Childhood Abuse
Author: wwc215 Total views: 16 Word Count: 576
This article is an excerpt from my book: The House On Telegraph Hill. It details one horrific experience I underwent as a six (6) year old child. It was abuse in the extreme and would be certainly considered criminal in any era and any time. My mothe was a master at "sick abusive jokes." Here it is.
It all started one winter morning. December of 1947 it was, when I was a fumbling six- year-old kid trying to get through the first grade. On that particular morning my life was about to be warped forever. As I was struggling to get dressed, I looked up to see my mother coming toward me with a small bundle of something in her hands, whispering, "Here Chucky, I want you to try these on." She knew exactly what she was doing, and what she was doing was criminal.
As she unfolded the package, a little giggling spell began to unfold. Sitting there I found myself staring at what appeared to be a small purple bathing suit...a bikini...with a matching purple and white T-shirt. Christ, it was in the middle of winter and she wanted me to dress for the beach! When she was done, I stood up and faced to full length mirror on the living room closet door, as she directed. I couldn't believe what I was looking at. There stood little Chucky Boy, some jackass in the mirror spruced up in a bikini bathing suit with his you know what hanging out! I turned to take a peek at the thing from behind and all I could see were the bare cheeks of my hind end hanging out.
After she forced my outer clothing on, I was forced out into the dark cold. She slammed the door in my face without a good-bye, leaving me all alone to face the world, the cruel world, like a man.
As I turned and went on my way, I became more frightened with each ice-crushing step. My awareness of the outfit beneath my heavy outer garb became more unsettling with each crunching plod. No one knew of the sick abusive joke that was about to play out when I got to my first grade class...except me. I knew something terrible was about to happen to I got to school; I was six years old and about to learn something about human nature, the cruelty of man.
As I walked along the frozen path, I had a pretty good idea of what was going to happen when I entered my classroom; little did I know just how bad it would be.
There I wa, a six-year-old kid being forced to defend myself against the kind of emotional gyrations that usually only adults have to deal with. All the way to school I was haunted by the reflection that had stared back at me from the living room mirror.
When I reached the classroom door, I stood in total silence listening for voices on the other side and praying that no one was in there yet. I could tell that class was already in session. I was late and that meant, and that meant that they were all waiting for me, just for me to show them what I had to offer. I opened the door and slipped inside like the sleazy worm that I was becoming.
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About the Author
The author, William W. Cairns (aka-Charles S. Wilson) is a retired electrical engineer who decided to write a book about his horrific childhood and the effects its had on his life ever since. In this article I would like to give the "audience" a sample of what was done to me one winter morning by a deranged mother. I do have a website: houseontelegraphhill (2-h's).
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