Ember Grey

Intro

Its hard to know who i really was because i wasn’t quite four years old when my mind began to fade into silence. I wanted to be perfect so somebody would care about me. I needed to do everything exactly as i was told so God would accept me. A child striving for perfection, believing i was unlovable. My heart was fooled into believing my childish thoughts, my selfish needs was the reason my step father hurt me. My heart refused the logic of my mind telling me this was wrong. Believing what he told me was imperative to me, it was part of how I coped with what was happening.

Striving to be perfect, happy, helpful, agreeable, smiling no matter how it hurt made me feel like i was good. I gained strength by humbly enduring the discipline believing it would make me clean. Working to attain God's approval gave me a purpose, it gave me self esteem. Just a little longer, eventually I would achieve my goal to be what my father and God wanted me to be. No more discipline because I'd shown i was worthy of love. I believed this was the path that led to acceptance, love and happiness, but I was wrong

You won't be tested beyond what you can bear. Why would anyone need to be hurt so much that they can barely hold on? What does that accomplish? I've hurt so much that I've pondered ways to end my life. But God doesn't approve of suicide, its a selfish act. It shows a lack of love for those who care about you. Your only thinking of yourself. I guess that means we are obligated by God to live for others. My suicide couldn't be intentional, that makes it difficult. How do you plan an accident? I doubt God would be fooled by my planning an accidental suicide. He would know I was happy to see death coming. Do you think he would hold it against me or understand my pain? I'm sure some believe they know but really who can answer that? I'm not a gambler, i guess that's why I’m still here. 

At one time i was full of life with a heart so big and trusting. I wanted to be praised and loved making people happy. I was just a naive child who was manipulated into not trusting my perceptions of right or wrong. I adopted the beliefs i was taught and my desire to be worthy of love became strong. My heart fought desperately against anything that would hinder achieving that goal, including perceiving my step fathers actions as wrong. Instead I acted on emotion. My heart shut my mind out believing it was the enemy. My mind was left in a fog of confusion and i lost the ability to fight for myself. Logic, reasoning, learning boundaries, critical thinking was in a fog and never made an impact on my actions. I was acting on my hearts desire. Lost in a cycle of desperately trying to do what was needed to prove i deserved love. Trying to become good enough that i didn't have to be disciplined in pain. 

Abuse, was the discipline to keep me righteous before God. My stepfather disciplined me for things he told me I had done, but he was lying. What I was accused of, i couldn't even remember doing. It didn't matter my heart needed to believe in him. I shut out my mind as it tried to make sense out of the lies i was being told. I accepted the guilt because i was taught and knew guilt was what i should feel for doing wrong. Guilt would make sure i never forgot and never repeated my sin. I wanted to change. I didn't want to question what i was being told. Questioning, i was taught was disrespectful to my father and Gods laws he was teaching. Lack of respect was a horrible sin, worthy of long sessions of discipline.

It was my fault. I had no right to question anything when i was the problem. I tried harder to prove I could be good but I always failed. Failure proved what my step father told me. I was no good. God hated me because i had no self control. I was dirty. I was worthless. God would kill me for being full of sin. My heart believed him. I desperately wanted the discipline so i could stop being full of sin and be worthy of Gods love. But in the quiet moments of night, as i laid awake wondering if tonight he was going to come and get me to take me to the garage, I wanted to die. But in the daytime longing for death was just another sin on my conscience to prove i deserved punishment. I became the perfect victim.

                                             Ch.2

                                          Pieces of Me

Even with my dad gone, i found ways to smile. I was a mischievous little runt! Sneaking into my brothers’ room while they were at school to get into their candy, was fun. If they noticed they’d get mad and tell on me. Nobody ever stayed upset long, so it was worth it. Mom tells stories about how I'd take off as soon as we walk into a store. She'd be distracted, turned getting a cart and hear my oldest brother R. He gives a deep sigh showing, even at the tender age of 5, he'd grown weary of my antics. He growls as he rolls his eyes "Moooom...there she goes again..." Mom would look up and see my little legs moving as fast as they could running down the isle. I'd look back and giggle as i made way to the candy. I couldn't help it. I had a sweet tooth, still do.

My brother would inform mom that she didn't spank me nearly enough. Mom would tell him, "Leave her alone. She's just a little girl and you need to be nice to her, shes your little sister." Then they'd take off to catch me. My oldest brother always complained. But he knows he loved it. I was his entertainment. I guess he was only 5 going on 6 when he started thinking i was the impulsive, free spirit that always forgot to look before i leaped, and i still am. I was too smiley and cute for anyone to stay mad at too long. Being cute and smiley has saved my rear many times.

After dad left mom had moved us to a small town where her mom was living with the family. We'd extended family and friends nearby. Many of the brothers and sisters from the new congregation we attended offered their help. It seemed too perfect. Mom was able to find a sitter to watch us while she worked overnight. It went on, quietly, like this for nearly a year and half before mom started noticing something wasn't right. I was becoming withdrawn. I'd have nightmares and became afraid of the dark. I didn't want to be alone. Finally mom was able to get me to show her what had been happening. The sitter that'd been with us for over a year was molesting me. Mom was shattered. She confronted him and he denied it. She tried to get family support but they thought she was blowing it out of proportion. She felt alone and afriad as she realized the family wouldn't fight to protect us. Mom wondered how she could protect and at the same time provide for us. The fear something more was going to happen created a desperation to find help.

Mom was introduced to Wes, a newly single brother from a nearby congregation. The brothers had such nice things to say about him that mom thought perhaps this was the answer to her prayers. It'd been over a year and a half since mom left dad, she was ready to find love again. Wes had two little girls who'd been abandoned when their mom left to become part of Satan's world. Those little girls needed a mom. It seemed this union would be good for everyone.

Mom noticed Wes reacted to minor incidents with intensity at times. He raised his hand as if to slap mom in the car just for changing the radio station. He stopped himself then made light of it and pointed out how she'd forgotten to ask. Mom felt bad for being inconsiderate and apologized. The brothers and sisters continued to encourage this seemingly perfect match between mom and Wes. Dating was brief. Lasting several months before they were engaged. The wedding day quickly followed. Arrangements were completed in weeks.

Mom was 23 as she curled my long golden hair and put me in the off white dress with tiny burgundy flowers that flowed to the floor. I matched my soon to be step sisters. We were the flowers girls in the wedding. B was quiet, at eight she was the oldest of all of us kids. She had long blond hair, oversize glasses that made it hard to see her big brown eyes. Her rosy round chubby cheeks made her smile seem so warm. S, at four was only a year older than me. She was thin, like me, but had short brown hair. Big brown eyes with long dark eyelashes made her very pretty.

I was excited as i stood behind B and S waiting my turn to walk. Finally i was told i could go. I stepped out but immediately wanted to turn around, everyone was looking at me. They were smiling and some were giggling. I timidly looked down wondering why they were laughing. But then i felt my dress tug under my shoe and i almost tripped. Realived i didn't fall, I looked up and giggled. With a big embarassed smile i walked as fast as i could to the front row to sit next to B and S. S was still very excited. We both were swinging our feet and trying not to giggle. B looked at us with the same disapproving look my big brother would give, then she forced a smile. Wes was standing with mom as the brother gave their ceremony talk. S accidentally kicked my foot and we both giggled. Wes's head turned immdiately to look at us. S smiled at him, so I smiled too. His eyes looked expressionless as he looked at me. Without a smile he turned back to mom. I turned and sheepishly smiled at S, feeling bad that we got in trouble. She shrugged and grinned. I was so happy.

Wes seemed to have me in his sight for the rest of the ceremony. His face stayed like stone even as i tried smiling at him. Then he'd sharply looked back at mom. I'd look at S, she'd smile and shrug her shoulders again but we both knew he wasn't looking at her. I felt a knot in my stomach and wondered what i was doing wrong to make him upset. By the end of the ceremony my stomach was sick and my head was hurting. Standing up made me feel better as we prepared to walk back down the isle. S grabbed my hand and we giggled as we followed the wedding party to the back.

Mom gathered all five of us for pictures and then off to the  reception. The brothers and sisters smiled as they congratulating mom and Wes. It was the first time i'd seen Wes's eyes sparkle. He smiled and laughed as he thanked everyone. But then he'd catch my eye and it seemed his eyes turned to rock but his smiled stayed the same. He'd look at the guest so warmly then back at me and turn cold but the smile never left his face. My stomach felt sick when I'd see him watching me. I just wanted to make him happy so I sat down and tried to be good so i didn't get in trouble. I wasn't there long before i felt someone behind me put a hand on my shoulder and squeeze with enough pressure it hurt. I winced as i looked up. Wes was staring at me expressionless then a smiled crossed his face as he asked "Are you being good?" I felt a burst of warmth go through me and my feet started wiggling as he smiled. He liked me. I smiled so big and exuberantly shook my head yes. He said, "Good" and squeezed my shoulder. Again, it hurt, but quickly forgotten as i was so happy to have a daddy.

We moved into Wes's home. Mom started working during the day while Wes continued his night job at the trucking company. Wes was a big strong man. He'd been working on the dock loading and unloading semi-trucks so long he could lift a refrigerator by himself.

We all started the adjustment to new family, home and schools. R and our step sister B were close in age and went to 1st grade together. C was just a year behind them in Kindergarden and S was in Pre-K, a year behind C. Being to young for school i stayed with mom as she got everyone ready. We'd walk them to the bus stop then go do chores around the house. She'd pull a chair to the sink for me to stand on as she washed the dishes and hand them to me to dry. Sometimes we'd sing Puff the Magic Dragon or The Tide is High by Blondie, we'd roll our hands when she sang im rolling on and put a finger in the air for being number one. The mornings were fun. I talked and talked and talked. Everyone else got mad at me for talking so much but mom asked questions. I'd ask her about everything and it never seemed to bother her.

Over time mom started to change. She didn't talk or ask me questions. When i asked her questions it took a long time for her to respond. Sometimes she'd didn't even realize i'd ask her a question. She'd stare out the window as she washed the dishes and hand them over to dry. She always looked mad or sad, i couldn't tell but she always had line in between her eyebrows as she stared out the window. She didn't want to sing with me anymore. She'd try but she would trail off and get quiet. Sometimes I thought she was talking to me but she wasn't. I don't know who she was talking to but i'd try to get her attention by tugging on her shirt. She didn't respond so I'd tug on her again, "Mommy". She still didn't respond so I'd tug harder and louder say "Mommy!" She'd scowl as she looked at me "What?" I'd smile "Can we sing a song?"  "No, not now! Just be quiet for a minute, please." She'd go back to washing dishes but it wasn't long before she was staring out the window. I'd stared out the window to and wonder what she was looking at.

Our silence would be broken by the car pulling into the garage. Mom began a frenzied rush to finish the dishes. Moving me out of the way without a word as she frantically finished wiping down counter tops. I to began a frenzied rush to get off the chair and ran as fast as i could down the hallway into my room. I saw my ducky blanket as i heard the door open from the garage. I grabbed it and crawled in to my closet. I could hear voices from the kitchen as I quietly closed the closet door and cover myself with my blanket. "Maybe he won't find me today" I'd think to myself.

Wes was talking. His voice was mild as he began asking mom questions. I heard the keys hit together as they were set down. Mom answered his questions quietly but quickly. I could here the dishes clattering as they were put away. Then Wes's voice scolding mom for being so careless with the dishes. I heard her apologize. Then him telling her how sometimes he couldnt believe how irresponsible she was. Again she apologized, then "I need to get going or i will be late to work." This is when i started to feel a tightness in my chest. I hear the keys rattle again and the door going out to the garage opened. I hear mumbles back and forth then the door closes. Silence.The station wagon starts up. I listen as it pulls out and then fades into the silence of our house.

She's gone. My chest hurts so bad, it feels like i cant breath. The house is silent. I almost wonder if im safe. I start to relax and feel my eyes becoming so heavy that i lay my head down on the closet floor, immediately i'm asleep. Shortly awakened by footsteps. My heart starts to thump. Through the crack in the door i see his feet standing in the hallway outside my room. I bury my head under my ducky blanket so he wont see me. My hearts beating so loud its all can hear. After a few minutes of seemingly silence i peek out and freeze. His feet are right next to my closet door. I try not to move, try not to breath. My hearts so loud in my ears, I wonder if he can hear it. He stands there without a word for what seems like forever. Again i feel my eyelids get so heavy i can't stop myself from falling asleep. Awaken by hearing him saying my name. "B, sweety, come out of the closet honey. Daddy wants to talk to you." I stay quiet but feel guilt for not obeying. Something inside won't let me move, all i hear in my head is "no". But i need to get up. Wes says again but hes becoming angry, "B, you need to get out of the closet right now!" Still frozen i can't move but part of me wants to. I feel so much guilt for not doing as im told. At the same time i feel like a trapped animal with no way to escape. The door to the closet opens. I peek out from under my blanket, his feet are right next to me. He laughs. His voice gets soft and tender, B, get up. Im not going to hurt you. Why do you always hide from me? He laughs again. B, dont know when you hide you show me that you have something to hide. B, get up honey and tell me it iis that you did wrong. I just want to help you so God loves you. I know you feel guilty for not being good like God wants." I did feel guilty. I didnt mean to be bad. I don't know why i couldn't get up. I sit up and Wes puts his hand out to help me stand up. I feel better as i stand up and see everything is ok and i'm doing whats right. Wes smiles at me and he sits down on my bed. "Come here B." I walk over to him. Why were you hiding? My mind is blank because i was ignoring the thoughts of him counting out the 75 swats he gives. I was ignoring remembering him taking a belt and using it to tie me to my bed for my afternoon nap to make sure i didnt touch myself, to keep me clean. I was ignoring the times he cleaned my mouth with bleach for getting sick.  I was ignoring the memories of him walking towards me with a closed belt so it made a circle and he'd snap the sides together as he grinned. I never can remember what happened after that but all these things and the terror they brought were pushed away. I stood there stareing blankly, my mouth open. Daaaaaa is the best way to describe it. He started questioning me. He asked if i felt guilty. I said yes i did. He said tell me what you did. I tried to speak but my mouth was so dry nothing came out. I tried to swallow, after a few tries i could speak. I started to say "i was in the closet" but all that came out was I, I, I......he told me to calm down and tell him what id done. I tried again, "I, I, I was on the floor and you t t t told me to come out." He said yes, you were hiding because you did something bad. What did you do that made you want to hide? i started again" I, I, I was in the closet and i, i, i felt guilty. He said "i know, what did you do?

 I blankly stared at him. My heart longing for him to tell me what he knew that i didn't. No thought in my head because my emotions owned me. My heart completely blocked out the part of me that realized what was happening. No idea why my chest would slowly start trembeling, then it would spread throughout my entire body until my teeth were chattering as my jaw slowly trembeled. Nothing made sense but my heart didn't realize this. Emotions clouded my reality and eventually left a fog so thick I couldn't hear the screaming of my head "No! You can't do this, I hid because i was afriad of you! I felt guilty when i didn't come when you told me. I didn't do anything else. You cant do this to me. Please don't do this to me." but left ignored, unheard and unused like any muscle in the body my mind grew weaker everyday.

Emotions aren't logical, they don't see reality. Emotions alone, walk the same path as anyone lost without a guide or compus to help them recogonize what path leads to safety. A heart that has become seperated from its guide, its mind walks in circle. The longer it stays on this path the more entrenched the path gets. Even if this path is leading to pain or emotional death you can't see it.

To my heart, my mind was the reason I was a bad person. My emotions refused to give its motivating energy to the thoughts in my head. i couldn't act on my thoughts because my heart was giving my emotional energy to follow the path Wes was teaching me was correct. So, i stood blankly stareing at him. My head pounding with a headache. The daze i was in almost left me unable to balance myself. My mouth hanging open, so dry it was hot. I stared only brought out of my near sleep stand when i'd feel my eyes blink or catch myself before i fell over. Even though i wasn't comprehending what Wes was saying, he continued to question me. When he wanted me to agree, he'd tell me to shake my head and i would. Eventually he'd get up, pick up the belt he'd brought with him and have me bend over and touch my toes as he counted out the swats to 75. i was 3 years old.

I'm sorry to say, i don't remember beyond this point. I don't know why i remember this day so well. I think this was the last time my mind was close enough to my heart they still connected. I do remember some things about this time in my life. I don't have any feelings with these memories, just very matter of fact feeling about them. I never cried, my legs were typical black from bottom to calves. 75 swats for the things he didnt see but knew we did. he'd put bells on my brothers toes so if they were masterbating he would know and go with a belt to beat them. He tied up a noose in the garage and had it around my brothers necks as they were standing on chairs, he told them to jump because God was going to kill them anyway.  he was obsessed with anything sexual. I couldnt hug him without getting beat for being sexual with him. Its hard to remember because most my memories from this time are brief then fade into blackness.

XXXX

I remember  it seemed like my day began when I was awakened by everyone getting home from school. I would come to slowly come. Waking up was so hard to do. I'd feel so out of it and barely had the strength to move. As I got up, I was in a daze. I'd have to stop as I stood because I'd feel myself swaying as I’d try to get my balance. I'd start to move toward the voices I heard. My eyes were still barely open and I'd accidentally walk into the wall. I'd try to shake myself out of it and get beyond the overwhelming blankness. It was like a fog that had to clear before I could start perceiving the thoughts entering my head. As I'd start to come to I'd hear what people were saying to me. Slowly I'd begin to understand their words and respond.

We didn’t live far from Wes's family, and he helped his mom with keeping up a rental property next to their home. Even though mom never remembers any reason why we would have been in this house, I have many flashes of memories in rooms of the house. One in particular was the room with the yellow walls. Still to this day, the color yellow has a profound effect on me. It can make me sick to my stomach and the afternoon sunlight in extreme will nearly force me to sleep.

I remember counting dust particles floating in the bright yellow sunlight. The room was a little bit too warm and so bright that every time I looked up I had to squint because the sun was in my eyes. My head was swimming in confusion. I could see Wes down at the end of the bed I’m lying on. My feet were dangling over the edge as he sat between my legs that were spread open. I kind of understood what’s going on, I've been here before although I don’t have a memory of it, it’s familiar to me. Everything’s so foggy and my mouth was so dry that my lips wouldn’t even close. My eyelids kept falling over my eyes but Wes wouldn’t let me close them. I tried to keep them open at least one at a time if not both. In my head everything was so quiet that it felt like I could hear my chest moving when I breathed.

A sharp pain brought me back to look at Wes. He had something in his hand, it looks like a butter knife but its whole side is sharp. He's scraping me with it. I could feel some sharp pains, then dull pains coming from my insides. I could barely hear his voice as he told me that the private area was the place where sin began. He wanted me to be clean; he wanted to deaden my body member of bad desires. I'm felt so tired I couldn't keep my eyelids from closing. He stood up and forced them open and said something I couldn’t understand. He sat back down and continued talking but my head had this sound, so loud, like a freight train running through it. I couldn’t hear his words. I could hardly see him. It seemed like he was coming in and out of focus as I'm watching him pour something into the little bowl he had next to him. He dips a washcloth into the bowl. He begins to apply this to the areas that he has been preparing to be cleaned. The walls, his head, the ceiling, the window, the sun and the dust particles all started moving, blending together into one as the room began to spin. Then I couldn’t see anything, it was all dark. The darkness is followed by a silence in my head then there was just nothing. I wasn't quite four years old.

We looked like the perfect little family. Mom was very pretty; she had long red hair and big green eyes. She had fair skin and freckles from all the Irish blood. Wes was a handsome, tall and dark man. He had brown hair man with a strong build. He boasted that he could move a refrigerator by himself and did so regularly while lifting kitchen appliances to and from the trucks at the loading docks where he worked. All of us kids were very well behaved. At least we tried to be and we didn't dare do anything without the consent of either mom or Wes. It was hard to feel comfortable or relax when we were out. If you swung your feet or made any noise at all Wes would grab you by the ear and twist it until tears welled up in your eyes as he stared at you and told you to stop. I was completely unaware of this as a child but I have found out I had Attention Deficit Disorder, not with hyperactivity but just the effect that it's hard for me to remember things I have just been told. It’s kind of like once something else distracts me, what has just been said is gone, vanishes out of my head. I remember many times being yanked up by one arm. I had no idea what I’d done. Until I realized I was doing what he'd just told me not to do. Something like wiggling my feet, humming to myself, moving my hands or fidgeting in the way children with this disorder do to try to calm the chaos in their head. I was always truly shocked when he would grab me; I had no intention of being bad.

It was hard to understand how things could seem so normal at times. We would visit other families with children. My oldest brother would play chess with their daughter and we would play outside with their children. Wes was so nice and playful. At times he would pick me up and put me on his shoulders and laugh. I was always a little bit scared when he would do this because he was so tall and he moved fast with jerky movements, it felt like I was going to fall but I never said anything. I just wanted that side of him to stay forever.

I'd focus on the good times, like when we were in a grocery store and we saw a big new machine that you could play a game on. Wes called all of us over to watch him try it. He put money in the machine and the noises started up. It was so exciting watching as he played, he told us the game was called PAC MAN. He was laughing as he played. He picked each of us up one by one to let us gently touch and watch the game. It was times like this that seemed almost normal. You could almost forget about all the bruises. The bad times never seemed to stay in my memory once they were over, anyway. I'm not sure if that’s the Attention Deficit or just disassociation but it was almost like nothing had ever happened.

The good times were always quickly disrupted by some great sin someone was doing. Every bad behavior was dealt with as a great sin. My brother C was wiry and energetic. I've always wondered if he had Attention Deficit with the hyperactivity because thinking back he seemed to have no impulse control. I remember feeling so bad for him at times because he was always in trouble. Wes would make him stand in the corner for an entire day at times. Wes made C and I stand in the corner very often, I actually peed myself once because I wasn't allowed to get out for so long. I think he picked on us because we were the ones that had the hardest time keeping still, he viewed our being fidgety or anything he didn’t like as a direct defiance of him.

C was in Kindergarten when Wes came into our lives. He had the typical little boy sense of humor with very little ability to think before he acted. Wes had no tolerance for this behavior. Once we were by the fire in the living room drinking hot coca mom had made and Wes threw C nearly four feet high against the wall. C slid down to the floor, barely breathing. It had knocked the wind out of him. I don’t know if it was fear, shock or pain but he couldn't even cry. To Wes this was appropriate discipline for saying the word fart.

We rarely saw our dad even when Wes would drive the two to three hours to his house to get the child support check. We would all be packed in the car as dad would open his front door. You'd see him handing something to Wes, then he'd wave from the porch. We all sat in the car and watched as the door would close and Wes walking back to the car. I remember longing for a hug, but quickly dismissing my feelings and thinking about real life. Wes getting back in the car, being quiet, and trying not to look sad made the longing for my dad’s hug disappear and left only a lump in my throat, tears in my eyes and the weight of the world on my 4 year old shoulders as I desperately began trying to get myself back to happy, quickly. I had to make sure nobody noticed me, being weak and about to cry. I would look out the window and force a smile on my face. I couldn't talk yet, the lump in my throat was still too big and my voice would crack. I tried not to breath too hard or at all, as I was afraid it would be just loud enough that Wes would here my hurt. I'd cough when I couldn't hold it in any longer. I'd see Wes glance at me in the rear view mirror, his eyes glued on me for a minute. I'd open my eyes big and smile so bright that he'd look back at the road. The happiness of knowing I'd pulled it off, I hadn’t got caught in pain was enough that I felt my lump slipping away. I felt my tears drying up and I'd look at everyone else and forget all about my father waving from the porch.