Chapter 7
Lost in the woods
Sometimes the darkness will lead you into the light, for the light may hide the
darkness where the truth stays within its shadows. This is one of my favorite
quotes that I myself have written.
At least it was warm, as summer was fast approaching. I had run away once more
with only my boxers. Not that the clothes I had on earlier would have been any
more protection against the elements; being mostly threadbare rags. Not even a
hobo would wear or use them to wipe the snot from his nose. Not having any
friends to turn to; I sought solitude in abandon barn for the night or until I
could come up with a plan. I hated myself for leaving my brother Aaron to face
my parents’ rage on his own.
But I had nothing to offer him. No home, no one that would take pity on us and
take us into their arms and protect us from this hard, cruel world. No God, no
friends, and no parents that would provide love and nurture, nothing. If I went
to my Grandmother she might believe me, but my parents were good at lying and
they would deny anything happened. So I had my doubts she would believe me or I
thought she would just deliver me back into my abuser's hands, or worse stick
me in another bad foster home. How could I believe or trust anyone at this
point? Even the Grandmother who loved me so much?
Like I have said before; the LDS church may frown upon the abuse of any kind,
but they do nothing to stop it or prevent it. They harp on. ‘Children should
honor and obey their parents.’ Saying that we, as the victim, should forgive
them every time they abuse us; sexually or physically.’ Yet they do not
interfere with your parent's choices except to say they will be held
accountable when they are brought before the judgment seat. Does that mean I
must suffer until they die or they kill me by going too far?
I have spent many a day in the bishop’s office either alone or with my parents
in the same room. Only to have them deny that not once had they laid a hand on
me; the bruises were either done by fighting in the home or school. Only to receive another beating as soon as we
got home for bringing it to someone with authorities’ attention, there is
always a price to pay or in my case a pound of flesh. Again God was silent as I
wept for his help.
The LDS church and other religions do not teach the victim on how you are
supposed to live with the abuse; beyond calling the authorities. Which they
will may or may not place the child into another home only to be returned to
repeat the process; depending on whether they felt the parents have broken any
laws. And I know for certain other churches and religion preach the same.
Many a night I have puzzled this complex problem and have found no solution
regarding God’s divine love and have yet to see it. It is true without any doubt
I am truly alone. I may have been 13 at this particular time, but I have
studied the complex problem long enough to know what’s it's like to be “a
nobody.” Shivering in the dark; alone with my knees against my chest as the
nightmares once more became my waking dreams.
To say I hated the world I lived in would be an understatement and suffered
enough under its yoke to know. If there was a God that listened to a child’s
prayer then why had he abandoned me in this cruel and unforgiving world? I also
knew that sitting here in the dark wasn’t doing anything to help my brother. I
may not have anything physical like a home or caring parents. I did have one
thing that I could give him and that was my love. Only thing was I needed
something more than my boxers if I was planning to go anywhere.
It was too dark and I was more than tired after surviving another fight with my
father and running two miles. A good nights’ sleep would go a long way and it
would give my parents, and me time to cool off. The barn I was in had become my
home during those winter months, to the point; I knew every nook and cranny by
heart. I had made a bed of straw behind the large stacks of hay and old boards
piled along the edges. I felt safe and secure enough and out of the way of
prying eyes. I doubted anyone would find me; besides my constant companion Jeff
as he sat in the corner watching over me. As I said before he doesn’t interfere
in any way, but he is a good listener.
God may be silent but Jeff never is. It was the one thing I thanked God for
regardless if he sent him or not. When I mention him to other people like my
bishop. They don’t believe me; saying he is a delusion. Shrinks call him
psychotic break that has manifested in my mind trying to process all the
abuses. Either way, I prefer having him near me. After sleeping like the dead
through the night and part of the next. I considered it the best night sleep I
have had in a very long time. I was ready to set my plan in motion; starting
with my brother Aaron. My plan was simple as I looked outside stood a cornfield
with fresh corn right off the patch, and even better a scarecrow wearing the
clothing I needed.
My wounds were superficial as I scraped the dry blood and straw way from my
skin. Even though it hurt to move to see the dark bruises where my ribs were
and one maybe two might have been cracked. I was, by no means, a doctor, but I
had enough medical knowledge to know I would live considering I have been
through worse. My left eye was swollen shut and my jaw hurt causing me to wince
and my legs didn’t look any better, but like I said my plan was simple.
The first thing I intended to do was rescue my brother and head south; instead
of the north where they would expect me to go. Perhaps I could gather enough
supplies while my parents were asleep and hitchhike to Las Vegas. I had always wanted to see the lights and
it would be far enough away where they couldn’t find us nor would they be able
to touch us ever again. I could even get a job that would support us, my
brother and I could see the world. But first I need those clothes more than
that scarecrow.
Like most scarecrows, it was pretty standard. This one wore a red and black
checkered flannel shirt, with long sleeves better to hold the straw and give
the definition of arms. And pair of overalls that had seen better days, plus
let’s not forget the cowboy hat. I would guess to keep the sun out of his eyes
or to swing at crows stealing his corn. Either way, his clothing was just what
I needed and that was that, after a fine meal of corn and a couple of apples
from the nearby a harvest field. I waited for it to get dark I went over my
simple plan in my head.
When I was a younger I used to be afraid of the dark, and like most kids having
some sort of Mickey Mouse or Pluto nightlight; hoping that it would keep the
monsters away. I soon learned not to be afraid of the dark, but to embrace it.
I had more to fear in the light than in the shadows of darkness. There have
been times that a cemetery of dead people and their ghosts would have
frightened me, but my father scared me more than a few ghosts, besides I had
one right at my side.
As I made the long trek back I would take long breaks now and again as my
injuries made me falter and gasp for air. The more I moved the more I realized that
my ribs must be cracked not just bruised. I was having a hard time breathing as
I lay on the ground holding my sides as if they were going to burst. And dying
from the heat because of the clothing I wore, I unbuttoned my shirt; letting
the cool breeze dry the sweat off my exposed chest, while I re-rolled my pant
legs to keep me from tripping over my bare feet.
It wasn’t long before I had backtracked through the cemetery and back down the
road where my home sat among the other trailers. The moon had this way of
making things eerie as it illuminated the white metal paneling; making it glow
whiter than it normally did in the sun. It had taken me longer to get back due
to my injuries; not to mention having to stop and roll up my pant legs. Yet I
wasn’t all that concerned about the time; the later it was the more likely they
would be sound asleep. Giving me the chance to get the supplies and be on our
way before they woke the following morning.
I softly padded my way towards my bedroom window; only to be stopped seeing the
living room light on and hearing muffled voices. I crept slowly like a ninja,
well more like an injured animal huffing and puffing and gritting my teeth
because of the pain. For the first time,
I was thankful to have a cherry tree with lower limbs to hide me well enough
from prying eyes. Taking a seat near the tree so it would support my back I
begin to eavesdrop on my parent’s conversation.
“That boy! That dreadful boy! I thought you said he would never try running off
like that,” his mother said, in semi-angered voice.
“Never mind what I said; what are folk going to say when they see him like
that?” My father said, trying to resolve the issue without getting into another
argument. “You know how they are about sticking their noses into other people’s
business.”
“I know, dear. They said he would come back when he gets hungry; it’s been
almost two days. Besides, where is he going to go only dressed in his boxers;
they’re not even his best pair? People have begun to talk.”
“About what dear?”
“They are starting to ask more questions regarding all the fights he gets into;
the bruises on his arms, legs, and face. Why he’s never here; always gone for
months or years at a time. I do know one thing. If we don’t do something soon;
his brother is going to be just like him. If only he would keep his mouth just;
just look at the girls. They’re angels and barely cause a fuss anymore.”
I gasped and the anger ignited as I gritted my teeth. Angels? RIGHT! More like
devils.
“Well…all I have to say is its bad gene.” That’s what my mother had said. I
remember thinking: Bad genes? I don’t have any bad genes; according to my
Grandmother. She had said that I could be stubborn like my grandfather. This
was; however, a typical argument. I’d heard it a lot whenever they were
fighting about my so-called ‘behavioral problems’ and my Grandmother had always
stepped in to protect my brother and myself.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Your mother,” his mother said.
“My mother? What's she got to do with it?”
“She's never liked me and you know it.” His mother replied back without pause
and it was another excuse my mother would use against my Grandmother stepping
in and dealing with her raw anger and stop the beatings from happening and
bring my parents to task.
After hearing the conversation I had a lot to think about. For some reason,
they did not fear my Grandmother anymore than a fly fearing to being trapped
under a fly swatter. Or I think they mostly they kept her at bay with all the
lies and the secrets they have been keeping from her. Somehow I needed to
contact her. Perhaps once Aaron and I were far enough away and out of harm’s
way I would contact her, but what does it say about me; keeping these secrets
from her? It was a long time before I shook myself awake; finding that I’d
fallen asleep instead of kept watch; it only angered me more. I cussed myself
out and knowing the danger if I had done this while protecting my little
brother from harm; bad things could have happened and I didn’t want to
contemplate them.
Slowly I made my way back to where mine and my brother’s bedroom window was. I
had taken the ladder that sat along the side of the house where my father had
left it. I climbed up and opened the window. Padding carefully over to my
brother's bed across the room; which was a lot smaller than it used to be when
our bunk beds were attached; which didn’t last long because of my night
terrors. I somehow had managed to roll out of bed and fall flat on my back
which nearly killed me. If wasn’t for the pillow that had fallen first. I would
have cracked my skull wide open; no doubt making my parents very happy, but how
would they hidden or handled my sudden disappearance or my death? It brought a
smile to my face at the mere thought of the trouble they would be in finding me
dead. I soon regretted it as I grimaced because it hurt too much to even do
that with a split lip.
My brother was sound asleep and all I could do was stand there and look upon
his face. It seemed so peaceful, so peaceful I didn’t want to wake him. Yet I
knew if I didn’t we would never get way far enough in time before he was
discovered missing. So I began with gathering the supplies as I tiptoed
throughout the home. With my pillowcase in hand, placing can goods and a can
opener and loaf of bread into my sack; I had searched everywhere in my room for
my clothes and my shoes, and it caused my brother to wake, wiping the sleep
from his eyes and quickly shushed him placing my two fingers over my mouth and
setting my sack of goodies near his bed.
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