The Black Out

I was about 7 years old. I had just skipped 2nd grade. I got to leave the "little kid" school and adjust to being a 3rd grader at a much larger school. With alot of bigger kids. I went from a school that had just grades K-2nd, to a school that was from grades 3rd-8th. It was a scary transition. But I was happy and felt like I was the smartest kid ever. That all changed once i settled in. The bigger girls always made fun of me in the bathrooms because of my clothes. We were quite poor. My fathers idea of dressing me up for picture day was putting me in one of his over sized white t-shirts and wrapping a belt around my waist and calling it a dress. so what started as a very exciting adventure into a new school turned into another place i was scared to go. The other place i feared going was home. My father and his girlfriend were crack heads. My father wasn't around much. My "step-mom" was pure evil. One specific scenario is one that is hard for me to forgive and let go.

My little brother was in kindergarten. I had to walk to his school (my old "little kid" school) after school to pick him up and walk home. It was cold. Snowy. We got to the house. Our apartment was upstairs. We walked up and the door was locked. So we knocked and knocked and knocked and no one answered. So there we were, sitting in a freezing hallway on the stairs locked out. My downstairs neighbor had walked in with her 2 kids. The girl was around my age and the boy was about 4. She asked if we were ok and i explained the situation to her and she invited us in. Just being a good neighbor in hope that someone would keep her kids warm if they were ever in the same situation. We kept waiting for our step mom and younger siblings to get home. we would hear them come into the hallway in the back and front. Finally the nice neighbor just set up 2 extra spots for us to have dinner at. As we were sitting there we heard kids in the back hallway and we figured they must have gotten home. It was about 6 o'clock. When we opened the back door we seen the kids there and they were in pajamas and said Mom wants you. So my step mom came down furious. Not only at us but also the neighbor. Our neighbor was in shock because she was just trying to help and knew that no one answered the door. My step mom screamed at her to mind her own buisness and pushed us up the stairs. I knew what was coming. As soon as my shoes and coat were off she ran at me. Smashing my face with her cold boney hands. She was hurting me so bad. I was screaming and crying. She rolled me over onto my stomach and pulled my arms behind my back and sat on them. She grabbed my hair pulling my head backwards and put her hand over my mouth and nose. After the beating it was already hard enough to breath. I fought and fought. But I just couldnt move my small body enough. I felt like I was dying. And at that point I almost wanted to die. Id be better off. No one loved me anyways. How sad is that for a 7 year old to be thinking? My body stopped moving, then everything went black. When I woke up my step mom was sitting on the couch, smoking her cigarette and drinking her ice water. I thought I was dead. I didnt think she seen me. Until she screamed at me to get in my room. I didnt make it out that easy.

When I was in my room I sat on my bed crying and shaking. Then I heard a voice come from inside my room. It was the voice of the girl downstairs. She was calling my name. It was coming from my heater vent. She was asking me if I was okay. She told me her mother and her could hear everything. She said if I needed help she would get it for me. I told her I was fine and that I shouldn't have been bad. My poor neighbors. They thought they were doing the right thing and helping and now they felt like this was all there fault. But it was no ones fault but my own. My step mom hated me, therefore it was my fault.
Exxotiica Exxotiica
26-30, F
2 Responses May 5, 2012

Do you know now that none of it was your fault? Are you getting any therapy, Honey?

Um...you do of course know by this point that she was an evil psycho crackhead and nothing she did was your fault?<br />
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Yanno, I've really started to ask this as a social question....why is it people who beat up their kids almost NEVER get charged? <br />
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The kids end up in the foster system...but the perps almost never get charged with a crime unless they actually put the kid in the hospital...and for a while at that...or in the morgue.<br />
If you beat up your kid you ought to get charged with assault and battery. Just sayin'.<br />
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If I were that neighbor, I would have called CPS and pressed charges on your mom...Admittedly I'd prolly have to move after that to get away from the psycho crackhead neighbor... But I find not doing the right thing makes me feel awful afterward.

The foster system itself is corrupt. I was just another case load to them. Of all the foster homes I was in, i was physically abused in almost all of them. But as a young child you fear betraying an adult. So you keep your mouth shut. Especially when you fear whats to come when you get home.

That's what I am given to understand-the foster care system sucks and kids are likely to be re-abused in it. P*sses me off.

"... as a young child you fear betraying an adult." When I was a kid, I didn't fear betraying an adult, I feared being betrayed by them—I didn't trust them; I knew that they would tell my mom what I said, and that I'd be in trouble.