The Last Beating

by Terri
(California, USA)

My mother married 9 times, and out of the nine, only one of them sexually, physically, emotionally and spiritually assaulted me. However, 4 of them had molested and abused their own children in the past marriages. My mother's husband #3 was an addict/alcoholic and extremely abusive to my mother and my older brother.

My story, and the one and only that was ever reported to the police, was my last beating. After 45 minutes of being hit with lemon tree branches, the abuse led to inside the house, where my mother stepped in and told my stepfather, "Enough" and grabbed the branch from his hand. He then proceeded to remove his belt, and again my mother got between us. I was told to get in the tub, and my mother stated that when she saw what the beating had done to my body, from ankles to the tips of my fingers, she said she felt faint.

After my bath, my stepfather made me call my godparents and tell them I did not love them or want to come to their house anymore. He made me tell them I was a liar and I never really loved them at all, that I wanted to stay home and be with my mom and s-father. I was 11 years old. When morning came, my mother asked me if I wanted to stay home or go to school. I did not want to stay home. Upon arriving to school, I was unable to walk normally. My body was welts and bruises. My teacher noticed some of the marks and sent me to the school nurse, who then asked me what happened. Knowing I would get another beating, or even worse, be killed, or have to watch my s-father kill my mother, brother, and then kill me, I would not tell. I was sent to the principal, and again I was asked what happened. My answer was the same. I kept silent. I was taken back to the nurse where she removed my outer clothing. The next thing I knew, the police were at the school, and my mother was called. She then came to the school, and it was a consistent "run for our lives" from that point on.

Husband after husband was my journey till I was 14. I then ran away and experienced group home, after foster home and finally ended up on the streets. I became a drug addict and fully dependent on heron by the age of 16. The majority of kids who experienced keeping secrets and abuse as children, became non-functional as adults. Trying to find a cure for the emptiness I felt inside was not found through any drug. I knew I NEVER wanted any children, and I NEVER wanted to get married.

I am now 57 yrs of age and have still never married, but do have a 33 yr. old son, upon which wants nothing to do with me because I turned him over to his father when he was 11, and did not get to see him again till he was 30. My life of drugs kept me from remembering his birthdays, or even him, on a regular basis. I stayed stuffed for so many years, that I lost the one thing I never had a chance to give love to, and that was my son. I DID NOT KNOW HOW. I have been off the drugs since 2004 and have made many attempts to reunite with my son, but the blessing of this story is, I did not become an abusive mother, and even though I am not allowed to see him or my 3 grand children, which I have only met once, I know that the abusive cycle ended with me.

My stepfather burned alive in his truck when going off an overpass. But still today, I have some secrets, too afraid to tell for fear he is still out there somewhere, looking for my mother and brothers, waiting to end my life of hell, given to me by he. Thank you for letting me share the last beating.