Things with mom were touch and go after the
burn incident. School was starting soon and I got new clothes and a new lunch
pail, but mom made me wear the same clothes week after week and by October they
were falling apart and didn't hide the bruises anymore. By this point mom was
"forgetting" to feed me dinner and breakfast was leftover cereal from
my brothers. I was so hungry at this point I started to dream about food. The
dreams were so real! I had a dream of a colossal burger with everything on it,
but every time I went to eat it I could never taste it. It was at this point I
started to steal food from school. I would steal it before school started, I
would put my lunch box down and pretend to tie my shoe when really I was
sneaking some twinkies and other goodies from other lunch pails. When the other
kids started to notice their food missing they hated me. So I started to steal
from grade one classes where I wasn't known. The principal knew it was me he
called mom, which meant less good and more beatings. She never fed me on
weekends and I wasn't never allowed to eat or be at the table with the family I
had to stand at the bottom of the stairs waiting to clear the table and wash
dishes. I also wasn't allowed to play with my brothers, watch tv, look or speak
to anyone. I had become mom's slave. Dad would do his best to sneak me scraps
he would try to get mom drunk thinking it would make it easier and she would
lay off but it only got worse. He would try to make deals and bargains with her
promising her whatever she wanted. He was my only hope. I could hear the midnight fights
and no matter what it was they were fighting about it came back to me. The
arguments became more frequent and dad started to pack overnight bags and head
off to work. Mom would drag me out of bed in my pjs and slap me. One plan of
mine was to lie on the floor like I didn't have strength to get back up but it
didn’t last long. She blamed me for the problems between her and dad.
By the second grade mom was pregnant again with baby number four. My second grade teacher Miss Moss took a special interest in me and was curious about my clothes, my sleepiness and my bruises. I told her what mom coached me on saying but she wasn't believing it and told the principal. Mom was having a meeting the next day with the principal to prove him wrong that there wasn't any child abuse. When the meeting was done i was missing a tooth and my nose had bled twice. When she told me what she told the principal and how she was boasting I felt so empty.
That summer we went to Russian river and I was getting along better with mom the magic was gone. While there I got in trouble for making too much nose outside and I wasn't allowed back out. When everyone left the house mom smeared one of the baby’s diapers all over my face. Then she knelt down beside me and told me to eat it. Thankfully I managed to delay long enough that I didn't eat it, it was just smeared all over my face again. That was the last time we were at Russian river.
September came and I was wearing the same clothes as last year, I was a disgrace. I at least got lunch- two peanut butter sandwiches and some carrot sticks. I ran to school every day. Food was scarce and dad tried but failed most of the time. If I was going to survive I was going to have to rely on myself. I devised a plan to sneak away at lunch and run to the store and steal cookies or whatever I could. It took weeks for my plan to become solid. I counted my steps and planned my amount of time now I just needed courage. I finally got the courage and ran to the store. I grabbed a box of gram crackers. I had hid the crackers in the garage of the washroom. Excused myself from class and ran to the restroom to eat but the janitor had emptied the garbage’s.
A couple days later I was transferred to the school across the street. This allowed me to steal from my classmates again and was running to the store once a week to steal food. I finally got caught and mom was beyond mad. Mom would scrap the food leftovers from dinner into the garbage so when I was done my dishes I would take the garbage out and dig in the bag for anything good. Mom caught me in the act and that ended that plan. I waited a couple weeks but then started to eat the garbage again. I ate some pork but after was in a lot of pain. Mom told me that she had let it sit in the fridge for two weeks to spoil before it got thrown out, I had diarrhea for a week. Mom began to sprinkle ammonia in the garbage to stop me from eating it. I was stealing frozen dinners from the cafeteria and I was so proud that I was able to feed myself. But when I go home mom slugged in so hard I fell in pain. She pushed my head into the toilet and made me stick my fingers down my throat and throw up what I had ate. She said that this wasn’t over, she went and grabbed a bowl and made me scoop out the chunks of hot dog and tater tots from the toilet. Dad came home and he and mom started to argue about how “the boy” was still stealing food. After dad lost to her I knew I was going to have to eat the chunks of puked up hot dog, I was trying as hard as I could to swallow without tasting the food. Mom was snarling to eat it, tears rolling down my face I tilted my head back to force the remains down my throat. I did everything I could to keep it down. I hated mom so much but I hated father more. He use to help me and he just stood there while his son ate something most people wouldn’t feed their dogs. That night I was made to sleep on the floor under the table with some newspapers as blankets.
By the second grade mom was pregnant again with baby number four. My second grade teacher Miss Moss took a special interest in me and was curious about my clothes, my sleepiness and my bruises. I told her what mom coached me on saying but she wasn't believing it and told the principal. Mom was having a meeting the next day with the principal to prove him wrong that there wasn't any child abuse. When the meeting was done i was missing a tooth and my nose had bled twice. When she told me what she told the principal and how she was boasting I felt so empty.
That summer we went to Russian river and I was getting along better with mom the magic was gone. While there I got in trouble for making too much nose outside and I wasn't allowed back out. When everyone left the house mom smeared one of the baby’s diapers all over my face. Then she knelt down beside me and told me to eat it. Thankfully I managed to delay long enough that I didn't eat it, it was just smeared all over my face again. That was the last time we were at Russian river.
September came and I was wearing the same clothes as last year, I was a disgrace. I at least got lunch- two peanut butter sandwiches and some carrot sticks. I ran to school every day. Food was scarce and dad tried but failed most of the time. If I was going to survive I was going to have to rely on myself. I devised a plan to sneak away at lunch and run to the store and steal cookies or whatever I could. It took weeks for my plan to become solid. I counted my steps and planned my amount of time now I just needed courage. I finally got the courage and ran to the store. I grabbed a box of gram crackers. I had hid the crackers in the garage of the washroom. Excused myself from class and ran to the restroom to eat but the janitor had emptied the garbage’s.
A couple days later I was transferred to the school across the street. This allowed me to steal from my classmates again and was running to the store once a week to steal food. I finally got caught and mom was beyond mad. Mom would scrap the food leftovers from dinner into the garbage so when I was done my dishes I would take the garbage out and dig in the bag for anything good. Mom caught me in the act and that ended that plan. I waited a couple weeks but then started to eat the garbage again. I ate some pork but after was in a lot of pain. Mom told me that she had let it sit in the fridge for two weeks to spoil before it got thrown out, I had diarrhea for a week. Mom began to sprinkle ammonia in the garbage to stop me from eating it. I was stealing frozen dinners from the cafeteria and I was so proud that I was able to feed myself. But when I go home mom slugged in so hard I fell in pain. She pushed my head into the toilet and made me stick my fingers down my throat and throw up what I had ate. She said that this wasn’t over, she went and grabbed a bowl and made me scoop out the chunks of hot dog and tater tots from the toilet. Dad came home and he and mom started to argue about how “the boy” was still stealing food. After dad lost to her I knew I was going to have to eat the chunks of puked up hot dog, I was trying as hard as I could to swallow without tasting the food. Mom was snarling to eat it, tears rolling down my face I tilted my head back to force the remains down my throat. I did everything I could to keep it down. I hated mom so much but I hated father more. He use to help me and he just stood there while his son ate something most people wouldn’t feed their dogs. That night I was made to sleep on the floor under the table with some newspapers as blankets.
I slept there under the table for months, but
soon lost that privilege and was forced to sleep downstairs in the garage. I tried
everything to stay warm but nothing worked and no one could help me so I prayed.
I prayed that I could stay strong both in body and soul!!
It was during one of my fantasies that I came
up with an idea to beg for food on my way to school. My plan worked for weeks, I
would ask the ladies if they had seen a lunch box near their house, and I would
use a fake name until one week I came to a ladies house who knew my mom. I knew
that before I had even reached school she would have called my mom, I prayed
that she didn’t call mom. When I got home after school I went and put on my
work clothes and started to do moms dishes, she came into the kitchen and stood
behind me saying we’ll see how fast you really are. When I was done the dishes
she waited in the bathroom while I scrubbed. I was waiting for her to kick me
or something but she didn’t. during dinner I stood downstairs exhausted from
moving so fast. She finally called me upstairs to start my evening chores and
she told me that only the speed of light can save me. When I was done I went
back downstairs and fell asleep while leaning against the wall. Hours later she
had called me upstairs, she had drained me physically and emotionally I don’t know
what she possibly had planned I wished she would just beat me and get it over
with, she was sitting in the dark kitchen, I had a strange feeling that she wasn’t
going to beat me but I didn’t know what to expect. She finally knelt down and
grabbed a bottle of ammonia and a spoon, I was thinking that if this was it
than it was easy! I told myself she could bring it on. After she rammed it into
my throat I couldn’t breathe, my throat seized, I fell to the floor. mother
slapped me on my back making me burp and I was able to allow big breaths of air
in.
The next night was a repeat performance but
this time dad was watching.
While cleaning the mirror I looked at the
layers of skin that were burnt away, she gave me ammonia some more times and
some Clorox but her favorite was to pour dish soap in my mouth and send me down
stairs. I started to run to the faucet and fill my stomach with water which was
a bad idea cause soon after came the diarrhea. I called mom to let me use the toilet
but she didn’t let me so I stood there was watery matter fell through my pants.
I felt so degraded I couldn’t stop crying,
I had
lost all self-respect for myself. I attempted to gather the last of my dignity
and waddled over to the sink and grabbed a bucket and sat on it to relieve
myself. The garage door opened and there was father looking at his son, mooning
him as he squatted over a bucket with diarrhea.
I felt lower than a dog.
Caitlyn Hare
3rd year Child and Youth Worker
Sheridan College
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