Broken

By Sarah Deaderick

The voice of a child often gets dismissed. When you were in school, do you remember seeing the sad girl in the back of the class? The kid that smelled a little funny and was always picked on for it or was a bully themselves? What was your role in this situation? I wonder, did you ever stop to think, what is happening in their home to make them the way that they are? This true story is of a broken girl who took years to speak up and now is blurting it on the rooftops! She wanted to die because of the abuse and the traumas she experienced in her life, and most of the time, no one would even listen. There is so much trauma and so many people who do help but also so many people who do not know how to help. Dig in to post-traumatic stress disorder, dissociation disorder, and so much more as she relives her life just for you. You will also find the resources you need to get help if you know someone or have known of someone who has been physically or sexually assaulted or just needs mental health help in general. Join her on this journey to create awareness around PTSD and child abuse. It could happen to anyone. More importantly, join her to create an army of very aware children to protect yourself from the monster predators that are very real.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9781662481765

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Broken

Sarah Deaderick

Copyright © 2022 Sarah Deaderick

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2022

ISBN 978-1-6624-8175-8 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-8176-5 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1

Moving with a Dad

Chapter 2

House of Horrors

Chapter 3

Broke

Chapter 4

Broken Little Whore

Chapter 5

Just a Normal Eighth Grader

Chapter 6

The Saviors

Chapter 7

Court Day

Chapter 8

New Life

Chapter 9

It's Always the Good One

Chapter 10

The Christian School Kids

Chapter 11

The Perfect Navy Wife

Chapter 12

Starting Over… Again

Chapter 13

Heaven's Light

Chapter 14

Faces of the Disorder

Chapter 15

US Facts

Chapter 16

Getting Help

Chapter 17

The Signs

Chapter 18

Report It

About the Author

This is for the one in four women and one in six men who never get to tell their story because they do not survive sexual assault, and are too scared to come forward because of fear of death, money, or power. For all of the ones who are broken, this is for you.

Introduction

Every living thing is created from an atom, and that atom emits energy. Every one of us emits this energy out into the world as we move about, and when we give ourselves to someone, our energies connect. They dance like wild fire. Like the growing mushroom in the bottom of the forest, it feels the vibration of the entire forest from its stalk to its top. It is the forest and is connected to every mushroom that spores from it. Your body is your own, gifted to us by our creator. We are taught, as a child, to do specific steps in life to be successful in this life. Oh, and in the views of many religious organizations in life, to be safe from eternal burning hell, we must follow the way of man—well, the way they have translated the Word of God.

Sex has always been different for me. I would say different with a fat capital D. Not just the emotional bullshit kind of sex you normally go through as a young adult. Not even the I hate him and he is using me, I keep going back even though he always hurts me kind of pain. Not even the he just cheated on me kind of pain or even the he left me for another chic kind of pain. Nope, not just the easy stuff. It started off with a real bang…as me, nine years old, in the bathroom, a single tear flashing on my hot cheeks. Blood on a tissue and hands, what happened to me? What just happened to me? My God, am I broken? Why am I bleeding?

Women, children, and people of all different walks of life are physically and mentally abused every day and never say a word because of a few small things, like money and power. Never say a word because they are taught that it's the thing to do. Maybe they feel their story is not as important or as serious as others. It only happened once or twice, so no big deal, right? They have been through worse. They are afraid of something, whether it's retaliation or having no shelter. Maybe it is their only choice of survival. It's their religion so they must accept this as their fate. This is the choice made for them. Sexual freedom is something America is not fighting hard enough for, especially when it comes to our children. So today, I speak for those who cannot speak, who will not speak, and who may be too broken to speak for themselves! You never know who you may help today if you tell your story.

Chapter 1

Moving with a Dad

You see, I picture my two-year-old self living in this house, just two doors down from my Mamaw Fox's house. I will always remember the big willow tree in the front yard my mom planted when she was pregnant with my sister. Dirty blond hair, green eyes (grayish-blue when I cry), so scrawny the wind could blow you over, and got to get meat on those bones, my Mamaw Fox would say. She and my Mamaw Long were always trying to feed someone. Mom was probably packing all of our things away in boxes. Sorting and writing to my dad why my sister and I were better off moving with her and her new husband. She was leaving him for his friend, and he was our new dad. She felt this was what God wanted her to do.

This was what I felt the situation looked like, but my parents were amazing to never talk bad about each other. I knew they had love for each other in this home, and it had ended. It was time for her to move on, and I believe this was what she thought was the best choice for us at the time. As mothers, this is all we can do. We strive to be happy for our children and try and make the best of choices. My parents thought they were making the best of choices. So Mom felt like we should go with him, the new Dad. This was what we were to call him, and we were always corrected, Dad. This was what he should be called, with yes, sir and no, sir, every day with no mistakes. He really was a monster and very scary.

My sister, Samantha, Mom, and myself would all be moving to Memphis, Tennessee, with Dale Richard Grindle. He really gave me the creeps from day one. Even if it was just a ride to go to the store, I was terrified to be left alone with him. Kids just know things. He would force me to go, and I would scream and beg my mom not to leave me alone with him. I remember one time jumping out of the car and begging not to go. Her putting me back in and telling me it was fine and all would be okay. People loved Dale. All the people did. Church people and his work people just loved him. He was the perfect father figure. Dale loved kisses on the lips and to hold our hand very tightly so we did not get lost. Always hold his hand and sit on his lap or closer.

Bald, fat fuck, crooked yellow teeth, like he was a smoker in his previous life, and with thick bifocal glasses. Sometimes, he wore trucker hats like a real creeper, even sported a creeper mustache. I remember nothing much about this city other than being forced to help build a fence. Maybe this was from stories instead of the actual memory? I did remember a hotel of ducks, mallard ducks, that would walk on a red carpet that went into an elevator. The ducks would take the elevator all the way to the rooftop! Other than this, Memphis was nothing but story-told memories. My dad said I was such a talker at this age, but I think it was because I was allowed to say all things at home to him. He let me speak so freely. I was able to