next lesson in life began.....as I went to the next puppy....it lay in a deep puddle...lifeless..not crying not wriggling ..nothing..it was like my kitten that had been killed..so I went to the next puppy..and it was the same...4 more puppies and each one was dead. My little heart was shaken, tears were hidden by heavy rain drops as I pleaded outloud for the grown ups to open the door for me...but my cries fell on deaf ears. I ran to a wood pile out back as it had a small make shift roof over it.....I was about to learn my next lesson in life.....as when I placed my foot down a pain came bolting through my entire leg and I fell instantly to the ground. When I lifted my foot to inspect my "boo boo", an entire piece of wood came up with my foot..I had stepped on a plank with a nail in it.....and it was now embeded in my little foot.I tried to hop with my other leg, to get to the door and try to get in again.....but I couldn't...so I crawled in the muddly puddles of mixed dirt and chicken crap to get tot he back door, I pleaded to be let in and cried telling of my missfortune...only to once more have my pleas fall to deaf ears. I sat on the back step...well what was left of them..they too as everything else around me were in a sever state of dissrepair. I lifted my leg onto my other leg and pulled the plank off my foot......I must have been in some sort of shock by now....because it didn't hurt.....I was so cold from the rain my teeth were chattering. Finally I did the only thing left for me to do....I hobbled to the chicken coop and surled up on the dirty hay next to the only puppy left and together we both fell asleep.

Come morning I awoke to a rooster crowing...looked down at my orphaned companion to discover he too had gone to join his mother and siblings.

~Our Secret Game~

There were 2 men in my life back then that I recall the best, the first one was "Uncle", and the other one was "grandmas Boyfriend". I know thier names to this day , but for the interrest of this story we shall call them Uncle and Charlie.

Uncle had a game he used to play with me while I lived there, it was quite a simple game too, he would stand in the bathroom with me, pull out his male body part and tell me I had to "kiss it" until he said to stop. I hated this game , as it always ended the same.....he would start getting rough holding my head and shoving his parts deeper into my mouth..until finally he would "pee" in my mouth......now obviously as an adult I know he wasn't "peeing", but as a child at the age of 4, this is all i knew those parts were for, so I was quite sure that's what he was doing. Years later I would find out my big brother had one day hid under the bed next to the bathroom, and saw what was happening......so as an adult when later found family disputed "Uncle" ever being capable of such things..my big brother stood up and stated the whole story word for word as I recall it, even mentioning that he saw this happen many times.

Charlie was in my child mind a very good man, he was kind, he never yelled, and he worked at a doughnut shop, and would bring home all the unsold doughnuts. Charlie always would sit me on his knee and tell me how special I was....how I was his VERY SPECIAL GIRL. He would play a game with me..which I never thought much about being so young..... he would have me undress and he would then blindfold me..and said I had to find him with my blindfold on. He called it Marco Polo..... now the way I was to find him is listen to his voice..which would be saying things like what a pretty little girl I was and how my legs were so soft and so on and so forth...he would talk about how God had given me the most beautiful lips, which meant very little to me at that age.....till I grew up and learned that lips were what other bits are called too.When I found Charlie he would be undressed too, he said thats so it would be fair.He would sit me on his lap and tell me it was his job as the grown up to be sure I had cleaned myself properly below....so of course he would be messing around with parts of me, explaining to me how beautiful my lips were and how soft my skin was.Everytime he would say I hadn't wiped or cleaned properly, so he would stick his fingers on or in me and begin "cleaning" me. He would then say he wanted me to make him "happy" so that he could be in a good mood and make more doughnuts. At age 4 in a poverty situation doughnuts mean allot. I was then told to make him happy I needed to make his male body part grow by touching it....and he would show me how and where. This game went on for a very long time at least once a day everyday while I lived there. Something about how Charlie went about it, I never felt what he had me doing was unacceptable or bad....I of course know now....but as a child in a very bad world..he always made me feel Loved and special.....Unlike how Uncle would make me feel bad and dirty.

~Hunting Wabbits~

One day My big brother told me it was "mothers day" and that we needed to get grandma a present or she would kick us out for being bad kids. So I asked him what we could get her as we of course had no money to buy anything. He said he had heard her say she wanted a rabbit for a stew, so we should go hunt her out a rabbit. He then went to the back room and came back out with a riffle.At age 4 you don't think there is anything wrong with your 6 year old brother having a riffle, as the true impact of what a riffle is capable of doesn't cross your mind. So off we treked me , baby bro and big bro, into what seemed to us to be the great outdoors, actually it was just a big field along side the highway. We were gone for what was the better part of the day, and never once saw a single rabbit.So when I was tired of this game and baby bro seemed to be too, we hiked back home, riffle and all. So what awaited us at the other side.....GRANDMA!! She took the riffle off us, and dragged us all kicking and screaming into a back room, lined us up and beat the holy shit outta us with matchbox tracks, you know the orange plastic ones that were flexible......when she had finished telling us what evil little kids we were and how we had ruined her sorry life.....she then went and got some boiled water and made a bath in the tub...there was no cold added and in we were put to the scalding hot waters....to "Cleans us" of our dirtiness. I decided from that point on it was probably not a good idea to listen to everything my big brother suggested.

Later that night I was awakened to a loud BANG, and shot outta my covers to go see what was happenening.........grandmas hand was bleeding and to tell you the truth she was lucky her hand was still there......evedently according to what I heard her telling the police.....she had been cleaning the Shot Gun......and put her hand over the opening of the barrel to STOP the bullet she had accidentally discharged! Ummm ok yes sounds logical....it's so sane to try and stop what comes out the end of any type GUN..duhhh.