Kindle Edition
Amazon
Category:
Relationships
Publisher: Lance Knight
ISBN-10: 1523776749
Pages: 134
Copyright: Feb 7, 2015
ISBN-13: 9781523776740
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
A story of child abuse by an unwitting father.
Dramatic depictions of emotional issues in childhood that leave imprints for life.
Foreword
Please be advised that this book is written much like a diary or journal, for it is comprised of the memories and events of a seventy-two-year old man’s life.
The intent of the story is not to demean or degrade any person involved in his life. Moreover, the purpose is to expose the import of the foundational life of each child.
Parents forget sometimes that young children’s minds and emotions are a blank slate that absorbs every experience in their lives as ‘The Truth’ in the subconscious minds. Their conscious minds manifest those experiences throughout their entire lives; the memories don’t die.
The author’s fondest desire is that the forthcoming accounts benefit the reader. Partly to give hope to the victims of childhood abuse. To demonstrate that although the memories remain, however painful, they still persist; but if understood, the victim/child can use those traumatic/negative experiences to strengthen their adult lives. The adult can therefore be forewarned about not imposing that pain and angst upon their own children. In being wise with the treatment of their own progeny, parents knowingly prevent forwarding generational curses.
The author believes and advises such that parents practice unconditional love in all their relationships.
1 Corinthians 13:4-8New International Version (NIV)
Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.
Excerpt
“I lie here in my bed hoping he won’t come home tonight.”
All is quiet except for the noise of the frogs’ mating calls coming through the open windows; “Waeeeh…waeeeh…waeeeeh.” I can’t shut them out cause it’s too hot with the windows closed. It helps that the big window fan back in the kitchen blows air outward and draws a breeze in through any other open windows.
I worry about my little sister; she’s four and I’m seven. When he whips me I try to get him to keep striking me and not her. Whenever he thinks we have misbehaved in some way, as bad as I hurt from his belt or his open hand striking me, I try to take it as long as I can, just hoping he won’t do what he nearly always does; if one of us commits some grievous breach of his rules, he starts hitting the guilty party and then moves on to the ‘not guilty’… just for good measure.
So I’m wondering what he’ll do. My imagination is running away in fear. Will he come in after the lights are out? I hear him pull into the driveway; he opens and closes the car door. His long legs ascend the front steps of the house and the front door opens. I hear him walk into his and mother’s bedroom. They are talking but I can’t tell what is being said; she speaks and then there is silence; I pray… Oh Jesus, is he walking toward our bedroom? Oh no! But now he’s going to the kitchen where I hear him open a beer. Mother follows him and I hear them sit down at the kitchen table and start talking. They’re conversation is too quiet for me to understand and so I eventually fall asleep.
Sissy and I are sleeping soundly. Suddenly the glare of the bright overhead light fills the room but I am barely aware of it. My bed covers are suddenly thrown off me and the nightmare begins. I hear him growl as he hits me with his belt over and over. So I am being beaten even before I can get my eyes open and adjusted to the ceiling light. I am so afraid; I can’t understand what he is ranting about as he hits me with ever increasing anger and force.
I finally focus on his face and I hear myself pleading, “No daddy, please, no daddy, we’ll be good daddy!” I plead to no avail because his anger has turned to rage. Now Sissy is awake. We have no idea why we are being beaten awake, or why he looks so terrible with his teeth bared and his eyes so wild looking. If we cry he will tell us to stop, and if we don’t stop quickly enough… more whipping! I try not to cry so he’ll keep hitting me and not Sissy but he whips her too as I cry, “No!” He stops whipping her and says, “Now maybe you’ll behave.” Through my tears I see him turn and leave, turning out the light as he goes. Again in the darkness we remain… with only our muffled whimpering and crying.”
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