For 16 years I’ve longed to put a stop to inhuman treatment at the hands of grown-ups who should have known better under the guise of a caring spirit. If you are wondering how it feels to be sexually molested, forced to live a life of prostitution, abused and misused then you need to comntinue hearing my story. Obedience, ignorance and fear are strange bedfellows that allowed brazen acts of disregard to color my young world black, blue and with other hues of humility -- all because I became a living horror story residing in a house of ill-repute. My story is no less daunting, if not dangling with the need for someone to hoist me up and secure my sensibilities to do the right things, and for the perpetrators to cease and desist. It’s not easy having been the ward of a state with no ulterior plans to help orphans who are bereft of parental security. But then again, how can one rebel against relatives who took you in, which to the public was a grand idea, but to me it was the beginning of a horrific ride with many twists, turns and turbulences. My familial life before the crisis was being part of a loving happy family, which included my brothers and parents. I have two brothers, George and Ivan who adored their baby sister. My parents were happy with their life together and I always seemed to have what I wanted. Yep! It was one big happy family. My biological father was a man of means and a devoted family-oriented person who believed in strong familial ties with the American dream firmly in place. He wanted a wife that adhered to the depiction of a woman that God envisioned, much like that of the Virtuous Woman in the bible. They married and eventually bore an only child -- me, until the boys c ame along.
My biological father was a strong father figure and provided abundantly for the welfare of our family. Mister Harry Williams felt it a no-brainer to be much more than the breadwinner, and be dominion accordingly because God said so! The Kingdom Man concept he embraced early, because he always believed in strong family ties with the American dream firmly in place. He wanted a wife that adhered to the depiction of a woman that God envisioned. He felt he had that in Janice Hale. She was winsome and had a personality that he felt was more outgoing to his casual approach to life. My mother, Janice Williams-Stevenson, was vivacious and possessed much more than the stereotypical mother who nurtured and nourished her children, and was a great helpmate for her husband. Back then life was grand as far as I could ascertain, even at kindergarten. My father lavished my mother and myself with all the amenities of wealth and opulence -- cost wasn’t an issue, nor was having what he felt was necessary to give his family the best of everything. I remember times when dad would take us on family trips and visits to the parks and zoos as I loved animals and the zest for life. I shared that with my dad, but things took a drastic change real soon, though. My father got sick and finally succumbed to prostate cancer. My mother was devastated and withdrew into a shell. For several years after that, she experienced bouts of depression and struggled mightily with loneliness and depression. Looking back, I wished at times she would have been more vociferous dealing with the changes we experienced, but hey, she meant well in her own way and my love didn''t diminish at all. Moreover, she would think nothing of proving that the virtuous woman spoken so highly of in the Bible I mentioned earlier possessed all of what I saw much as a caricature of her old self. Then one day out of the blue, and a surprise to all of us, Janice did the inevitable. She met a man and got married again! Was it abjack lonliness, a need for companionship? The life we were accustomed to gradually receded and forced us into just surviving -- all of this in a space of five years! How did we fall so far, I would ask? To answer that question you’d have to know that time has a way of being constant before you realize that it waits for no one. We lived off of what dad left, and eventually we had to face reality and survive the best way possible. The new husband was welcomed with outstretched arms from hell, and he came with baggage and such an evil spirit. Mom was ecstatic and didn’t have a clue. I’m sure she was expecting the type of husband as my father had been. It was deceivingly good at the onset but as time progressed so did our problems. How did it affect me? A lot, and it hurt. It was a unique and classic case of a good life full of expectation to suddenly go south without anything to compare what we were accustomed to. Instead, we were used beyond what was considered normal; it was a contradiction and consternation, bar none. This man was nothing like the father I grew up adoring. It was to be no more early morning breakfast talk, dialogue after dinner, Bible studies, and late night bedtime stories. There was no comparison. Ultimately, the ‘evil one’ as I called him, unfortunately became my stepdad in name only. He was the worst dog of them all -- a sorry excuse for a man. Ruthless and mean, he literally took candy from a baby -- my virginity, and along with it my pride and dignity. He created a more profitable candy store at my expense. Yet, I learned and tolerated Mr. Stevenson’s lavish praise on the rest of my family, and it ultimately caused me dearly. The ransom in the end justifies the means to change, but the showering of gifts to me, even when I felt it was excessive, unnecessary and definitely wrong was a price too costly for me to negotiate means of escape.
Despite the fact that my mother had remarried, it was nothing compared to the life that we were used to before my father’s untimely death as I previously mentioned. Mr. Stevenson was definitely from different stock...we lived modestly in a lower middle class state in southern Texas, and sometimes ends wouldn’t meet, and the former good times were fleeting, if not famishing. At first I thought John Stevenson was an ordinary man willing to do what was necessary to make our life better. His manner and demeanor suggested perhaps someone who could be a helpmate to mom. Boy was I wrong! After all, mother seemed to like him and it dawned on her as well before I saw light at the end of a long tunnel. She needed a man. I saw this, and It was evident earlier how mother would mope around feeling sorry for herself missing my dad everyday when things didn’t materialize as fast as she expected. Nevertheless, when Mr. Stevenson started coming around; she perked up and the change was immediate and noticeable. He took advantage of the lack of resources and began to provide undercover terms of endearment, and other perks that gained him favor. He knew what he was doing and did it coated with sugar, spice and everything nice. Little did I know then that all of his ‘kindness’ was part of a plan.
It’s amazing how time and the timing of catastrophe can just mess up the balance and structure of your diaspora. Although I’m older and have elicited decisions to right quite a few of my wrongs, the main thing that has driven me is the wherewithal to make a difference so that no other young girls would be subjected to any kind of physical or sexual abuse I experienced. It long ago got to a point where I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked away from my family, albeit temporarily, but with the mindset of coming back around as soon as I felt vindicated and redeemed. There’s something about redemption that has driven me over the years. I’m enjoying my new role. As I matured God decided to step in ordering me new steps. Those steps to Christ, as they are now are my guiding light. He didn’t want me to continue the lifestyle that I’d become to know, so He gave me perfect vision; before I knew it, I started praying more and talking to God in my solitary moments. Sunrises and sunsets became models of serenity that solidified my resolve to cry out for help and let the world know that abused women do have alternatives. And if it was the last straw for me to pick, I would pick it and break the camel’s back like never before. There HAS got to be a way for God to intervene and show mercy! Wait a minute...how ungrateful I was to think that He wouldn’t have saved me anew under those dire circumstances I transited from? Am I not one of His children? He planted the seed within me in the first place to persevere against all odds. I plan to make it because of, and despite my stepfather, his brothers, sister and his father who ruined my life back then. They will surely pay for this, and my getting away was the catalyst bringing about change. Yes, the challenge was real then it is now for exposure. The good fortune of me escaping was predestined and a sign of Providence facilitating Grace. There’s more to this story, and it’s a helluva one to be telling. It’s a long one worth telling simply because somebody has GOT to hear what I have to say…are you still with me? Nevertheless, the time is now, and I’m ready for a different me manifesting a new lease on life. I will unveil this mask I’ve been wearing for so long and not allow forbidden love to keep me from doing what’s right!
Around the time I reached the age of 14 I felt sudden changes in overall appearance, and even at that age I was aware of how it affected other men I eventually came to be around, and ultimately served. My body was filling out. A year earlier I experienced my menstrual cycle for the very first time and went from a training bra to a real one to hold my firm developing breasts. Would things be different? I had no idea, but if it wasn''t for me being an avid reader, I found out all the details and more on my own! Believe me, coupled with my extensive reading, my inquisitive nature, including my books, those later escapades really educated me to the point where I knew the private parts of both men and women and knew the functions thereof. By this time too, the Stevenson house of ill-repute was really flourishing, and my body had changed along with it. My chest began to fill out and I became self-conscious of the fact that mine was way bigger and firmer than any of my friends’. My hips had become more rounded as well as my legs. That was because Jim, and his brother John would always say that when I became grown I would have the type of body that would have men drooling and with hard-ons that wouldn’t wait. My breasts, he said, should produce the best milk for my babies and the nipples would stand free and proud as they are fondled…and he would touch them, and even suck on them whenever he felt the need. There were many times when he introduced me to sexual positions to enhance pleasure. He rubbed me caressingly with soothing touches and numerous kisses full on my lips. My breasts became suckling objects that made my nipples supple and soothing to his touch. Every time he did this I put my hands in my crotch only to bring them up wet as hell! He introduced me to his penis in every way imaginable. How to satisfy a man? I learned that too. For a young girl of my age between 13-17, I got early lessons on sensuality and how pleasurable petting could be. I had no problems accepting the gifts, money and other privileges as long as I gave in to Mr. Stevenson’s probing fingers and groping hands. It never dawned on me what wojuld happenf he found out I was stashing. It would be put to good use later, for sure. All of this was done under my mothers’ nose and within the household without anyone suspecting what was going on. Again, it was always that great tingling sensation that kept me from protesting, kept me from spilling the beans.
He said that he would stop giving me the dollars that he knew I craved if I didn’t comply and as long as his brother John didn’t know. I was competition among them which would be more pleasing. I remember too, saving up as much as $300.00 from the undercover money I earned! That money was always used to help out the family in many different ways. The boys were always needy. To me at that age, it was a goldmine and easy money. Never in my short life would I normally see that much money without having been growing up so fast. Both John, his wife Margie, and Jim had carte blanche in evoking bold gestures because by now they were my legal guardians having already taken care of the legal paperwork after Janice passed. Much later on I was rudely introduced to another ‘game’ and as time progressed pulling me in a state of perpetual limbo. Limbo because I was trapped and couldn’t reverse the chain of events nor the direction my life had taken. In the back of my mind at that point I knew more of the same was forthcoming, but had to wait to see what would unfold.
