Hear Me Cry "Betrayal of Innocence"

By Philip Ferriell

The rural atmosphere of the 1950’s Midwest provided a picture-book image of a simpler, small-town existence. Country living normally supplied a greenhouse for childhood innocence to flourish and mature, with little threat of harm. Unfortunately, one unsuspecting child in that era fell prey to the most despicable predator crawling on the earth.

Even with the pseudo security of preacher parents, and the love and protection of a much older sibling, perverse evils tainted Vivian Dean’s childhood dreams. At the tender age of five, innocence and trust cruelly vanished from her life at the hands of one sickening event, setting in motion a string of abuses lasting nearly fifteen years.

In her story, Vivian recalls the horrific intrusions from the very men who should have assured her protection: neighbors, pastors, relatives, and especially police officers. Even when the young and confused Vivian mustered the courage to report her attackers, the family she loved, trusted, and counted on for protection rebuked her "exaggerated lies."

With nowhere to turn, Vivian remained helpless to thwart the trail of predators, until at the age of 18, a neighbor cruelly abducted, drugged, and hauled her unconscious to Florida to fulfill his deviant whims. With her life seemingly worthless, and unable to thwart the abuses and attacks, Vivian spiraled into the depths of drugs and alcohol, crashing at the bottom of a suicide attempt.

The compelling true story of Vivian Dean tumbles unwillingly into the depths of Hell, where her only hope for happiness popped up in a pill or bottle, and spun her emotionally wild like a carnival ride. If not for her lingering faith in God, survival from a pathetic, additive life would‘ve been an impossibility.

Even long after rehabbing from the abuses, Vivian’s secret demons continually wrestled for control of her life, jeopardizing her nearly four-decade relationship with the one man she could trust. After years of hiding her embarrassments, the tortures of secrecy and the denials of her family threaten to pull her under its dark influence once again.

Will Vivian’s past continue to control her life and push her deeper into depression? Will a new addiction lead her down a path of self-destruction? Will anyone believe her when she confesses unbelievable truths? Will anyone love her after all the degradation she‘s endured?

...Will anyone hear her cry?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brighton Publishing LLC
• Release date: Oct 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781621833857

Philip Ferriell

Born near the end of the baby-boom era, Philip Joseph Ferriell remains a life-long Indiana resident who continually ponders the definition of “Hoosier.” Raised on a farm with three older siblings, he attended parochial school for eight years where he developed a healthy fear for women in dark clothing.His love for writing materialized in the mid 1960’s when a 6th-grade assignment involved creating a story from 20 spelling words. That unbridled freedom with the English language provided the spark that allowed his imagination to run wild.During high school, his love of basketball could only be exceeded by the number of times he got cut from the team. This consistent failure became the impetus for his first novel, “Getting in the Game,” an inspirational story of never giving up, which was first published in 2005.After a year at Purdue University, he delved into farming, and then shifted to moving boxes for UPS, where he retired as a delivery driver after nearly 32 years. During his stint at UPS, he wrote for their in-house magazine, “The Big Idea,” and garnered several reporter-of-the-year awards while creating his cartoon box character for “Bernie Bocks Makes the Team.”Ferriell ironically married the first time on his father’s birthday and got divorced on his mother’s birthday. He remains the proud father of 6 children, four daughters and two step sons. Two-thirds of his life has involved rearing children and he considers that feat the focal point of his legacy.He finally achieved greatness in the sport of basketball during the 1990’s by winning two Gus Macker tournaments with his cousin, George, and three of their friends. He also played for the Dayton Legends 50-and-older slow-pitch softball team in 2005 when they won a National Championship in Phoenix, AZ.Ferriell lives in Hagerstown, IN where he’s resided for the last 18 years and is active in his local church as the Sunday School Superintendent. He married his wife Karen in 2001, and they presently officiate high school basketball, softball and volleyball. They’re raising two young daughters together, so the refereeing skills come in just as handy at home.

Book preview

HEAR ME CRY

Betrayal of Innocence

Philip Ferriell

Brighton Publishing LLC

435 N. Harris Drive

Mesa, AZ 85203

www.BrightonPublishing.com

ISBN13: 978-1-62183-385-7

Copyright © 2015

eBook

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Cover Design: Tom Rodriguez

All rights reserved. This is a work based on a true story. The names and details have been changed to protect the individual’s privacy. Any resemblance to other characters or to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Dedication

Hear Me Cry is dedicated to Diana Ames, and to every child whose innocence vanished at the hands of a predator.

Acknowledgements

Hear Me Cry owes a debt of gratitude to Diana Ames for her tireless efforts in bringing the book to life. A special thank you goes to my wife, Karen Ferriell, for the use of her editing skills in assuring the accuracy of this book.

Chapter One

Vivian Dean made her appearance in this world the same year Disneyland opened its gates in California: August twelfth to be exact. But, unlike the amusement park created for the pleasure of children, Vivian’s future assured the opposite.

With Leo as her astrological sign, Vivian increased the population of North Wilkins, Indiana, on a muggy afternoon. The lion moniker of her month served her well, since the labor room consisted of the master bedroom, and her father played the role of attending pediatrician.

***

Daddy, Daddy! Trisha screamed excitedly while streaking out the screen door, causing it to slam viciously against the frame. Momma’s havin’ the baby!

Trisha, how many times I hafta tell ya ’bout slammin’ that door? Elvin Dean scolded, ignoring the ominous news. I fixed that door for the last time, and I ain’t doin’ it agin!

But, Daddy, Trisha pleaded in fear. Momma’s hurtin’!

Nothin’ I can do ’bout that, Elvin rationalized. It’s a natural thing.

Ya want me ta ask Mr. Burns if we can borrow his truck ta take Momma to the hospital? Trisha fished for a way to help.

No, child, Elvin rebuked as they entered the house. Heavens no! We can’t afford no hospital. That baby gits the same treatment the rest of ya got. Just git me some blankets, and I’ll tend to your ma.

Trisha took off screaming for her brothers and sisters, while Elvin rolled up his sleeves and headed for the bedroom. He could hear Bonnie groaning from down the hall.

***

Feels like number five wants his own crib. Bonnie tried joking through the familiar pains.

Is it bad? Elvin clutched her hand and stroked some hair off her face.

Terrible, Bonnie groaned. It don’t git no easier.

Is this enough, Daddy? Trisha scurried into the room with three siblings in tow—all cradling four blankets in their arms.

Good heavens, kids! Elvin and Bonnie laughed in unison. We just wanna keep the baby warm, not smother the poor thing.

Why ya wanna go an’ have another baby, Momma? Michael questioned with resentment in his voice. Don’t ya love us?

Git Daddy some warm water, Trisha, Bonnie instructed as a labor pain caused her to ignore her youngest child.

Everybody else outta here, Elvin scattered the siblings.

I’m a bit afraid, Elvin, Bonnie confessed to her husband. I don’t want nothin’ ta be wrong with this baby.

Don’t trouble yerself with those thoughts, Elvin admonished. We’re gonna have a healthy little booger.

But, after losin’ Susan and Thomas...

I said don’t think about that, Elvin interrupted. The good Lord will watch over this one for us.

After Elvin washed his hands, he attended to the delivery of his last child, including cutting the umbilical cord with his pocket knife. Trisha did her best to attend to her father, but the messiness of birth made her a bit queasy.

I ain’t never gettin’ a baby insida me, Daddy, Trisha promised.

Elvin chuckled at the thought of his daughters’ lifelong celibacy. Honey, it’s a lot more fun goin’ in than it is comin’ out.

Even though in her early teens, Trisha didn’t understand the word puzzle her father posed. As she washed off her screaming little sister, Trisha decided to stick to her vow of never giving birth. Cleaning babies after some other unfortunate woman squirted them out would be as close as she’d ever get.

Trish, yer a good sister ta little Vivian, Bonnie complimented as she gingerly grasped the newly christened Dean from Trisha’s arms.

Vivian? Elvin pondered. Don’t tell me ya named this one after an actress on a TV show.

Never you mind, Elvin. Bonnie cradled her newborn daughter and planted a kiss on her forehead. Yes, sirree, Vivian. Trisha and me are gonna take real good care of ya.

***

The baby years are often forgotten, lost in a developing mind that hungers for knowledge and advancement. Usually, if any memories linger into adulthood, they’re mostly bad.

By the time Vivian Dean approached the age of two, she lived in a new home. Moving from job to job, or wherever the wind blew, Elvin relocated his family to Lernston, Indiana, to find work. Between her mother, sister Trisha, and aunt Evelyn, Vivian never lacked for attention.

Where in tarnation did that Trisha go? Bonnie asked her sister Evelyn. I hope she’s got Vivian with her.

Hard tellin’ what that little dickens’ up to, Evelyn responded with her hands in a big mound of dough. She’s quicker than a snake.

And meaner than one, Bonnie added while skinning another potato.

Momma! Trisha squealed excitedly from the other room. You’ve gotta see Vivian! She’s ready for Sunday school!

Trisha hurriedly pushed Vivian into the kitchen to show off her latest outfit.

Did you change that poor girl’s clothes again? Evelyn asked in disbelief. How many times is that today?

Just three or four, Trisha responded innocently.

Well, you’ll have to do it one more time, cause she can’t wear that dress around here, Bonnie scolded her oldest daughter.

Doesn’t she look just like a doll, Momma? Trisha bragged.

She does look cute in that, Bonnie, Evelyn agreed.

If she gets flour on that Sunday dress on Thursday, I’ll show you cute right on your hind end girl, Bonnie lectured.

I’ll be careful, Momma, Trisha attempted to squelch her mother’s temper.

What time do we eat? Reed, the oldest boy, demanded as he entered the kitchen.

We’ll eat when it’s ready, Bonnie shot back, pointing a potato at his head, and not before.

I’m hungry, Reed whimpered.

So is everybody else, Bonnie informed. But, unless you want a raw potato and dough, then yer gonna hafta wait.

Why don’t ya help yer sister dress up Vivian again? Evelyn laughed.

No thanks. Reed flipped his hand and walked away dejectedly.

Wha’d Momma say? Michael asked his brother returning from the kitchen.

They still gotta cook the danged stuff, Reed said, disappointed.

But, I’m hungry. Michael nearly started to cry.

I am, too, Reed echoed, but cryin’ about it ain’t gonna help.

Look at Vivian, Trisha proudly showed the boys. Isn’t she pretty?

No, I think she looks stupid, Michael ridiculed.

That’s not nice to say, Trisha corrected.

It ain’t Sunday yet, Michael reiterated. She looks stupid.

Let’s go, Vivian, Trisha prodded. We’re not welcome here.

As the two girls walked by, Michael stuck out his foot, tripping Vivian and knocking her to the floor. Her head just missed the edge of a wooden chair.

Whatta ya doin’? Trisha screamed as she bent down to pick up Vivian.

It was an accident! Michael snickered.

It was not! Trisha admonished her little brother. I oughta go right out and tell Momma what ya did.

Vivian whimpered for a moment, but she never cried. She’d caught herself in time with her hands.

C’mon, Vivian, Trisha vented. Let’s get away from these nasty boys.

***

After the mass feeding of the Deans subsided, and every dish, pan, and glass got stored away, Bonnie and Evelyn finally made their appearance in the yard to join the kids. Children played outside in the 1950s—an era before computers and video games—and the Dean clan spent little time in front of a television. Television represented a luxury only available during visits to rich neighbors or relatives, so at home, they had little chance to be mesmerized.

The time neared 7:00 p.m., and even in a period prior to daylight savings time, abundant sunshine remained to be enjoyed. The temperature topped out in the mid-eighties, but the humidity posed little threat of discomfort. Not bad for the early dog days of summer, less than a week before Vivian’s birthday.

Elvin sat in his familiar rocker on the porch, entranced at whittling on a forked stick.

You wanna play kickball with the kids? Bonnie startled Elvin as she and Evelyn stepped outside.

You woke him up. Evelyn kidded and passed by to round up the children who were playing tag. Kids! C’mon over here!

You playin’ kickball? Bonnie annoyingly repeated.

Huh, Elvin stopped whittling and barely looked up.

Evelyn and I are playin’ with the children, Bonnie slowly emphasized. Are you interested?

Nah, go ahead, Elvin mumbled, Too tired.

Speaking of tired… how is work? Bonnie ventured.

Oh… so-so, Elvin said with a tinge of disappointment. I may be lookin’ for somethin’ else soon.

Well, don’t quit this job before ya find somethin’ else, Bonnie advised.

I’ll do what I wanna do, woman, Elvin grumbled and whittled off a big hunk.

It’s just groceries are gettin’ high, and we can’t afford many days without an income, Bonnie explained.

We’ll be fine, Elvin assured.