They Never Forget

By Kathleen E. Duvenary

A fictional piece that is all to real, a writing that examines the relationships between men, women, children and parents. An all too true view of the familial inner workings of manipulations that lead to abuse. True-life characters that take you on an roller-coaster of emotions.
Cheryl L. Allen, Charlotte North Carolina

"WOW! It Gets your Whole Attention, easy to read, and follow. It touches your soul realistically. A real tear getter. I love it.

Carrie Coleman, Los Angeles, California.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 29, 2009
• ISBN: 9781465316875

Book preview

Copyright © 2009 by Kathleen E. Duvenary.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in

any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without

permission in writing from the copyright owner.

All characters appearing and mentioned in this work are fictitious. Any

resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

63102

Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

DEDICATIONS

I lovingly dedicate this book to the victims of abuse, seen and unseen, known or unknown. I attribute this experience to ignorance. One cannot show love that one has never been shown.

For those of you who have overcome adversity and misfortune to conquer yourselves so beautifully, you have my undying respect and admiration. You have survived the physical, and for that I applaud you. I pray that you find the strength within yourselves to survive the mental as well.

Although the nightmares may still haunt you, remember that they are behind you. If you still find yourselves in an abusive situation, please, get help. Abuse of any kind is a tragedy and the cycle must end with us.

PROLOGUE

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As I prepared to leave the institution, I thought back on all of the things that I would someday remember fondly. I touched the smooth, white walls and savored the scents I had grown so accustomed to. Looking out of the window and past the front gate, for the last year had been my solace, I felt the strangest feeling of accomplishment. I would remember every sunrise and every sunset with a newness I could never have known before. I would recall each star in its place, memorizing each constellation, basking in the glory of its existence. The extensive grounds, lush and green, would forever hold a place in my heart. Every flower, every tree and every little blade of grass, was locked into my mental picture, frozen in time.

As I got dressed, I thought about all of the people who cared for me, and for my mother. I was finally going home. I could live with my mom again. Although it could never again be the way it was before, I knew that everything would be all right. When I finished dressing, I gathered the remainder of my things in my suitcase and rang the buzzer for the nurse. I made my bed as I had been instructed, and looked around my room one last time, trying to remember every detail. I closed my eyes and walked around the room, touching everything, trying to remember it by heart. The smell of the furniture polish, the smooth feel of the mirror, even the lace curtains hanging at the window. I would never forget it. When I opened my eyes, my nurse was coming in to escort me to the doctor’s office.

Walking down the corridors of the mental hospital, I thought, I’m finally well enough to leave. I suddenly became very sad. Where was home? What was I going home to? When I reached the doctor’s office, I felt a little numb and a little afraid. I knew what I was leaving behind, but what could I look forward to? There were so many things going through my head. What was going to happen to me now?

My doctor was a tall man, gentle and very kind. He had a generous nature. He had vague understanding of what I had been through, but I knew he could never truly share my pain. He had never experienced what I had as a child. He came from a very well-to-do family. He had lots of love and patience in his life. He was the only child born to his parents, and they both loved him. He was cultured and refined, and had been afforded every advantage to succeed. He had everything a child could ever want, and there was nothing in his past that would make him feel ashamed or degraded.

As I entered his office, he lifted his head from his paperwork and began to speak to me:

Angela, I am very proud of you. The progress you are making is nothing less than remarkable. I know you’ve been through an awful lot, but you seem so much stronger now. You seem to be more sure of yourself and less inhibited than you used to be.

As he spoke to me, looking into my face, he could feel a sense of hesitation.

What’s wrong, Angela?

Well, Dr. Avery, I guess I’m a little afraid of what’s out there. You know, what’s waiting for me. Davida’s gone. I don’t have any brothers or sisters now. I’m all alone.

He looked at me with the strangest expression on his face, as if he’d never seen me before. It was though I should never have made that statement.

Well, what’s wrong with that. I’m an only child?

Nothing, I suppose, but you were born an only child; I wasn’t.

When I said that to him, he somewhat understood my concern. We had never discussed that before. We had gone through everything else, the pain, the torture, the fear, but never the loneliness. As I got up to leave, he knew that it would never just go away, not what I had been through.

Angela, before I sign your release, would you like to talk about anything, anything at all?

At that moment, I felt lost. I wanted to walk up to him, hug him and just cry. I felt lonely, and without my sister, it was unbearable. I couldn’t let him know how I really felt; if I did he would never release me. So I lied to him, something I’ve regretted doing since then.

No, Sir, not really. Besides, you’ve heard it all before? Right?

I tried hard not to let my expression reveal the lie that had just escaped my lips.

You’re right, Angela, and besides, it’s all in the past, right?

Is it in the past Dr. Avery? Is it really in the past?

As he signed my release papers, he tried to reassure me:

You may carry these memories with you for a very long time. But no matter how real they may seem, they are only memories and they cannot harm you. Can you remember that?

Yes, Dr. Avery, I’ll remember.

As he led me down the hall toward the front door of the hospital, all the nurses and other patients came to the hall to say their last good-byes. I was so happy finally to be going home. In some ways I felt happy, but a part of me felt sad to the point of tears. I had never met these people before last year, but now they seemed like life-long friends, friends I would never forget.

When I reached the front door, Dr. Avery looked at me and sensing the anxiety building said, Would you like to do the honors?

Yes, sir, I would.

I swung the doors open and tears fell from my eyes. I was finally going home. We walked to the front gate together, hand in hand. Every step of the way I could see my mother’s face. The closer I came to her, the harder I cried. We had been separated from each other for more than a year and only had contact by telephone. We both needed to get past the pain. It was the only way we could truly be together again, completely.

When I reached her, we were both in tears. I flung