As God is My Witness: Ginnie's Story

By Carol Ann Conlin

"As God is My Witness, Ginnie's Story", is a Fictional story based on the true story of Carol Ann's life. The names and places have been changed to protect the innocent. This is a story of intergenerational abuse. This story is hard to read, but a story that needs to be shared. Giving a voice to victims. This is a story

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stratton Press
• Release date: Jun 30, 2022
• ISBN: 9781648959943

Carol Ann Conlin

Carol Ann Conlin was one of 12 growing up in rural southern Ontario. She is an award winning fine artist and writer. On completion of college, Carol Ann received an English award in creative writing and her Graphic Arts Diploma. She is a devoted mother who puts her family first. She voluntarily helps others move beyond their pain of past experiences, while inspiring them to have the faith and courage to heal. Carol Ann Conlin is a survivor!

Book preview

My New Family

The car stopped outside of a small house. The lady opened the car door and lifted me out. She carried me to the front door of the small house, and she began to knock. It was a sunny day. I could feel the sun’s warmth on my head. I was wearing a red coat and matching hat. A tall, thin, dark-haired lady answered the door.

Here is your daughter, Mrs. Harland.

She tried to pass me to the woman, but I was very frightened and began to kick and scream. It was as if I was an object, a thing without feelings or thoughts. I didn’t want to go with this strange person.

No please! I want my mommy, I want Meme. I was crying and pleading. No please! I want to go home!

The lady said to the stranger, It’s okay, she’s just tired. She will get to know you. Just be patient, put her in bed, and close the door.

Mrs. Harland carried me down the small hallway, and she threw me into the bed. She will sleep now. I cried myself to sleep. When I woke, I realized that some of the items in the room were from my own room. There were two native dolls in their little papooses on the wall and my cutouts Gabby Hays, Puss, and Spot the Dog were there too. I was allowed to come out of the room. I felt so alone. Mrs. Harland spoke quietly to me at first. She said, I am your mommy and these are your brothers.

I thought, You are not my mommy! Jeff, is my brother, not these strange-looking fellows.

The tallest boy asked, Where is our other sister?

The lady explained that she had already been adopted. She will not be coming home to live with us. The court decided that your father did something terrible to her, and she must stay with her adoptive parents.

I didn’t want any of this. I started to cry again. I was terrified of the new family and my surroundings. I wondered why I was taken away from the people I knew and loved. I ran under the table in the kitchen; there I stayed. I wouldn’t eat or speak to anyone; all I could do was sob. I only came out when I was pulled out and sent to bed. One day while under the table, a lady with a kind voice came for tea.

I’m your grandma, Ginnie, don’t you remember me, honey? I came to visit you. I brought you presents, the lady said.

I did remember the lady and her soft voice.

She said to me, What seems to be your problem?

I started to cry again, I want my mommy.

Sh, now, don’t cry, wee one, she said. I’ll tell you what. If you will come out and visit with us just a little while, I promise you will see your Daddy and Mommy again, but you must promise to be a good girl.

Will you let me see Mommy? I asked

I will try, she spoke.

I agreed with her.

She replied, That’s a good girl.

The tall, thin lady had come back into the room.

Ginnie, this is your new mommy for now, and these are your older brothers. The two babies in the other room are your little sister and brother. Soon you will have a new little brother or sister. Now you have two families. You are a big sister now.

I asked her, Will you let me see my other mommy?

Yes! If you are a very good girl, you will be able to see your other daddy, she responded.

I tried very hard to be a good girl after that. I wanted to see my own daddy, mommy, Jeff, and especially my big sister Meme again. Days had passed, and then one morning, I heard a familiar voice. It said, Milkman! He called, and I ran to the little window.

Daddy! I cried

Ginnie, is that my Ginnie? he replied.

Daddy knocked on the front door.

I was so excited. I screamed, Daddy, Daddy!

My new mother opened the door, and I ran into his outstretched arms, giving him a big hug.

Daddy, I spoke.

He said, I’m sorry, I can’t stay long. I brought everyone some chocolate milk.

He spoke to my new mother, and they agreed that he could come back once in a while to see me. Then he went back out to his milk cart. We all watched as his horse slowly went up the street and out of sight. I started crying again.

My mother responded, If you ever want to see your daddy again, you will stop that blatting. It won’t get you anywhere. Now stop! If you promise to be good, he can come again.

I stopped as best as I could. The idea of seeing my dad helped me behave and do whatever was expected of me.

I had gotten up early and my brothers were making ketchup sandwiches. They were very hungry and so was I. The older boys gave me a slice and told me to go back to my bed. There was a noise, and someone was moving around. The boys dropped everything and ran. When I looked up, there stood my new mom. She shouted at me for being up and for getting into the bread. The day got steadily worse. A knock came to the door. My mother grabbed me and shoved me into my room.

Not today, she spoke. I told you that you may only see him if you are good. You were a bad girl. You are not going to see him.

I heard my daddy’s voice.

I pleaded, Please, I wouldn’t be bad again. I’ll be good.

I didn’t see my daddy. I only heard him.

When my father left, my mother said, I told you what would happen.

My mother allowed me to come out of my room. My new mother looked me straight in the eye. Her face was full of rage. I was very frightened of her. She grabbed my arm and shook me.

She said, You are a very bad little girl, because you are so bad and won’t stop that continuous winning, you will never ever see your daddy again.

She walked away from me.

I pleaded with her, No please, I am sorry. I will be good. Please! I want to see my mommy and daddy. I will be good for you.

My mother said, They are not your mommy or daddy. I am your mother. Nothing you say will change my mind.

In fact, the more I pleaded, the angrier she became.

She screamed, You are a spoiled little brat, and you cause nothing but trouble. You have been nothing but trouble from the day you were born. Now you are my daughter, and you will do as I say.

With her last few words, I became angry and frustrated, I turned and behind me on a shelf was a group of figurines of little girls, one for each month. I knew my new mother loved them. I wanted to let her know how much I hurt. I wanted to get even. I wanted her to be so angry that she would send me back to my own family. With one sweep of my arm, I swept the shelf clean. The ones that fell to the floor, I stamped on.

You little bitch, she said.

She grabbed me by my hair and lifted me into the air. She smacked my face several times and then she smacked my backside, hitting my back and legs. She tossed me up against the wall, and I fell to the floor. I wet myself. This made my mother angrier, and she continued to shake me. Finally, she left me, flinging me back on the bed in my room. I lay there sobbing. I didn’t want to leave that bed all day. I was so frightened of her. I had never been hit like this before. My other mother didn’t hit, and she taught me hitting was wrong. I would never see my father again. I hurt so much inside, but the beating didn’t hurt as much as the thought of never seeing my daddy again. I didn’t know what was happening, I only knew that I was terrified and very sad. I was crying inside out, and no one was listening to me. I was a possession to be seen, but never heard. I was too frightened to talk; it only got me beaten. I knew that I would be punished for breaking her figurines. However, I believed that the beating was worth the punishment, because no punishment could be worse than not being allowed to seeing my mommy, daddy, Jeff, and Meme again. I had learned it was better not to speak in my new home. This way, I was less noticed. I tried very hard not to draw attention to myself, but that didn’t even help.

My New Father

That evening, I was introduced to a tall, dark-haired man, my brothers and I came to know this man as Daddy. At first, he seemed very kind and he often played with us. He would let me sit on his knee. However, my brothers were not allowed on his knee.

He said, They are to be men and one man doesn’t sit on the knee of another man.

My new daddy was a rough man.

My mother told us he was a wrestler. He wore a mask and only went in the ring when things had gotten out of hand. He told us he had lost this job because he was bad tempered. My new daddy liked to play games with us. I was afraid of his games. He sat me on top of the refrigerator and laughed at me when I couldn’t get down. He held me by one leg upside down over his back, and he teased us until we started to cry. He became angry when I cried. He yelled and swore at my brothers and me. He called us babies, and like the big bully he was, he terrorized us. One of his favorite games was to have us line up and touch the sink. The sink somehow was connected to the electricity, and when we touched it, we got a shock. We touched the sink out of fear. We were afraid of what he might do if we didn’t do as he commanded. This was also used at times as a punishment. He would have us hold on to the sink, clasping hands until we told him who the guilty party was that committed the last crime. It could have been almost anything, but most often, it was for stealing food.

Meeting My Father’s Friends

My father took me for a drive with his best friend. He seemed very proud of me. He told him I was his daughter. We went to his friend’s house, and when my daddy met his friend’s wife, she gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. My new father’s friend drove us home. I sat on my father’s knee in the passenger’s side of the truck. When we came in the front door, my mother seemed upset.

She said, What whore have you been with this time?

I was just out with my friend, he responded angrily.

Ya right! I know you only see him because of his wife.

He replied, Oh, forget it! Believe what you will.

He went into their bedroom.

My mother came over to me and asked, Did you see your daddy kiss or hug his friend’s wife?

I was happy to tell her yes! I thought it was so nice that she kissed him.

My mother said, You’re a very good girl. Now you sit here and watch TV.

She lifted me up and placed me on the sofa. While I was watching the TV, my father appeared in front of me. I’ll teach you to lie, you little bastard. You will never lie to anyone again.

He lifted me up by my throat from the sofa into the air. He dropped me to the floor, kicking me about. He grabbed me and punched me, again and again, just like a lifeless rag doll. One blow after another, his hard shoes pounded my body.

I was screaming, I’ll be good! I wouldn’t lie again.

I had no idea what a lie was and if I had lied. I thought I was going to die. I wet myself again, and he just continued. I was too frightened to speak. I just wanted to get away. Then, one of my older brothers stepped through the front door as my mother came running into the room stark naked.

She yelled, You are going to kill her. Stop! Stop it, she’s only a baby.

She’ll never be an f——n’ adult, my father said.

That was the last thing I remembered. When I awoke, I was lying face down in my bed. A man I would come to know as Uncle Edward and my mother were applying Vicks to my back. It was really burning, but I was too afraid to cry. My mother spoke to Uncle Edward as she rubbed my back and legs,

My mother said, He had no right, no right to beat her like this!

How could he do this?

Uncle Edward responded, Why did you have to get them back?

They are my children, and I wanted them, my mother replied.

They were better off where they were, Uncle Edward said.

My Brothers

It didn’t take long to learn that I didn’t belong. My foster mother had given me a large Greyhound bus to remind me of a trip we had taken when I was in her care. My two older brothers broke it up, and one of them had chewed the wheels off it. I was so upset when I had found it that I began to cry. My brother said that the baby had chewed it up, and being a four-year-old, I believed him. When my mother found the broken bus, she asked me how it had gotten broken. I answered the baby chewed it up. She looked at me for a moment and then she said that I was lying.

You don’t need to lie if you didn’t want the bus. You didn’t have to destroy it and then blame your little brother.

When my father came home, she told him I had broken the bus and lied about it. When he called me to the back porch, I explained as I had been told the baby chewed it up. When I tried to explain, he picked me up by my right leg and arm, and he tossed me into the far garden at the back of the yard. My leg hurt, and I had trouble getting up because of a small bush. I started to limp toward the back porch. My head aced.

My new father jeeringly said, That will teach you for lying. You just can’t tell the truth, can you? That is the second time you have lied. I told you I couldn’t stand a liar.

He went on talking to my mother as if nothing had happened.

I seldom spoke because I was afraid of saying the wrong things. When I did speak, I tried to be certain he never heard me. I also learned that I was the oldest girl, and as much as I was beaten, my older brothers, being boys, would blame me for a lot of things that they did. They seemed to be jealous of me, but as I got to know them and the rules of our new home, I realized it was more out of fear that they were acting. Boys were beaten worse than girls in this home, or so it seemed to the boys.

The Room

One evening just before dinner, I sat at the table anxiously awaiting the meal. My mother was preparing a birthday cake for my father. Finally, everyone was seated, and just as I picked up my fork, my mother glared at me. I became frightened. I didn’t know what I had done wrong. Suddenly, she yelled at me, You’ve been messing around with yourself, haven’t you.

I wasn’t sure what she meant by that. She yelled at me, When I speak to you, you will answer me. I saw you wiggling that leg. There, see, you did it again.

With that, she lifted me high off my chair by my arm and hair, kicking and smacking me about the head. She threw me in to the spare room and shut the door. I cried and tried to get out. I said I was hungry. My mother’s response was that bad girls aren’t fed at the table; they belong in jail. I continued crying as the room became darker and darker. The door finally opened, and a slice of dry bread and a cup of water were placed on the floor inside. I went over to the cup and started to cry again. Then I heard my brothers laughing outside the door. I heard my parents saying, You only get bread and water in jail.

I picked up the cup and took a sip of the water and threw the cup at the door, breaking it. When they herd the cup hit the door and smash, they continued to laugh and tease me. I was locked in. The room was a small bedroom. It had dirty white trim on the door and woodwork. The wallpaper was yellowed, tattered, and torn. There was a large narrow window in the room without curtains. A rod-iron bed with a mattress sat in front of the window. The room was full of boxes, clothes, and garbage. I tried to climb up on some boxes and turn on the light, but it didn’t work. The light was broken. As it became darker, I became more and more frightened. I wanted my mommy and daddy. I went over to the bed and knelt on the mattress facing the window. I saw a red brick wall that belonged to the house next door. I tried not to cry anymore. I didn’t care to be laughed at. I finally fell asleep, sobbing in the black of the night. When I woke, it was still night, and I could hear someone moving about the house outside of my room. Now a little bit of light appeared through the cracks in the door. I realized then that the sound of a passing train had woken me. I began sobbing again when suddenly, the door opened. It was Uncle Edward. He came into the room and picked me up. He said, How did this little kitten get herself locked in this nasty room?

His kind, strong hands and gentle voice were such a relief. Sobbing again, I said, My mother put me in there without supper because I was a bad girl.

He spoke to my mother, You locked her in the storage room?

Yes, I did! she responded. She was misbehaving and I put her in, but I didn’t mean to leave her there.

My uncle fed me supper, cleaned my face and hands, put my pajamas on me, and tucked me in bed with my older brothers. One of the boys had wet the bed, but I didn’t complain because I knew that telling