Between a Rock and a Hard Place

By Vanessa Cane

In retrospect of my journey, I’ve come a long way, to stop now. Quitting life has never been an option for me. My survival and the survival of my siblings meant everything. Despite what we had to endure, we made it through. All together and in one piece. Our parents grew up and so did we. We all know Jehovah God now.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 22, 2020
• ISBN: 9781664149779

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Copyright © 2021 by Vanessa Cane.

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.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 12/22/2020

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1 WHY ME, BUT NOT ALONE

Chapter 2 SUMMER WITH THE BOYZ

Chapter 3 IS IT PAY BACK?

Chapter 4 NEW LIFE AND MISSING YOU

Chapter 5 HOPEFULL

Chapter 6 FIGHTING BACK AND HOME AT LAST

Chapter 7 ANOTHER CHANCE

Chapter 8 CALIFORNIA BOUND

Chapter 9 LIFE IN THE FAST LANE

Chapter 10 BACK IN THE SADDLE

Chapter 11 THE FAMILY LIFE

Chapter 12 RELOCATION AGAIN

Chapter 13 CHANGE IS COMING

Chapter 14 THE RETURN

I grew up in Ohio with all my siblings, whom I dedicated myself to taking care of them until they could take care of themselves or I moved out. Which ever came first. Life as a child was very daunting and severe, because of the way we were forced to live.

Not believing in a god did not help me. It was an experience that I would never forget. As I grew older and was able to get a job through school. That literally saved me life. I was able to save some money and was able to move. So after graduating high school, I was on my way. During the school year I found the second love of my life.

When things were good, we got married, had a baby and then he was killed.

Life was over, so I thought. It was me and my baby. As life went on. It began to change so much and so fast. Not always for the good, but my survival mode kicked in yet another time. I had to learn very quickly how to exercise a strength I did not even know I had. I learned to confide in others. I had to learn to lean on others, when, if only I had learned to lean on Jehovah God, whom I did not know at all. This journey that I have been traveling has been something to talk about with others. So, I took an interest in sharing my story. I only pray that someone will take from it what helps them to overcome fears that hold us back and survive through the challenging times. Learn to benefit yourself and others.

Most of all love yourself. It all starts there.

In retrospect of my journey, I have come a long way, to stop now. Quitting life has never been an option for me. My survival and the survival of my siblings meant everything. Despite what we had to endure, we made it through. All together and in one piece. Our parents grew up and so, did we. We all know Jehovah God now.

Dedicated in loving memory of my only son

Whose words of encouragement inspired me to

Share my story with the world in hopes of survival and the desire to keep living.

For everyone who wants to survive.

Dear Reader,

Have you ever been so low, so depressed and discouraged that you really wondered, is there? really a God and if so where is he hiding? Why is he letting people be so wicked and why does he allowed them to destroy other people just because they want to. Why does he allow death, sickness, child molesters and murder of innocent people, babies and older people happen? We all have a lot of questions that really need answers. When I was a child, I did not believe that there was a God, because of all the wickedness he allowed to happen to me and my siblings¹ as children. So, I learned as a child to exist between a rock and a hard place, despite my situation.

CHAPTER 1

WHY ME, BUT NOT ALONE

There were people in my life that God let them oversee my life. They are supposed to be my parents, but to me they were like super evil to us. My life seemed like that of an existence in a prison. They were the meanest parents I have ever known. I have never been in jail at that age, but they just fit the bill. I did not even want to call them my parents, or mom or dad. From what I watched on television, they were nothing like a real mom or dad. I and my siblings were always being beat by one of them for something all the time for some reason or another. I never understood what would tick them off so bad that they had to beat us for it, but that was my existence for quite some time. Finally, one day he said to me, you look just like that stank ass bitch. I cannot stand you. Now I know why he hated me so much and beat me all the time for it. It did not explain why she would beat us though. It was still horrible either way. It really did not matter why they beat us. We were just children. I started to grow hair on my bottom and underarms, and I had breast, but they still made us strip to beat us. Sometimes they would take a break and sit down and have a drink of Canadian Club and a cigarette and returned to the beatings sometimes. Afterwards we would be sent to bed most of the time with no food. Not even a snack. After a night of sleep, it would be my job to cook breakfast and clean the kitchen. I had to do the dishes, sweep the floor and putting up any leftover food. Sometimes I would be helped, most of the time not. It seemed like I had a curse. Every time I received a beating, I wondered, where is god during this beating? I wondered if he could see them beating us and if so, why don’t you stop them? Why is he allowing this to happen? But as always, I never received an answer, just more beatings. It seemed like those beatings would last forever. I often wondered why mom allowed such brutality to happen to her children. We were not sure if she loved us or not. If she did not have to do anything, she could care less who cooked or cleaned. Over a short time, span mom had two more sons. Once they got to be of age they got beat too. I could not understand why she kept having children, if she did not want to have any more children. She had as many as seven live births. One of the children passed away after being alive for three months and then he died. Mom was very hurt by the death, but she moved on. She still had six live children to take care of, so she snapped back into life. It was hard to believe the way those wardens would treat children. The beatings they gave us were senseless. My brother broke a table accidentally, but they beat him so bad his skin broke open and he bled everywhere for days. I wanted to call the police so bad. I kept asking god why are you letting them do us like this? What did we do wrong? Please tell me so I can fix it before they kill us. Or do you want them to kill us? Never did get an answer. We were threatened that if we told anyone they would kill us. One by one. It was tragic the way they treated all of us. I knew there just could not be a god who allows adults to abuse children and approve of those types of things to go on and on, is it? One of the children she had passed away. She had two more afterwards. There was no funeral or anything. One day he was there, the next day he was not. My uncle moved in with us afterwards and he was a mess. He was a total drunk and us children hated him. Every day he was drunk. He would go to the backyard and kill squirrels and rabbits to eat for himself. He would skin them in the backyard and chased us around with the animal. We told our parents, but they did nothing. So, we found a way to pay him back for being wicked. He smoked a lot of cigarettes. He smoked like a chimney. When he was sleep with his mouth open, we would dump the butts in his mouth when he went to sleep. He would choke bad when he would wake up coughing, he choked. When he told on us, we got our butts tore up and bad until our skin broke opened. That stopped quickly. Finally, our uncle got a girlfriend who was a drunk like he was, and they got together and moved to Detroit. We were happy for a change, it was like god answered that prayer fast, but not for long. Mom became depressed and started drinking heavy again. It seems like the older we got the longer the beating would last. Now instead of them using a belt and the buckles, they started using an extension cord. We all kept open wounds on our bodies. We all wore wounds. I never understood. How can they say they love us, and they beat us so bad? When mom said she wanted us to get baptized. I thought finally maybe we will be able to tell the preacher what was going on in our house. The truth! That did not happen. The morning we were supposed to go to the church, both our parents got drunk the night before. They had one of the biggest fights I had seen in a while. They both were bleeding; lips were busted and they both had black eyes. I was shocked. When the preacher saw how they looked, he thought he would baptize them before they killed each other. So, he baptized the entire family and we really did need the spiritual encouragement. But as soon as he was finished, they rushed us out of the sanctuary so fast. I did not get to tell them anything for a long time. I was so disappointed. I cried all the way back home. I knew there was no god. He did not even let us tell the one person I thought might be able to help us, before they really killed us. I wanted to kill myself. After all I felt it was only a matter of time before our parents killed us, so why not do it to my own self. We were always told if we told anybody what would happen to us. So, I prayed to god to end it all. I was tired of this existence. The only thing though, it was not just me, I had brothers and mom was still having children. One of us had already passed away. I thought maybe I should not do that. That seemed to be kind of selfish and they needed help. The beatings are getting worst. I knew I could not kill myself because my brothers would not make it, without someone to care for them and loved them like it should be. By now all of us are suffering at the hands of our parents and mom suffered at the hands of daddy. He would beat mom on a regular basis. One time her and her sister went out to a birthday party for one of her other sisters. At the time mom was having a baby, so she did not drink as much so she could drive when the party was over. She road with her sister so she could drive back. When she got home, daddy grabbed her up by the collar and hit her so hard, she flew across the room. Her head went through the wall. I thought she was going to die he hit her so hard and continued to beat on her. Finally, I ran past them into the kitchen and got a skillet. I ran back in the living room where they were and I hit him across the back of his neck, he dropped to the floor and laid there. I called the police, and they came and called the life squad, and they took him to the hospital. He could not move. He stayed in the hospital for almost two months. He swore he would kill me when he was able to get up and out of the hospital. He did not walk for some time. I was kind a scared because I knew he would try to hurt me as soon as he could. He was in the hospital long enough for our wounds to heal. Life was a little better while he was gone. Even mom seemed to enjoy the alone time as much as we did. However, that was truly short lived. After a couple of months daddy got out of the hospital and was back at the hell hole called home. He was a mean as a rattle snake with an ax to grind. He was limited to what he could do so we became Hebrew Slaves to do anything he wanted. He was getting stronger. I knew the beatings would start soon. I started praying he would die in his sleep or something, but that did not happen. When he started back to work, I knew we would be in trouble. He not only started beating us, but he would beat mom as well. We were all scared he would kill us all one day. One day me and my friend went to the rest-home that sat on the corner of the street where we lived and we caught a bunch of garden snakes to scare him to death, I was hoping. When I returned to the hell hole, we took the snakes to the basement and put them in the pile of clothes on the floor next to the table and chairs where they would sit and smoke and drink, across from where we would get our beatings. When I heard him screaming, I knew he did not die from fright, so he ran up the steps to the kitchen. He knew it was me who put the snakes there. He beat me so bad that day it was crazy. I wanted to kill him. It seemed like he got all his strength back. The strikes with the cord were so hard, it felt like my skin was opening with every stroke. I started to bleed from head to toe. My brothers were so scared, they begged him to stop. He finally ran out of breath and stopped the beating. I wanted to call the police so bad, but I was scared to call. It took forever for my skin to heal. After that I developed some type of skin disorder from stress that caused, my body to break out in hives and blisters. Once my entire body broke out. Even the bottom of my feet broke out in blisters. I hated them so bad, I wanted to do something horrible to them. I did not though, I just continued to pray. I really did not think god was listening because he did not answer my prayer to make them stop. The only life we as children so far has been a life of misery. None of the good times ever made up for the misery we endured. I started to pray to grow up and move out. I was only eleven, so I had a way to go. School for now is a way out for a while and my wounds can heal. What a relief. I almost did not want to see the weekend come, but sometimes I could visit my friends from school, and I did not have to take one of the children with me either. During the summer breaks though the boys were my responsibility most of the time while mom and dad worked.

CHAPTER 2

SUMMER WITH THE BOYZ

Once the three oldest of my brothers was big enough to travel, they did and with me most of the time. We would go to the park and swim, play basketball, volleyball and baseball. We would go roller skating as well. The boys club was on the way, so they got to go there too. We did have some fun sometimes when my parents were not around. One day we were playing in the yard next door and I fell down the driveway and my knee was full of glass and it hurt bad, I could hardly move. Blood was everywhere. We managed to get back home to wait for one of our parents to get there so I could go to the hospital. Well daddy got there first and told me I should have been more careful, and I had to wait until my mother gets there because he was tired. He had just got home from work and he was going to bed, and he did just so. Now I have no choice but to wait for mom to get here. She finally arrived and took me to the hospital. The patella was cracked and full of glass. The doctors gave me fifteen stitches in my knee. I hated the cast, but the doctor said it was needed so I got it. I think it was the first time I did not have as many chores. I still had to watch the boys regardless. I could not do much step climbing but I survived. The cast stayed on a few weeks and was then removed. When we returned from the hospital daddy said, I should have been paying attention to what I was doing and the next time I will bleed to death. I still had to cook dinner that day, I was so mad I could have spit. I do not know why I was expecting something different, but anyway. I thought, maybe for one moment god was hearing me, but I was wrong again. Still between a rock and a hard place. I thought things were getting better when summer was almost over, and mom and dad were talking about going school shopping for clothes for us. However, that was so far from the truth. We ended up going to Goodwill for our school clothes. As much as they worked, I just knew they were kidding, but sure enough we went to the local Goodwill and got clothes. They chose to buy us used clothes while they drank the best liquors, have dinner parties and great clothes, shoes and jewelry for themselves. Not only did they have the finer things for themselves, but they did it at our expense. While they ate steak and lobsters, we ate hamburgers. Sometimes we had to eat peanut butter and jelly. I asked, are we going to always eat peanut butter and jelly all the time? I never got an answer from him and we continued to eat Pb and j sandwiches. At least we ate something, and we did not starve to death. It was close, but we made it. Most of the time when school was started, we ate a little better. Lunch at school was a blessing. We got all kind of good foods and desserts. Afterwards they had a change of heart in the end. God, I thought maybe he heard us. We even got chocolate milk, orange juice and tomato juice. We were happy once again for a change. After a period of time my knee was totally back to normal. I was back to my job of cooking and taking care of the boys. Things started to be different with mom and dad. They even started taking us to church on Sundays if they did not fight before church. I thought well maybe god is listening after all. I know he answers prayers in the name of Jesus Christ. Even though they bought our clothes, shoes and coats from the Goodwill. Those clothes came right in time for the winter. Sometimes the winters can be brutal, but they had the best of gear out there. Cashmere coats, fur hats, scarfs and the works. I thought I will be glad when I get older so I can buy nice things for myself. Once it got cold, we did at least get long johns thank god. We walked back and forth to school when it was cold a lot of times. Once we got snow boots, which helped, and we were happy. Happiness did not take place most of the time. Winter was coming to an end and it was starting to warm up a little. One of my brothers was born in February and sometimes he would get a cake, that was a good time for us sometimes. Sometimes we did not get anything. Not even a cake. Short lived happiness was a major event in our house. We as children learned never to get too excited about anything because it might happen and it might not, so we did not get our