"The Poor Man Who Lived Across the Way"

We were up until 3AM last night, sobbing. After the memory of the suffocation, other memories flooded into our brain. The memory I am about to share, is not my abuse, but horrible abuse done to another, that I witnessed.

Across the road, from the Haunted House, lived a Father and Son. The Father was probably in his 60's and the son in his 30's. The son was "deaf and dumb". He made guttural sounds, but could not say anything that made any sense. I was pre-school, at the time. Mother tells the story of when I was just a toddler and was found to be "missing" from the yard. Mother says after searching the entire street we lived on, she was about to call the police, when she spotted me walking up the road, the son holding my hand, bringing me home. I don't remember this incident, but I would bet anything, the Mother yelled at him and probably told him to never take me away again.

As I grew a bit older, I befriended the son. We had no conversations, of course. I remember a feeling of safeness with him. Once, he brought me a stray kitten, as a gift, I guess. No pets were allowed at the Haunted House, so together, we made a little shelter for the kitten behind the son's house. It was our secret and further sealed our bond of friendship. In my Child's heart, I loved and trusted this man. We shared more than friendship and the little kitty, I know now, it was because we shared something else....extreme abuse.

The father walked with a cane. He also used that cane to beat the son about his legs and his back. The son, due to repeated beatings, walked, well....in a crooked way. Many days, I hid behind the Berry Bush in the Haunted House yard, and cried, as I watched that father beat his son, over and over. The son would cry out in pain, in his guttural way. I remember, many times, I ran into the Haunted House, begging, pleading that someone do something to help the son. No one ever did. I was told to mind my own business, to stay away from the son. I never did. I remained his friend, and he mine, until one day, he was gone! I was told he had been taken to a State Hospital. I never saw my friend again. I remember sobbing into my pillow at the thought of never seeing him again. I will never forget him. I am sure he passed away long ago, but he remains in my heart. The kitty, well the old man, the father, killed the kitty with his cane.

I have to ask "WHY" did none of the adults in that town do anything to stop the abuse? Today, I am so angry so horrified that the neighbors just turned and looked away from such horrible abuse! My hands are actually shaking, as I type this post. Why is abuse ignored? How can people just turn away? Where is God while these atrocities are happening? I will never understand the refusal of people to intervene and stop abuse!!!!

Sueann~

"The truth about our childhood is stored up in our body and although we repress it, we can never alter it. Our intellect can be deceived, our feelings manipulated. our perceptions confused and our body tricked with medication. But someday the body will present its bill, for it is as incorruptible as a child who, still whole in spirit, will accept no compromises or excuses, and it will not stop tormenting us until we stop evading the truth".