The Journey of an Abused Child: A Story of Abuse, Triumph, and Forgiveness

By William Bullock

This author tells the true story of his younger life of physical abuse and extreme mental abuse that was imposed upon him by an unstable stepdad on a daily basis. In this book, the author shares raw events from his abuse that occurred when he was ten years old to about fifteen years old, and the only safe place he could sometimes escape to was his grandma's house and the local church whenever he was allowed to attend. One day, he met a total stranger on the street while jogging who broke his concentration and level of endurance and proceeded to ask several questions out of the blue, causing him to be startled, asking him questions that caused him to confront and reflect back on a part of his life he had tried to deny and forget. This Christian stranger later introduced him to a caring God-fearing man by the name of Pastor Gerald who helped him in changing his life forever. He was told that you cannot conquer that which you do not confront. You must confront the problem before you can conquer it. He further says that since this spiritual encounter with Pastor Gerald Greene, his life has never been the same.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098015039

Book preview

Chapter 1

Growing up in the Cross Hairs of Abuse

If a young girl became pregnant as my mom did at seventeen, she was sent away to a distant relative or a distant friend’s house to have her baby where she was not known by anyone. She would only return to her home when the ordeal was over. It was also customary to leave the baby behind for several months before it was reunited with the mother and her family.

Whenever the baby was reunited with the mother, the child was then raised as a child belonging to a distant relative who could not afford to take care of him or her. My aunt raised my second cousin as a foster child. He found out at the age of eighteen that she was his biological mother. He was shocked and confused, he was then told the true story about his life.

Another secret that would occur is when a young girl would have a baby out of wedlock, sometimes, the child would be given the name of a distant relative where no real connection could be made between the baby and the real mother. All this is done in secret so that the family and the baby’s mother would not be embarrassed and brought to shame in the community.

When I was born, information like the birthplace, the father’s name was left off the birth certificate and was passed on as unknown. Even today, I feel as though I don’t belong to anyone. Sometimes, I describe myself as the person with no name.

It is my understanding that the midwife who delivered me at birth was also the person who filled out all the necessary paperwork that was turned in to the courthouse.

Unfortunately, my mother never shared with me the real truth about the errors that is recorded on my birth certificate. I still do not know who my father is and the answer to several other questions that was left empty on my birth certificate. The midwife did not do a good job registering me as a newborn. I guess I will never know what the real truth is. They all have deceased with the real truth that is now mislaid forever.

One afternoon while having a conversation with my sister Nettie concerning my dad, she told me that our aunt Ruby told her that my dad was a military man and my mother should tell me the truth once and for all. My mother never did. I don’t know what to think anymore. However, I was told on several occasions to try finding out through isotope analysis of your teeth. It can help indicate one’s birthplace and other historical information about you. We can also include DNA analysis. There is hope.

Fast-forwarding to the time that I was nine years old, my mom finally fell in love with this man who was a fast smooth talker and who smiled all the time. He brought her something special every time that he would visit us while we were living with my grandma. I did not like him. He wore too much makeup or some kind of powder on his face. You could smell it all across the room. It made me sneeze, and they would look at me in a disapproval manner. He never paid any attention to me at all until my mother said one day that I was her son. He just looked at me and kept on talking to my mom.

This back-and-forth love affair went on, as I recall, for five months, and he finally asked my mom to marry him. She did not give him an answer right away but discussed it with my grandma. My grandma told her she had heard a few bad things about his character and she should probably not marry him. My mom listened for a little while and went ahead and gave him thumbs-up anyway. She thought that he had the charms of a real gentleman whom she could have a real life with forever.

A date was set for the wedding. My mom was bursting inside with excitement, and I had never seen her like that before. At this point, I was not happy. I did not know what was going to happen to me. Was I going to live with my grandma or my mom and stepdad? I finally asked my mom, and she said that we will all live together with my stepdad. In the back of my mind, I still did not like him, but I didn’t tell my mom. He never talked to me like a real dad, just hello and goodbye.

The day of the wedding arrived, and everyone was excited except my grandma. She was still upset that my mom did not take her advice and not marry him; however, the whole family attended the wedding, and I sat with Grandma.

As I watched, my mom looked beautiful in her long pretty gown. I was glad that she was my mom. She had a winning personality that could saturate an entire room.

Things moved along very swiftly, and the wedding vows were over, and it was time for the reception. Oh, boy, I was going to have some of that coconut cake that Grandma made. You had to eat regular food first then your desert. We kids had our own table, and we were served first. I noticed my grandma was watching me so that I would not overeat and be sick. I didn’t care, all I wanted to do was eat some of everything that was on the table, but Grandma was still watching me with those quick eyes of hers.

Now that the wedding was over, it was time for the honeymoon, and they were off to Jamaica for two weeks. Mom said that they were going to see Rose Hall Great House, Rocklands Bird Sanctuary, and the beach in Negril, and on and on. Everyone was excited for them and wished them well.

The two-week honeymoon turned into three weeks. I thought that my mom was never coming back. Finally, they returned, and my mom still had a big smile on her face. She looked at me and said, Have you been a good boy?

And Grandma said, I had been very good, and I could stay with her any time.

My stepdad looked over at my grandma and said, You are spoiling him to death. He is not going to be good for nothing. No one said a word. My mom motioned for me to go into the house, and they continued to talk. I was watching through the window. All of sudden, my grandma rushed inside and said to me, never forget that I was her special smart boy and always will be. She said for me to go to school and make them proud and I was like my uncle Toby who was a CPA (certified public accountant), then she went up the stairs to finish mopping the upstairs balcony floor. I did not know what to make of it all. All I know was when my mom walked inside, she looked upset and was not smiling anymore. He wasn’t smiling either. I assumed that they had been talking about me.

My grandma had told me while they were on their honeymoon that she wanted me to stay with her if my mom would let me. I was excited because Grandma cooked all my favorite food. I could eat as much as I liked whenever she cooked. I guess I was a little spoiled but not a lot. Grandma always gave me extra chances when I was a little mischievous, causing trouble in a playful way.

Later on that afternoon, my mom called me over and said to stop going on about staying with Grandma because it was not going to happen. I was going to stay with her wherever that was. I was kind of sad after that. To make me feel better, Grandma said that I could come and visit her on some weekends. I felt a little better but not much.

Later that summer, my mom, stepdad, and I moved into a one-bedroom apartment around the corner from Grandma’s house. I had to sleep on the couch because I wasn’t very big, but the couch was not very comfortable. Sometimes, I would take my blanket and sleep on the floor because it was cooler. The summer nights were hot with no air conditioner in sight. At Grandma’s house, I had my own bedroom and a small fan too.

When summer was coming to an end, my mom said that they were saving money to buy a house and maybe then I would have my own room. In the meantime, I was to go to Grandma at the end of the school day. My mom had to work in order to help save more money for the house. She will pick me up from Grandma’s house at the end of the day. Having to go over to Grandma’s house after school was great because she always had something good in the oven or some other place in the kitchen.

Sometimes, you could tell what she had cooked by the smell coming from the kitchen. She always had something special for hungry little boys like me.

It took three years before we moved into a house of our own, and I was glad that I did not have to sleep on the couch anymore. It was a two-bedroom house on the hill near Hillcrest Road. I finally had my own bedroom. Everything was going just great.

My stepdad decided to adopt me as his son. I was very happy about that. My stepdad and I were finally friends. He treated me well, and I did not mind doing the chores in and out of the house. I had plenty to eat and nice clothes to wear to school. It really felt great to have him as my stepdad. However, this new love affair started to fade a little at a time.

I was twelve years old now, and my mom had another baby after having a miscarriage the year before. This time, there were no complications during childbirth. My grandma was over every day to make sure my mom was doing things right before she had to go back to work. Grandma did most of the cooking and cleaning until my mom could take over again. I still got to see my grandma sometimes twice a day.

About four months later after the baby was born, my stepdad started to stay out late in the evening, hanging out with a bunch of men down at the local bar. My mom was surprise to find out that he drank heavily, he never did before.

When he would return home, we noticed that his eyes would be red from drinking and he did not want to talk about much of anything that was going on in the house anymore. He would just sit and stare in silence. Sometimes, he would jump up and start pacing the floor in a rapid manner. On some occasions, he would talk to himself. He was acting awfully strange to say the least.

His whole attitude was changing in a strange way, and we did not know what to make of it. He seemed to like the baby and his children, but he looked at me and would frown and keep walking. We could not figure out what to do. My mom had a talk with Grandma, and I heard Grandma say that, This is what I was trying to warn you about before you married him. My grandma said that there was nothing she could do but be there for us. He had some kind of mental issues.

Later that evening, he came in from being out with his friends at the bar again. He went into the kitchen to get a cup from the neatly stacked dishes, but he dropped the cup and broke it. He exploded in a terrible outburst that we had never seen before. He said it was my mom’s fault that he dropped the cup. She did not stack the dishes properly. He got his coat and went back out of the door, leaving us sitting there in shock. My mom seemed totally puzzled and lost. We had never seen him that way before. It was obvious that he was having some kind of meltdown. He had stopped communicating with us altogether. My mom was left to figure out on her own what to do to keep everything going in the right direction. He did not give her a chance to say a word to him about his drinking. He was acting like an angry wounded animal.

He finally came home, but it was very late, and we were all in bed asleep, but we immediately woke up. He went over to the couch and fell asleep. When we all got up the next morning, he was still asleep on the couch. We did not wake him, and my mother made breakfast. Finally, he sat up, stretched, and went to wash, shave, and then dress for work. He came to the table and ate five scramble eggs, four slices of bacon, four pieces of toast, and a big glass of tomato juice with three squirts of hot sauce, and he left for work without saying a word. What a mysterious strange man he had become.

One night in one of his drunken sprees, he walked into the house and as always went to the kitchen. He managed to stumble to the kitchen sink and out of the kitchen to the cabinet in the bathroom like he was looking for something but could not find it.

On this particular night, he came back to the living room and said to my mother, I should have never married you.

You offend me. My mom sat there with her head down in disbelief at what she was hearing. This was not the man that she thought she married. He was operating with a totally different mind-set. It was almost unexplainable. What had happened to the happy person that brought her things and talked about the future of a family and expressed love and honesty? Where did he go? Who was this person that we were seeing and experiencing in such a frightful way? We had no answers. I had become afraid of him, and I did not sleep well anymore, and neither did my mom. I wanted to stay with Grandma, but he would not hear of it.

Daily drinking had become his new normal, and he started taking off from work at least once a week. It was amazing how he could get through a whole day’s work and without a problem.

On this particular day, he started to use loud verbal abusive language toward my mom or me but never any of his children. He would look for any excuse to get started. It could be the dishes are not clean, the house is dirty, his clothes are wrinkled, then the demeaning name-calling, and shameful put-downs would start. It was very hurtful to say the least. I knew that my mother was a smart person who was not stupid. She could do anything she put her mind to. She also taught me to always do the same at home and at school. My stepdad was not a nice person anymore. He was evil with red eyes, like a devil. He left us confused.

To say the least, the pervading mood in our house became a negative place to live. There was no love or happiness there anymore. Sometimes, I would escape in my mind by pretending that I was on a faraway trip like Disney World that had lots of rides and beautiful waterfalls, but I soon had to return to reality with all the yelling and screaming going on around me. It was frightening, and I just wanted to go to Grandma’s house. I no longer felt safe around him because he was very unpredictable, and you never knew what he was going to do next. I was not allowed to talk to Grandma anymore unless he was present.

Sometimes, I felt like running as fast as I could so that I didn’t have to hear the unkind verbal attacks he would dish out. It was hard to know what to do at all.

One night when he came home drunk, he added a new dimension to his madness. He started to drink more alcohol once he arrived home. As he drank more alcohol, his eyes would get red like blood or fire. His bloodshot eyes made him look like the devil. He was an awful sight to behold. How he had changed in such a short time. He was like a stranger to us.

It was becoming a nightly routine to see him drink until he would sometimes pass out on my mom’s beautiful couch that they bought together. Once he passed out, we could almost relax for a short time. You never knew whether he was really passed out or playing possum. So we sat in one place until he would come out of his drunken stupor. You did not dare go to bed or anything else until he was awake again, and to give you permission to do so, he had to show his authority at all times, and why, I don’t know. It was as though your opinion didn’t count at all, just his opinion and his alone.

I remember several times we had to sit up all night because he had not dismissed us for bed. I remember slowly and carefully going to the restroom after sitting up most of the night in one spot. I was so scared on my way to the restroom, until you could hear my heart beating all the way across the room. My mom made it back before he woke up as well. Sadly to say, if you were ever caught, that meant more terrible punishment of some kind. We were like a trained dog or a seal at the zoo that had to wait for the trainer to tell them what to do next.

This time, he had truly passed out. When he finally woke up, we were still sitting there. It was morning, the sun was beginning to shine through the windows. He sat up and looked all around and ordered my mom to go and make him his breakfast and be quick about it.

As my mom proceeded to obey his order, he went into the kitchen and pushed her away from the stove and started to make his own breakfast because he did not want her to mess up his good food he had bought. She was just too stupid to do anything right even though she made his breakfast every day.

As he proceeded to make his own breakfast that day, you could see the wheels turning in his head as to how he was going to punish you next. I was told to go and wash the dishes and not to touch any food that he had put out on the counter. That was for his children and not us. We did not get breakfast that day nor any supper. It was a very long and sad day without any food to eat. I was allowed a glass of water and one bathroom break. For some reason, he did not go to work that day, and he made our lives hell for the rest of that day.

At last, the day was over, and we had survived the punishment. We were told to get out of his sight. My mom assumed he was letting us go to bed. I remember falling asleep that night feeling weak and cold inside. I had survived another horrible day.

The next morning, my mom was up early making breakfast as usual as though nothing had happened the day before. You did what you thought you needed to do for the day, with bated breath, just waiting for the war to start again, and sure enough, it always did.

As my mom had her back turned and was putting the bacon onto the large dish, he jumped from behind the door nearly scaring us to death. We thought that this was the end. He had been there all that time watching us through an open shelf. We did not know what he was up to. He started shouting and yelling at my mom for no reason. He told her that he wanted the two of us out of his house by nightfall. He grabbed two pieces of bacon and left the kitchen and went out the front door. I was confused, and I looked at my mom for some clarity, and she went on as nothing had been said.

Suddenly, he quickly came back into the house through the front door and accused my mom of letting a man into his house because he found dirt on the living room carpet. The dirt that he was referring to was from his own shoes. We were never allowed to contradict him even when he was wrong. The only thing