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Vindictive Brutalities
Vindictive Brutalities
Category:
Crime
Publisher: Solange DeVane/Smashwords
ISBN-10: 9780986740619
Type: Non-Fiction
Pages: 422
Copyright: November 27, 2010
ISBN-13: 9780986740619
A compelling story of seven children who suffered immensely in the paternal home. From birth until they moved away, abuse leaped endlessly at their innocent lives. The girls endured even more painful experiences caused by their professed father. The story depicts vivid events endured over years of abusive behaviour that consequently left each child with perpetual scars. A poignant story, indeed!
A compelling story of seven children who suffered immensely in the paternal home. From birth until they moved away, abuse leaped endlessly at their innocent lives. The girls endured even more painful experiences caused by their professed father. The story depicts vivid events endured over years of abusive behaviour that consequently left each child with perpetual scars. A poignant story, indeed!
Excerpt
Another painful memory that I have never forgotten was the excessive everlasting beating that mother had, in effect, utilized so savagely, while severely punishing Roland and I. Roland and I had an illuminating theory about mother’s wrist watch. We discuss the fact that if someone construct a watch with all these little parts, it can certainly be taken apart and put together again without a problem. We waited for mother to go out of the house somewhere and she had to be gone for a few hours for us to accomplish the theory that we had so to dismantle the watch. We also knew that it was very rare for mother to wear a watch. Roland and I began dismantling the watch very carefully. One by one, the pieces came out, springs everywhere, wheels of all sizes and small screws were falling all over the place, and we finally got to the hands of the watch. We were commenting how very small these pieces were, and that most came out so fast, because some parts just sprung out of the watch. It worried us to see it coming out that way, but our combined ingenuity between the two of us would surely put the watch back as it before. Oh boy, how wrong we were, we began reassembling these small parts and it became increasingly difficult to fit it all back in. It was apparent that we had to come up with a plan should mother discover the watch in shambles. Our behind was on the line. We did not suggest blaming it on anyone, but we tried to come up with a plan that would save our hide. We finished reassembling the watch, eliminating only a few small parts because we could not close it and placed the cover in the back at the same time, therefore, we hoped that we would at least hear a tick or perhaps a tock. No way would it even making a sound. Roland and I thought that mother rarely wore the watch, so we could blame it on rusting away for lack of use. On the other hand, we could just say nothing at all. Later during the week, mother was preparing to go out again, and as dumb luck would have it, she decided to go to her jewelry box and wear her watch. She tried winding the watch! Everything went haywire including the back of the watch opening up and all the parts went flying in all direction. S H E W A S F I T T O B E . T I E D ! We both heard the commotion in her room, especially the deafening profanities as she swore she would find who did this. She knew she did not have to go far, and she immediately came to Roland. Mother asked him if he was alone in taking the watch apart, and Roland was so afraid of her, he said that I was helping him putting it back together. Roland did not tell mother that I was completely implicated out of pure fear of her, but he did not want to lie to her and later someone would tell mother that I were involved also and he would suffer even more severe beatings. We were not prepared for this watch to be worn so soon, if at all, and we did not have another plan in place. Our expression on our faces was an open book. How could we deny such involvement it was much too soon to discover the broken watch without proper explanation and to lure mother in thinking that this watch had rusted away and that the disaster could not have been our fault. She beat Roland first, and I could hear the howling from each blow. Mother was rapidly moving out-of-control with profanities while she was savagely beating Roland as he was pleading for her “to please stop Mom.” The beating continued, but Roland was no longer expressing pain, and soon after, mother threw Roland out of her room as if he was a rag doll. I turned my back so not to see Roland, because I knew that I was next and that I was going to suffer the same violent abuse. I did not want to see the physical bruises and welts on Roland so that I could be brave enough to go in that room to receive the same beatings. Mother waited for a few minutes to make sure that I would be extremely frightened, waiting for what was coming to me. She played that game as part of her torture technique under her powerful taunt. Mother came out, standing in the doorframe and she said, “get in here you whore.” My legs were shaking so bad upon entering the room. Mother immediately began asking the same idiotic questions, and sure enough, I did not have time to answer when she began pounding on me like a wild beast. She had the damn yardstick in her hand and she ordered me to take my pants down so to instill maximum pain. She hit me so hard on the buttock that after a while I felt numb as she continued to hit me relentlessly, so many times, so many times. I did not dare cry or it would have been worse. Then she hit the back of my legs countless times and I could feel the welts immediately rising and burning as if I was on fire. The yardstick broke from the sheer force applied behind each blow of such rage. I kept trying to protect my legs, and my hands were getting in the way of the blows. My knees soon collapsed to the floor—she ordered me to stand up straight—I was trembling and weakening under the immense physical pain. She hit me in the face so hard that I flew on the other side of the bed, onto the floor. She stopped for a moment, and I happen to glance in the corner of the room, and I saw a piece of stove-wood that she was going to get to hit me with, as she had with Roland. I was afraid that she would use it on me also as she was running out of weapons to beat me so severely.
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