Force myself to smile

( Picture I took out my front door last week after some storms passed through. Click on picture to enlarge.)


Tomorrow I’ve decided I’m going to one of the parks around here and take a long walk. Maybe getting some exercise, and taking a few pictures will help to relax my mind before I go to court Tuesday. Things should go along fairly simple, but I’ve learned to always expect the unexpected.

My father taught me that well, you never knew what kind of mood he would be in, so I learned to always tread quietly around him and be ready for the unexpected at any moment. Especially in the summertime when he would sit bare ass naked in his recliner, rubbing his penis, and looking at me out of the corner of his eye. I didn’t dare walk past him when Mom wasn’t in the room, if I did, it meant being pulled down towards him, making my hand brush against his penis.

Mom never stopped him from sitting around naked, even when we became teenagers and wanted to invite friends over to our house. During the summer when he mostly did this, I didn’t invite anyone over to the house because I was afraid that he would do them the same way he did me.

I thought about calling Parkside, or somewhere I wouldn’t have to pay for outpatient treatment and see what they can do for me, but right now I don’t have a way to get there. I don’t have a car during the morning hours, or any one who could take me. And I can’t go in the afternoon, because I still don’t want the people around me to know. No one knows about the accident at jail, except for all the officers that were there, but not any family or friends. It’s just another one of my secrets that I wish to keep to myself at this time.

Today my mood has been pretty good. I went out shopping for a few things at Wal-Mart, and then helped my older son buy a new cell phone, which made him really happy. He has a part-time job working at Wal-Mart, so he will be paying for it himself, and so far he is doing good at saving the rest for a car. I just can hardly believe that he will be out of school next year. Time has really gone by fast.
Happy Thought for the day...
There is a big, beautiful world out there, and you deserve to experience it.

I still secretly wish for someone to lean on.

Twenty seven years ago today, I laid in a strange bed near my sister, wondering how my brother was doing, thinking about how things were going to change. I knew they were going to change, I just didn't know how bad it was going to get.

The blood on my swim suit had completely dried and was now a dark rusty brown color. It was past midnight but still could not stop thinking about things. I laid there in the dark with my eyes open just staring at the ceiling, feeling with my fingers the area where the blood had dried to a hard crust. I heard the sound of a floor creaking. Startled I strained my eyes to see if anyone was there in the dark where the noise had come from. Finally my eyes focused enough to see my Uncle peeping through the curtain that separated the bedroom from the living room. I started to speak up, but I didn’t want him to know I was still awake, so I squinted my eyes partly shut and stared in his direction. It wasn’t long before I figured out he was masturbating as he stood there staring at us while we slept.

My little sister had fallen sound asleep after Uncle Jack had giving her a bath, and hadn’t move since. I had taken a bath alone after she finished with water from a water hose that our uncle ran into the bathroom. He didn’t have a hot water tank, so the water was cold but it was just like at home, because we didn’t have a hot water tank either. Still my body didn’t feel clean, because I had to put back on the same blood clothes that I had worn earlier.

After a few minutes I heard my Uncle let a low moan, and then the floor creaked again as I heard him walk away. I tried to close my eyes and sleep, but I kept seeing images of my brothers naked body from when Mom and I had placed him in the front seat of the truck. The image would only leave my mind when I thought I heard the floor creaking again, and when I felt like someone or something was standing next to me, but nothing was ever there. I couldn’t convince my mind that things were going to be okay, and it was okay to sleep, so I just laid there all night staring at the ceiling.

My life growing up helped to form who I am.

During the time when Dustin was in the hospital, Wally had returned from Texas. He wasn't getting along with his real father and decided he wanted to come back. He and I began going with my father as he would rob various places at night. He had told us the most important thing was to never, never brag to anyone. “If you keep it to yourself no one will know but you", was a saying my father would repeat to Wally and me as we went with him to be his lookout. We were to look in opposite directions and watch for anyone coming and honk the horn if we saw any lights. He would steal batteries, tires, car parts, boats, boat motors, 3 wheelers, motorcycles, gas, cattle to butcher and anything else of value that we can across. When the eclectic and telephone companies came to put in new line, we went out several times stealing items they left laying around. He stole truckload after truckload of electric copper tubing. He would cut it up in long pieces and put them in the back of the truck until it was full. He would then take all the copper tubing and stack it in a big pile out behind the garage. Then he would dump gasoline over all of it and set it ablaze, burning off the outer rubber. Everyone would stand around and watch as my father would throw more gas on top, causing it to flame up really high into the air. After it cooled, we would all grab a piece and pull out the copper pieces to sell. We then loaded the copper strips back into the truck along with whatever else we had stolen, to sell at a place that recycled metals in Kansas. Once my father found out the type of things they were willing to buy, he began stealing more and more things. It became a regular week-end 'outing' to run to Kansas and sell the things we had stolen throughout the week.

One week-end as we were burning off some copper, someone from the sheriffs department showed up. He said he was just driving by and saw the smoke and just wanted to make sure there wasn't a big fire. My father told him we were just burning some trash out back, and he had it completly under control. The officer looked over at me and smiled. He was the same one who had come to our place after Dustin was shot. My father had talked trash about him after he had tried to talk to Richard about shooting Dustin. My father said the deputy had accused Richard of shooting Dustin on purpose and wanted to take him in for questioning, but my father didn't allow him. Now he wanted to look and see what my father was burning and again my father refused. "You get a warrant and I'll let you look, but until then I'm telling you, you better get your ass off my property". The Deputy looked at me, smiled again and then got back in his truck and left. Afterwards my father began saying how much of an asshole he was. "A man can't even make a living without some fucking pig messing it up. God damn places already have enough money", he shouted angrily then quickly went back to check on the fire. "If anyone ask you kids anything, tell them we were just burning trash. They don't need to be in our business, so keep your damn mouths shut", he said then he pointed at me, "and Tayla don't you ever let me see you looking at a cop, ever again. Keep your eyes to yourself until you can show them no fear. They can see in your eyes if you're doing anything wrong."

My father became paranoid after the deputy had came that he stopped stealing the telephone cable line and began stealing cattle instead. Just a few heads at a time. Most were young unmarked cattle from around in different areas. Some he sold for cash to friends, others he butchered and put in the freezer. We never got caught at robbing anything, so it continued for years, even after Dustin had gotten out of the hospital.

The Escape..Leaving home

I graduated from high school in May of 1984. I was only 17 years old and wouldn’t turn 18 until November, so my father believed he still had control over me until then. That summer everything was okay, until the summer school break was over, and everyone went back to work or school, except me.

Midway through August, Mom, Dustin and Suzy started back to school. Mom had started working at the school as a dishwasher, so she could be at the school to help Dustin whenever he needed her. Richard began working a part-time job that was more like helping a friend do a few things. He got paid very little and was gone most of the time, leaving me at home most days alone with my father. I tried to avoid him as much as possible by getting up early and going swimming at the pond or laying on the big rocks at my secret place.

Early one morning I could hear my father in the kitchen when I got up, so I decided to skip breakfast, headed straight outside, and disappeared into the woods. I walked up the stream that was almost completely dry, then on up to the pond. The weather was very hot and the pond water had become very low. The water was muddy where the cattle had been there earlier and moss was beginning to grow heavily in one corner. I stood on the pond bank looking at the water. As hot as it was, the water just looked too nasty for me to get in, so I decided to head towards the house. I walked in and it was 12:34 pm. I was hungry and headed towards the kitchen. I went past my father's bedroom and saw him laying naked on his bed. I walked straight to the kitchen and got something to eat to take with me. I walked back through the living room to leave and saw him sitting in his recliner, naked, rubbing himself. I quickly went to walk past him and he reached out and grabbed my arm.

"Come here", he said squeezing my arm and pulling me towards him. He grabbed my hand and put it on his penis, but I pulled away. He sat up and looked at me.
"Where you been?"
"Out walking by the creek", was all I managed to say.
"I don't want you down there by yourself".
"Why!" I said rather loudly but still with some caution in my voice.
He stood and slapped me hard across the face, "as long as you live under my roof you'll do as I say".

As I back away, he pushed me down on the couch. He walked over near me and put his penis near my mouth, holding it out in his hand.

I spit on him, rolled off the couch and ran outside. Seconds later, he came running out with a gun in his hands. When I saw it, I turned to walk away, but he quickly grabbed my hair and pulled me down to the ground. He put the gun in my face, "I ought to blow your fucking head off, you ungrateful bitch, but you're not worth the price of the bullet."

I was so scared, thinking he was going to do what he promised to do several years ago. Then suddenly I realized I didn’t care if I lived or died. I became okay with death.

"Just fucking do it you son-of-bitch. I'm so sick of your shit!” I shouted with unbelievable rage.
"You get your things and get out. You come back and I'll kill you and dump your body where no one will ever find it. You understand me!!?” he shouted loudly as he held the gun against my face.

I nodded my head up and down, and then he turned and walked away as I laid there for a moment shaking.

A few minutes later, he got in his truck and left. I had to make a plan right then and there; it was time for me to leave. I didn’t know where I was going or how I was going to get there, but I knew I had to go now or someone was going to die. I quickly went in the house and packed a few of my things. I was afraid I might run into him while walking up the driveway to the highway, so instead I cut across the backfields up to the highway. I still had no idea where I was going, but I knew I wasn't staying there another moment. I wasn’t going to let him take away any more of my breaths. I would just walk so far away, that I would become lost, I told myself.

During the walk, Mom had made it back home and was told that I was leaving home. I had made it a few miles down the highway when she pulled up behind me.

"Get in Tayla. Let's go back to the house", Mom shouted out of the window of the car.
"NO! I'm not going back to that house ever again".
"Where are you going then?"
I quickly thought and said, "To Uncle Jack's house in Nowata".
"Okay. Get in and we'll go back to the house so I can get a spare tire, I don't have one".
"No!” I yelled, "I'm not going back to that house."
"I don't have a spare Tayla Ann!” she shouted back at me.
"Go get it and come back, but I'm not going back."
"Alright. Get in and I'll take you to your Uncle's", she finally agreed.

On the way, we spoke very little. I mainly looked out my window, watching the tree's go by, and thinking. I wanted to tell her why Dad and I argued so much; why I hated him with all my heart, why I wanted to take his life and then my own. But I couldn't tell because I was afraid of what might happen. I knew it would mean he would go to jail, but not for long. My father had told me on different occasions, "If I go to jail, I'll get out and when I do, I'm going to kill you, your mom, brothers and sister". He would then quickly change his tone, "besides we're a family, you don't want to break up our family, do you? You'll never see them ever again. They'll take you and put you with strangers. Is that what you want?" He would then squeeze my arm until I said no. It made me feel like it would be my fault. I couldn't be the one who caused the division of my family. It would be another secret for me alone to keep. I just told her I couldn't take the yelling anymore and left it at that.

Twenty minutes later, we pulled into my Uncle's driveway. Mom stood outside and talked with Uncle Jack while I went inside and put my things in the extra bedroom. It had a full size bed and a dresser, with a small walk in closet in one corner and a door that opened to the bathroom. The house hadn't changed much, except it had gotten older. Inside it smelled strong of cigarette smoke from my Uncles years of smoking without opening the windows and letting the house air out. The kitchen and bathroom were in really bad shape, but nothing I couldn't take care of I told myself. I sat my things down on the bed, and then went to say good-bye to Mom.

"If you need anything just call me at the school."
"I will."
"I love you Tayla. Take care."
I told her goodbye and she walked sadly away.

Uncle Jack and I talked for a little while as we sat down on the sofa in the living room. He said it was fine if I stayed, but I would have to buy all my own food and other things that I needed. He said he would be gone most of the time staying with some friends across the street, so if I needed anything I could find him over there and he walked out the front door. I walked into 'my bedroom’, smiled and took a deep breath. I felt free.

My younger brother is shot by a 22 rifle.

The following summer on August 1, 1979, just two years after my older brother was shot at the pond, my younger brother Dustin's life would also change forever.

Everyone had gotten up early that morning. My father had left for work in the oil fields and Mom was busy cleaning house. Richard who was 14 and Dustin who was nine had decided they wanted to go shooting at turtles and snakes at the pond, then go swimming afterwards. It was my little Suzy's and my turn to do the dishes before we would be allowed to go. We changed into our swimsuits, and then continued doing the dishes. Richard and Dustin headed off to the pond with Richard's 22 that he had gotten for his birthday.

We were finishing the dishes when Richard came running into the house shouting, "Dustin's been shot!"

The same look of horror came across my Mom's face that I had seen before. Tears were streaming down Richard's face. We all looked at each other and knew it was serious. Mom raced outside and jumped into the camper truck we had at the time. She turned over the engine, but it wouldn't start because the battery was dead. Thinking quickly, Richard and Mom raced to find another battery that would start the truck. Using the battery charger, they finally managed to get the truck going 10 minutes later. Richard was drained, physically and mentality, so he stayed behind with Suzy, as Mom and I raced wildly through the pasture towards the pond. We were there within a few minutes. Mom quickly jumped from the truck, leaving it running and ran up over the steep pond bank. I was half-way up when I heard Mom let out a loud ear-piercing, heart-pounding scream. It caused my heart to beat so wildly, it hurt. I couldn't see him yet, so my first vision was of him floating dead in the water. My adrenaline flowed as I forced myself quickly up over the steep pond bank. I topped the bank to see Mom dropping down to her knee's near the water's edge. As I got closer, I was shock to see he was naked, but moving. I had expected him to be dead.

"What happened?” Mom asked him hysterically. I could see the panic in her eyes, as she began checking him over.

"Can you stand?” Mom asked.

He moaned out a low "No".

“How are we going to get him to the truck?” Mom asked as she began looking around at a way to get him to the truck as close as possible.

“You could pull up on the pond bank and drive up here real close to him.” I said pointing to the way I had seen our father do it before.
Mom began shaking her head no, “It just doesn’t look safe.”
“It’s easy, Dad has done it many times before”.
“No! I don’t think it’s safe.”
“Well what do you want to do?”
With a terrified look on Mom’s face, she finally shouted, "Tayla, just grab him under the arm and let's carry him to the truck."

“Okay,” I said then I grabbed him first up under his left arm and pulled him upwards. He let out a loud moan of pain and I started to lay him back down, but Mom had grabbed a hold of him under his right arm and we began dragging him towards the truck. As I drugged him up away from the waters edge and down the other side of the pond bank towards the truck, I could smell the blood and the pond water on him, which made me feel ill to my stomach. Blood drained from his back and chest, as we drug him down the pond bank, which caused me to almost lose my grip on him several times. Mom and I were exhausted by the time we got him to the truck. I was just 2 1/2 years older than he was and I wasn't that much bigger than him, but I managed to pick him up and put him in the truck as Mom went around on the other side and helped pull him in. Mom laid him down in the front seat, as I jumped into the back of the camper truck alone. As I looked down all the blood that had been on him, was now all over my swimming clothes and hands.

When we got back to the house, Mom ran inside and grabbed her purse. She told Richard to wait for our father to get home and tell him what happened. I washed my hands and grabbed a shirt to throw on over my swimsuit. I wanted to change but Mom said no, just get in the back of the truck with Suzy. Mom drove to the hospital in Nowata faster than she had ever driven before. Suzy and I were thrown around in the back of the camper truck as she took corners wildly. When she got there, she raced inside and quickly brought a nurse outside. Dustin was then quickly placed on a stretcher and taken inside.

The bullet had entered through his chest and exited in his back, near his spinal cord. Within minutes, arrangements were made to transport him to a larger hospital in Tulsa. Suzy and I stood in the hallway as they discussed what to do. I heard them talking saying that he was paralyzed from the waist down because he was moved.

"Who moved him?” I heard one of them say. The nurse pointed toward me, as they loaded him into the back of the ambulance, then she shook her head. I wondered if it was my fault. Was it because of me that he would never walk again?

Mom told Suzy and me to walk to our Uncle Jack's house and stay there until she got back. They were going to rush Dustin to trauma in Tulsa because there was no way they could handle it there. They loaded Dustin into the back of an ambulance and quickly took off for the 50 plus mile trip to Tulsa’s nearest trauma center. Normally it would be approximately an hour drive, but they said they could make it in twenty minutes. I watched as the ambulance drove off in the direction of Tulsa, I wondered if I would ever see him alive again.

It was almost a mile to Uncle Jack's house and by the time we got there, the blood on my swimsuit had completely dried. I quickly explained to my Uncle what had happened, then headed straight for the bathroom. The more I tried to wash the blood out, the more smeared it became. It wasn't much, but enough that it made me cringe when I looked at it.

Several hours later, the ambulance drivers stopped by my Uncles place to make sure we had made it safely and to let us know Dustin would be okay. They told us Mom wanted us to stay at our Uncles house for the night and she would come by as soon as she could. We continued staying with my Uncle for a few days, while Mom stayed at the hospital with Dustin. When she returned, she explained that Dustin would be in the hospital for a long time. He couldn't feel anything from the waist down and would probably never walk again. For the remaining days of summer, Richard was allowed to stay home by himself, while Mom was at the hospital and Dad was at work. At times, we would go with Mom to the Children's Medical Center in Tulsa. We weren't allowed in his room, so we spent the time wondering around the halls in the waiting area. Dustin spent the next year in the hospital, only coming home for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Suzy and I began staying with whoever my parents could find to watch us. I hated being moved around from place to place, but I had no choice. On week-ends, holidays, or anytime school wasn't in, I was moved around from house to house; not really knowing the person I was staying with. That was when I first began to believe that Mom knew what was going on, but she didn't say anything. Maybe she just wasn't sure, and maybe she did know and that's why she tired not to leave us alone with dad. That entire year that Dustin was in the hospital my father always took it as a chance to do something private and alone with me. Inside I felt like I was falling apart.

Lost

I began feeling as if something was wrong with me. I would lay awake night after night, wondering if he was watching me. He words echoed through my head over and over again. Not telling anyone. I kept it a secret. Secrets...SEcreTs...seCrEts..."You’re my special big girl and I love you very much." Unsure of what to think."It's our secret...You can't tell anyone...It would mean breaking up our family. We would have no place to live. I could go to jail. Then who would take care of you and your momma. A good girl is a quiet girl. I’ll give you money anytime you need it. It's our secret. No one will believe you." The words rang through my head over and over again as I saw the images from the woods. I felt this was my family. If I tell, it all falls apart. There would no longer be a family to belong too. Everyone would hate me for breaking up the family. As messed up as we were, I still belonged to something. I felt I couldn't tell. For me, the problem would always be denied.

I remain a hurt child.

People sometimes ask me how others around me didn’t know what was going on. Well, it was because my father was smart enough to know better. He was manipulative and cunning. To everyone around him he was trustworthy and respectable, popular with everyone. They didn’t see his true inner self. At one moment he could be the most loving and devoted father of the year, but then there was this little look and smile, that when I saw it I became ill. He once told me I was his best friend. The next day…

'I'll give you something to cry about.' 'Wipe that look off your face, or I'll wipe it for you.'
I don’t think my father viewed what he was doing as wrong. To him it was okay and completely natural. Doing what he did was his way of showing me he loved me. He made me feel like he really loved me and was only doing the things he did because he truly loved me for who I was. He told me it didn’t make him any difference if I was big. He would sometimes buy me things that my brothers and sisters didn’t get, and then afterwards he would tell me just to make sure I didn’t let them see what I had.

It had been our secret.

I felt pleasure when being fondled and kissed, but at the same time I felt guilty, confused and shame. When he was done he always convinced me not to say anything to anybody, it had to be our secret or I wouldn’t get any more prizes or money from him. Even worse, something really bad might accidentally happen to someone in my family.

My father made a big deal of making sure he knew when I was on my period. I didn’t understand why he always keep track until years later. He made me put a calendar on my bedroom wall near the bathroom door and mark the days on the calendar when my period started and stopped. Mom told me it was a good idea so I would know when to expect my period. However on the day that I marked my period had stopped my father always had sex with me that night outside. I was in a stage that I was enjoying the times when my father would sneak me out into the field somewhere where we could have sex. When it got close to the middle of the month if we had sex, he never cam inside of me. He knew it would lead to pregnancy so he avoided me during those times, often not looking or even talking to me. He believed he was teaching me the facts about life.

I'm down to one last breath.

It may be that my sole purpose in life is simply to serve as a warning to others.

We had just moved to a new house located deep in the forgotten woods near Verdigris Creek only the day before. The old 1930’s house was located 40 miles from any town and over 10 miles to the nearest neighbor. When you left the house you had to drive up a mile long old bumping dirt road just to reach the large metal gate that was there to keep the land private. After driving through the gate you had to drive down several more dirt roads for several miles before you finally found concrete to drive on. It gave you a feeling of total isolation from the rest of the world. All you could hear was silence when you stood outside and listened; it was nothing like the noises you hear in the city. There were no sounds of cars driving by, horns honking, tries screeching, no planes flying overhead. All you could hear if you listened closely was the wind blowing, and various types of birds chirping and singing out their warning calls to each other. At night the mating calls of different bugs could be heard at a loud echoing pitch until the sun appeared the next morning.

I shared a small bedroom that had no windows with my younger sister, who was only one year old at the time. In another bigger room towards the back of the house was my two brother’s bedroom that they shared. And of course up front in the best part of the house was my parent’s bedroom. In between the kids bedrooms and my parents bedroom there was a very small bathroom that only had a rusty old tub and toilet, next to the barely standing sink.

It was late the first night we moved in, so we weren’t able to take baths before going to bed. By the following night Mom said we were so dirty that she didn’t think there was enough water in the world to get us clean. The small hot water tank that was located in the pantry didn’t work, so water had to be heated in large pots then carried to the bathroom and dumped into the tub. My Mom gave my younger sister a bath first then my two brothers took a bath together. By the time they were done the water was so dirty and cold that I had to wait until more water on the stove began to boil. Mom finished dressing my younger sister for bed and then helped my two brothers get into bed. I shouted at Mom that the water on the stove was boiling and then I quickly went to hide out of the way.

I hated the sound of my parents carrying the large boiling pot of water to the bathroom. You could hear the sound of their feet pounding hard against the floor as they quickly carried the rather awkward heavy pot into the bathroom. Then you heard the water splash hard as boiling water was dumped into the tub that already had some cold water waiting to cool it down. The sound was always frightening when my father did it, because he would scream so loud for everyone to move the fuck out of his way, which caused your heart to rush and feel complete terror at the possibility that he might ‘accidentally’ dump it directly on top of you if you weren’t completely out of his site.

I saw my brothers were in bed already asleep when I hid part way in their room to make sure I was completely out of my father’s way as his feet pounded against the hardwood floors.
Splashhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

“Tayla! Get your butt in here and get your bath over with, so I can take a bath.” My father shouted at me through my bedroom door.

I walked into the bathroom and tested the water before I added a little more cold water. My father yelled at me and told me not to put any more cold water in because he wanted to use the water too, “and it had better not be too damn cold”.

I got undressed and slowly slid down into the water that was almost hot enough to burn my skin. But I didn’t want to make him mad, I just wanted to please him, so I did as I was told. After only 5 minutes my father began banging on the bathroom door from his side that led into his bedroom. I tried to quickly wash my hair and then dump more water over my head to rinse, but the water was still so hot it hurt. I turned on the cold water and started to add more when my father stepped into the bathroom and got really mad at me for using more water.

“I told you not to add any more water!”
“It’s too hot”, I said wanting to get out right then and there.
He put his hand into the water and swished it around. “That water is not that hot. Now hurry it up!”
“What is the problem?” My Mom said stepping into the bathroom.
“The water is too hot”, I said complaining again.
“Well, here just add a little more cold water”, she said turning on the faucet.
I could see the look of hate in my father’s eyes as he turned and walked away.
“I’m going to finish doing some unpacking, so hurry up and finished, then get in bed.”
“Okay.”

Five minutes later I was finish and standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom trying to brush out my hair. It was getting so long that it tangled easy and made it hard for my 5 year old hands to undo.

My father got mad again because I was still taking so long, that he walked into the bathroom naked and sat down in the water to take a bath. I walked into my bedroom as I continued to try and comb out my hair. I was still at it when my father had finished his bath and left the bathroom. I walked into the kitchen and asked if Mom could help me out, but she told me she was too busy unpacking and to let Dad help me out. My father heard what Mom said and he called for me to come into the front room. He was sitting in his recliner, still partly wet and completely naked.

“Sit down and let me see your brush.”
I sat down on his lap as he began trying to brush out my hair that hadn’t been brushed since the day before we moved. He pulled my hair hard a couple of times and I cried out.
“Just hold your butt still and it won’t hurt”, my father screamed at me as he tried brushing out the back of my hair.

I sat still as I could as he pulled my hair until it felt like I had no hair remaining on one side of my head.

“Good girl”, my father said I sat there without moving, barely breathing. Suddenly I felt his hand between my legs as he cupped his hand over my tiny vagina. At first I kept quiet as he continued to untangle my hair slowly. His hand then pulled my panties to one side and he tried to slide one of his fingers inside of me. It hurt really bad and I screamed out. Mom heard me scream and stepped into the front room to see what was wrong. When she saw Dad was still combing out my hair she thought I was just complaining and told me I needed to be quiet.
“Just sit still and let your daddy finish. If you hold still and it won’t hurt. And I don’t want to hear any more screaming. You’re going to wake your brothers and sister up, so be quiet! Sit there and let your dad finish what he’s doing.”

Mom then walked back into the kitchen where I could hear her putting things away in the cabinets as if she was angry at me. I closed my eyes tightly and let my father continue.
He began combing my hair with one of his hands while his other hand went back to where it had been between my legs. This time when his finger went inside of me again, I kept quiet.

I convinced myself it was all normal.

We are nothing, if not the product of our childhoods. Incomplete and somehow broken, struggling to find the pieces, and put them back together. Like a jigsaw puzzle, that’s not all there.

Well behaved women rarely make history.

Everything is always okay in the end, if it's not, then it's not the end.

My life growing up.

A cool breeze of air rushed across my face and sent chills over my entire body. Winter was coming soon. I had hated winters at that house. At times, it was unbearable. I awoke many mornings able to see my breath in the air. The older the house got, the colder it got inside. We only paid $25.00 a month for rent, so the landlord never made any repairs. If there were any repairs to be made, my father would make a whole-hearted attempt, but it was often lacking in completeness. He had attempted several times to repair the roof over two added on bedrooms that had been built on before we moved in. The one that was mine began leaking so severe that eventually my father gave up and let it leak.

My bed and things were moved up onto the original bedrooms flooring, near my sister's bed. My father bought four large pieces of plywood and nailed it to several 2'x8's that separated the two bedrooms. As the rain continued to fall inside the room, it rotted away the floor, causing it to sag in the middle. One night during a heavy downpour, it finally gave way and came crashing down.

When it did, my sister and I felt the floor in our part of the room drop a little near where it was blocked off. The next heavy rain it began dripping water near the foot of my sister's bed. We placed a bowl under the leak to catch most of the water. Within a year, the bowl had been replaced with buckets, pans and anything else we could find that held water.

When the buckets neared the top, day or night we were to empty them down the toilet or into the bathtub. My sister couldn't lift the bigger buckets, so it was left up to me to empty them; which at times needed emptied 2 or 3 times during a bad storm. We had to re-arrange our beds several times to stay dry as new leaks started. It finally got to a point where we were moved as far away as possible, but water would still splash onto the corners of our beds. At first we made a good effort at trying to keep the floor dry, but year after year, it became more and more of a losing battle. The floor beneath the leaking began rotting and sagged heavily when walking in the area. When I complained about it, I was told I needed to empty the buckets more and not let them overflow.

At the age of 13 and on the 3rd day of steady rain and being completely exhausted from empting the buckets of water all day and night, I gave up and let the rain pour in. I covered my head to block out the noise and to stay dry. When the buckets began to overflow, I ignored them and tried to sleep, but I was quickly awaken by the shouts of my father telling me to get up and empty the big bucket that was under the main leak. As I stumbled out of bed, over to the bucket, my left foot stepped in the middle of the floor where it sagged. It was an area I had avoided stepping in; now I knew why. My left foot went through the floor up to my knee and the bucket of water splashed across the floor. My father, watching, shouted at my sister to get up and help clean up the mess I had made, and then he walked off and went back to his dry, warm bed. After pulling several splinters from my leg, I helped my sister clean up the water as more was steadily coming in. We put the bucket under another big leak and just let the rain run through the hole my foot had made. I didn’t blame my parents, I blamed myself. I felt it was my fault that things were the way they were.

Year after year, the rain continued to make the holes bigger and bigger. In the winter, I could feel the brisk air coming in and blowing across my nose as I would attempt to sleep. With the holes in the floor, roof, and only plywood as walls, it was near impossible to sleep. Many mornings I awoke to see my breath hanging heavily in the air. My sister would often be asleep on the bathroom floor near the small stove that heated the bathroom trying to stay warm. My father would begin whipping her and shouting at her not to do it because she was going to catch herself on fire. As cold as I got, I stayed in my own bed, freezing and wet, to avoid being hit or getting yelled at.

I want to throw up now.

In the fall of 1976, my father decided to build us a place to play away from the house. He choose a place about half way up the driveway and off to the side of the road about 300 feet into the woods. My father used a chainsaw to cut down several small three to four inch around trees, and then he stacked them on top of one another to form a small square log cabin. I wanted to help as much as possible, but I found I was more in the way, than helpful. Sometimes, I would go with him and my brothers and watch him work on it, but mainly I just waited at the house until he had it finished. It was almost wintertime when he finally completed putting on the roof. There was a small window looking toward the direction of the house, and a small front door, made from some of the smaller limbs that had been removed from the tree's he had cut down. It was shaped like a square box approx. 8'x8' and about 6 feet to the ceiling with a dirt floor. There were gapes and holes all the way around that let the cold wind blow through, so my father brought up a large stack of newspapers and showed me how to poke them into all the cracks and spaces to help keep the cold out. While I finished stuffing the holes with newspaper, he cut down a large tree and then cut off two large chunks from the end to use as chairs; the rest he cut into firewood for the house. My older brother Richard, who was 11 at the time, helped him load up the truck with the firewood, and then we all drove back to the house. By the time we unloaded all the wood from the truck, it was getting dark out, so I had to wait until the next day to finish my new playhouse.

The next morning I got up very early and gathered up the few toy dishes I had, my doll, two old towels and an old sheet that Mom had given to me. I wrapped up all the things in the sheet, and then I threw them over my shoulder and walked up the road to the little cabin. I was so excited when I saw it in the morning light and quickly began decorating it in my own way. I stuffed more newspapers into the holes then used one old towel to cover the window. I drug the log stumps my father had cut down inside and used one for a chair and the other for a table. I spread the sheet out over the table, across my chair and then I let the rest cover the floor like a rug. I found 4 smaller logs and put them on the corners of the sheet to keep it flat and in place. I took off my shoes and sat them near the door. I used the other towel as a tablecloth, and then began setting up my dishes on the table. I sat my doll on the floor near the table and pretended to have a cup of tea with her.

I heard a noise outside of the cabin and stepped out to see my father standing near the door.
"It's time for breakfast, you better come get something to eat," he said smiling and rubbing his hand on the top of my head. I left my things where they were and walked back to the house. When I got back everyone was eating the biscuits and gravy that mom had made. It was Saturday and mom was going to town to do some shopping. Usually, going to town was one of my favorite things to do, but today I wanted to go back to the cabin and play. I convinced mom to let me stay home with dad, who was working on his truck. Everyone else loaded into the suburban van with mom to drive the 25 miles to town. I went to the kitchen and took a couple of biscuits that were left over and put them in a sandwich bag. Then I made myself a glass of grape kool-aid and headed back towards the cabin with a few more toys and a pillow to lay down with. As I walked outside past my father I heard him cuss at the truck. He looked up at me and asked where I was going.

"To play at the cabin."
"Okay. Just be careful", he said then went back to working on the truck.
"I will", I shouted back happily, and then I quickly skipped away.

Within minutes I was at the cabin. I opened the door and saw the sheet was all messed up. One of the towels I had over the window was missing and my doll was knocked over. I had remembered leaving her sitting up near the table. Since her eyes opened and shut when she laid down, I thought to myself she must have gotten sleepy and laid down; after all she couldn't very well sleep with her eyes open. I talked aloud and told her I was sorry that I had forgotten to lay her down last night, but it had gotten to be too late. I promised I wouldn't let it happen again and offered her a biscuit and a 'cup of tea'. I sipped at the kool-aid as if it were very hot tea, then I asked her how her day had been.

From outside of the cabin, I heard a noise. I sat my 'tea" carefully down, then began to get up to see what the noise was when I was startled by a knock on the door. I looked up and saw my father standing there.

"Come in", I said as he opened the door and walked in.
"You've fixed it up real nice in here", he said rubbing my shoulders and looking around.
I just smiled and said, "thank you".
"Can I play house with you?"
"Sure", I said excited, then handed him my doll's 'cup of tea'.
"Thank you. Do you mind if I get comfortable?” he asked and then sat down on the sheet in the middle of the floor. "I see you've got a pillow", he said reaching for it. He put it under his head and laid down and stretched out. "Come here beside me", he said motioning me over with his hands.

I stretched out on the floor beside him and he wrapped his arms around me. Hugging me he said, "I hope you like your new house my wife. I built it just for you."

"Thank you my husband, I love it," I said playing along and giggling at the idea.
We talked for a few minutes about the things we would buy if we ever got rich. Then he yawned real big and stretched his arms out. "I think it's time for bed, my wife." He turned and kissed me then said goodnight. He pretended to fall asleep and began snoring, so I did the same thing. After a few minutes he grabbed a hold of my hand and put it between his legs. I hesitated and pulled quickly away.

"It's okay, we're just pretending", he said, and then he put my hand back where it was.
He began squeezing my hand, making it squeeze him. He began whispering in my ear that he loved me and that when we got rich, he would buy me anything I wanted. He removed his hand and I quickly moved mine. I went to get up, but he grabbed my hand again. This time, his pants were unzipped.

"It's okay. We're just pretending. You're not in any trouble. This is just what real husbands and wives do. It's okay. Here, I'll show you."

I was still laying on the sheet and looking up at the ceiling when he pulled down my pants. He licked his finger and put it inside of me. I was so frightened, that I pretended to be asleep. He grabbed my left hand placed it around his penis. He continued to fondle me as he held my hand in place and went up and down. His other arm was around my shoulders, holding me very close. After a few minutes, he began squeezing my hand harder and I felt it get wet. He finally stopped, then turned and kissed me on the cheek. I sat up and wiped my hand on the sheet as he zipped up his pants. He drank the rest of the kool-aid, and then turned to leave.

"Thank you for the lovely evening", he said smiling and kissed me again and gave me a big hug. "Now, this is our secret, you can't tell anyone about it, okay?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a dollar bill. "If you promise to not tell anyone, you can have it", he said as he dangled it in the air in front of me.

I didn't know what to say, I just reached out and took the dollar bill.
"Have fun. I'll see you at the house later. Be careful. I love you", he said waving bye to me, and then he disappeared into the woods back towards the house.

After I was sure he was gone, I began looking for something to lock the door. I was happy I had the dollar, but I also felt angry and I didn't understand why. All I knew was I didn't want anyone in "my house" again. I took the pillowcase off my pillow and used it to tie the door securely shut, and then I sat in a corner silently thinking about what I would spend the dollar on. Every now and then I got up and looked out the window towards the house, but mainly I just sat there real quiet listening for mom to return. After several hours had passed, I finally heard a car at the gate. My heart pounded instantaneously and I began to shake nervously, unsure what I should do. I moved from the corner and hurriedly untied the pillowcase and walked towards the road. I looked up the road and saw it was mom coming, so I stepped out in the middle of the road. I began to relax and smiled real big when mom stopped. When I got in the car, my brothers and sister began showing me what they had got at the store. I became jealous when I was told I didn't get anything, because I didn't go, so I showed them the dollar I was given.

"Why did Dad give you that?” Richard asked.

Not knowing what to really say, I thought quickly and said, "Because I helped dad out".
We then pulled in front of the house and my brother immediately jumped out and asked dad, "Did you give Tayla a dollar for helping you?”
Dad's eyes opened wide, as he looked up from the truck at me. "Yes! I gave your sister a dollar for helping me with the truck", he said in an annoyed angered voice.
"See, I told you", I piped up quickly; determined to be one up on my brother.
"Get the car unloaded kids. Let's go!” Mom shouted towards us.

Pushing what had happened aside. I began carrying the packages into the house. I wanted to say something, but what would I say? I had just agreed with Dad, in front of everyone that he had given me the dollar for helping him with the truck. I felt if I said something different now, they would think I was lying. I was about to turn 10 years old and didn't understand it myself. He had said it was our secret and I couldn't tell anyone. Besides, we were just pretending, right? I pushed it all to the back of my mind and left it there.

I didn't return to the cabin until almost a month later when everyone, including my father, went to town. I told Mom I didn’t feel good and wanted to stay home alone even though they were going to be gone for several hours. I watched shows on T.V. that I usually wouldn’t be allowed to watch and then I played the stereo as loud as possible. Becoming bored I decided to return to the cabin and get my doll that I had left there almost a month before. I had been too frightened to return before, but now that I knew everyone would be gone for awhile I felt safe enough to return.

When I walked inside, I saw everything was a big mess. The sheet was dirty, nasty smelling and laid crumpled in a corner. The chair and table logs were knocked over, most of the newspapers were missing or laid scattered on the floor and my toy dishes were all broken and smashed. Looking around, I finally found my doll under some newspapers and the pillow. Her hair was pulled out on one side and there was a hole cut out from between her legs, and it smelled really bad. I walked outside with my once favorite doll in my hands and angrily through it down on the ground near a bush.

I hated the cabin, I wanted it gone. I began pushing the sides and trying to pull out some of the smaller logs. I had managed to tear the door off when it suddenly all came crashing down. It was now nothing more than a pile of old logs. I removed a lighter that I had hidden and picking up a piece of newspaper, I lit it and then shoved it under the pile of logs. Within minutes the stack of logs was blazing. I stood there watching the flames. The grass around the cabin tried to catch on fire, but I quickly put it out and continued to watch until there was nothing but a small flame left and a few remaining pieces of wood. It gave me a feeling of being in control of what was happening and I enjoyed it very much. It was the first fire I would set. It gave such a cleansing effect; everything was then fresh and new. The satisfaction that I felt afterwards is unlike anything I have every experienced. For the next few weeks, I reviewed the images in my mind several times, causing me to smile and feel good when I thought about what I had done.
Weeks later my father asked what happened to the cabin. I pretended as if I didn't know what happened. He finally concluded that lighten must have struck it and caught it on fire. Secretly, I smiled to myself; it was my secret and no one else’s.