Don’t allow your wounds to transform you into someone you are not. -Paulo Coelho
“You taste different than your Mother,” he whispered into my ear after he came up behind me in the galley kitchen, wrapping his arms around me, pressing his body into my back. I couldn’t move. He was blocking the exit to the kitchen. I didn’t breathe. I hated feeling his breath on my neck, his tongue in my ear. His breath felt disgusting although he always made sure it smelled like peppermint. His hands started to wander to my breasts, which were still so small I’m not sure they were even officially breasts yet. I shut my eyes and said to myself, “God, please let me escape. There’s got to be a way.” In my terror I opened my eyes and looked down at the butcher knife in my hand.
I turned to face him fast, deliberately wielding the knife. He jumped back just enough and the knife was in his face. I smiled. My cute, innocent, ten- year-old kid smile. I knew the game. I knew what he wanted. He hadn’t gotten it yet, and I was determined he never would unless Kimmie was involved. I’d do anything to protect my little sister. But we weren’t there yet. We were here. In the claustrophobic kitchen with the smell of cold cuts and cats. He laughed at me, but I knew I won this round. He backed away from me, turned, and left. Finally, after what seemed like eternity, I breathed and finished taking care of those damned cats.
I was cutting up cold cut ends for those damned cats. He used to buy the meat cheap at the grocery store. So many cats. I hated the smell. These cold cuts smelled like the butcher shop. Too many slightly slimy meats all mixed together, slowly going rotten in the thick bags they were wrapped in. The cat’s litter boxes smelled of urine and shit mixed with plastic, dusty kitty litter, bleach, and ammonia. Despite pissing in the house, the cats were treated far better than my sister and I were. When he wasn’t watching, I would take bites from the cold cuts while I was cutting them. I hated the taste but loved the power of eating something he wouldn’t approve of. This man controlled everything in our lives, even what we ate.
The Monster bought cows tongue and my mother would cook it for him. He would chase Kimmie and me around the house with it. He relished the reaction he got from us as we screamed and tried to run away. I hated being touched by it. I hated that he forced us to eat it more.
Becoming A Warrior Princess
Because of this man who was my stepfather, I have an intense dislike of anyone who is a sexual predator. I refer to him as The Monster in this book. I believe in the death penalty for very specific reasons and this is one of them. I also wanted to become a child advocate. I did this by doing foster care, working in the foster care system, donating my time and speaking publicly. It’s never enough. Not just because there are so many kids that need help, although there are, but because I am constantly battling my inner demons, wanting to be vulnerable but afraid of showing my scars.
Triumph with Love
I couldn’t have known it at the time, but The Monster was building the Warrior within me. I was slowly growing stronger, smarter, and more independent. I learned to set personal boundaries. He was teaching me all the things I didn’t want in my life. This includes the type of people I didn’t want to be around. I learned how to be protective of the people and things I loved. He was teaching me to react to what felt wrong and to trust my instincts.
LEARN AND GROW
• Street smarts
• Boundaries
• Survival
These have been added to my arsenal of strengths.