Can you hear the children screaming???

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coverkindle.jpgThese are pictures of my past, but now have become pictures of my present day life. Yes, the Breese Journal, Belleville News Democrat, and even KSDK News 5 have all done articles or have shared video from local speaking events. Today even the FBI Victims Services & Citizens Academy have recognized what I am doing here locally (Clinton County Illinois) and as a Trainer in Human Trafficking, Certified Domestic Violence Advocate, Child Abuse Prevention Specialist, and ‘Steps to Recovery’ presenter; what I do to help others is a constant area of work for me today. It is crucial, as in URGENT we begin paying attention to what goes on in our surroundings and circles. There is not enough we can do independently in everyday concern and respect for another, which will outweigh what has been passed on throughout centuries in the acts of domination over another.

My story is one which comes from a life growing up in Freeburg, Illinois during the years from 1970 through 1980, a period of ten years as a child living in a publicly displayed nightmare of horrific abuse, child sex trafficking with community members; actually husbands and sons who were co-workers of my stepfather, schoolmates of my brothers, and directly related to some of my mother’s best friends. The actions of my stepfather were never hidden, as my mother and stepfather truly didn’t care, who did or didn’t know, about how they used and tortured this one middle child in their care. There were so many individuals who were involved with or knew about how I was being used that I can’t even remember how many hands have touched me. Many times I’ve been hit with memories and even shared some of the direct evils inflicted in the true story written in ‘My Justice’. What’s worse however is what has been triggered in my subconscious by permitting myself to travel back in time to reveal the ugly family secrets I’ve carried throughout my life. Those who know me from this town remember little things here and there. Schoolmates have contacted me after reading ‘My Justice’ and all share remorse about what they as children, didn’t recognize, but they remember how my parents used me, isolated me in family responsibilities that went as far as to answering the ring of that little brass bell. Some have contacted me and stated ‘I knew something was going on, but Trish, I had no clue how vicious the life you spent in that home really was.’ Sadly the adults who know my parent’s and, especially my stepfather,only one or two have reached out with words of sorrow or statement about any of what I wrote in being untrue.

Even my own mother, who is still alive, has asked but a few questions, the most ridiculous of those is, ‘How would you like me to talk about a few SECRETS about you?” Thanks Mother, that statement in and of itself validates everything I’ve shared about all that happened and what YOU took part in the training of your little girl whom you helped develop as his forced child whore. How dare you Mother? Do you see what you have done to your child? Do you see just how ugly and brutally neglecting you were? You threatened to SUE me; REALLY MOTHER!!! Step up and claim yourself as being my mother, the mother of all mothers who would allow such evil against one of your own children, but hell you never really cared about any of them!! All you were worried about was the fact you had someone to put a truly evil roof and dysfunctional views for your children. Why was I the only one you allowed him to target in these evil acts? Why was he not ever put in jail? Why didn’t some of your circle of ‘FRIENDS’ ever say a word, or what excuse did you give them for their questions? You probably told them you were the VICTIM. All you ever focused your attention on was what you wanted to make you happy. You knew you could make him do anything, or was I part of that bargain? I hope these questions reach you, since you will not permit me any form of concern or apology, you have given me VALIDATION and for that I guess I can do nothing but at least thank you for that.” your daughter, ‘Trecia Ann’ – Now I am a published author, now I have even developed my own source of business as prevention and awareness, support and information for all those communities today. Are you proud of me yet mother?

Today I find it also validating to hear from others who knew me as a kid, who share with me statements their parents made, such as; ‘I always wondered why that man was so mean with that little girl’, ‘I remember how he used to always take her with him out drinking and hanging out at the bars’. In truth, I was the girl their sons were not allowed to date and their daughters were not permitted to befriend. I was the girl that the boys, groups of them, knew they could come to, either one on one or together, to use in games of ‘Post Office’ where each one had a chance to see how far they could go and just exactly what I would allow them to do with me. There is one childhood friend who started reading ‘My Justice’ and when they got to the part about the one time I spent the night at a slumber party and the only nightgown I had was the see-through little cotton gown purchased by my stepfather at ‘Victoria Secrets’, which my mother permitted him to buy as a gift for me. Well, this friend had to throw the book down and was sickened by what suddenly became the reality of the girl she knew so well. At this time I was just twelve years old, it was his favorite age; the age where my body started to grow into a young woman, the breasts changing and pubic hair just starting to grow. It makes me sick as I think back on it even at this very moment.

Malcolm, ‘Walter in the book’, which I changed names to protect siblings; however, not a single sibling will even talk to me today. My brother condemned me a long time ago, at least ten years ago and has not spoken a word to me since. He only sees my stepfather’s trained whore when he looks at me, says my actions make him sick because I do not live up to the standards of his perfect little life. My younger sister, used to connect and was willing to talk with me about how dysfunctional our home was as a result of the severe alcoholism and mental health disorders in our parents unfolded. She would discuss her emotions of how it was for her after I left, when she was just nine. I say to them both, ‘Neither of my siblings have endured anything remotely close to the harm they witnessed against me.’  Its validating enough for you to discuss the raging alcoholic who was so vicious and the parties, which kept her awake all night.

Mona, ‘Shirley in the book’, is the mother who turned against her own child and abandoned her in the evil of his touch. She has read ‘My Justice’ and repeatedly tried to reach out and talk with me, threatened to sue me, and worst of all; ‘How would you like it if I went around a told a few secrets I knew about you? How about if I tell them how I used to have to go searching for you dirty clothes? How about if I tell them about the boy who climbed through your bedroom window and caught you having sex with him at just thirteen?’ She has not once apologized, she has never denied any of it at all. When she found out about the time he shut me up forever by using his favorite shotgun barrel to take my virginity while my brother and sister lay downstairs watching their favorite show; all she had to say was ‘That sounds like something that sick son-of-a-bitch would do’. She admits that she was warned by his own son from his first marriage about how evil and disgusting he was, yet she chose to marry him and allow him complete control over just one of her children, her young daughter who was just then five years old.

It was a lifetime of haunting by a monster. He would prowl around in the dark like a lion hunting his prey. He would beat me for having boyfriends, and stalk me even after I had grown up, had children, moved out and gone through my first divorce. He even hunted me down to smash my head against the truck window and dash, drag me across the very public street, call me every name he could think of as the neighbors watched and did nothing. The boyfriend I was dating, whose father’s house we were at, simply said; ‘He’s here for you, outside screaming your name. You really have to go now.’ This man preyed again when I was forty years old, had just lost everything I had due to an illness (Pulmonary Embolism), which caused me to be out of work and depend on credit only to take care of my children; well I ended up at my mother’s house to stay in her basement till I was able to get settled again. Guess what happened, guess who prowled around outside the basement shower room which I was told I absolutely had to use, because her bathroom with a lock on the door was completely off limits? She told me he couldn’t climb down those stairs anymore. The bed I was supposed to sleep in was the very same bed I had used as a young teen, even had the same yellow lace bedspread. She would not permit her granddaughter who desperately wanted to travel with me; Mother simply stated; ‘I am not responsible for anything that might happen, so don’t you start your shit’. SHE KNEW!!!! Mother has never denied a single event or action of her neglect for all basic human necessities. She never apologized and in fact there was one slip of the tongue when she stated, ‘You got the life you deserved’, ha-ha really Mother????

You see, I am the one left today with many broken parts still inside. I doubt they will ever fully be able to heal, and some well the scars are so deeply embedded there is no magic surgery from any specialist around that can give me back any sense of normalcy as I look at my reflection everyday. You’ll see in this brief video the horrifying skin which covers my body today. I am left with scars inside and out that will never be able to be erased or healed, the child they tried to destroy and the one an entire community allowed to simply rot away. You will be horrified by this brief video – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Rpt_oHU5NM The Rot of Abuse, uploaded by Patricia A. McKnight

We as a society continue to ignore the hundreds, thousands who are sharing stories of evil today. You can search the net and find video after video, story after story, of lives destroyed and many who are now so extremely wounded by these acts they cannot even be parents to their children. Some so broken into actual separate personalities developed to protect them from the extreme trauma they endured. I ask you all, media, literary agents, book promoters, local press, organizations who defend children or rescue them; ‘When will all of this be enough to create a society strict on its punishments and supportive in recognition of the surviving souls today?” Help share the many stories today; let no child suffer in silence and become your own defender of children. Allow their screams of mercy and rescue be heard!!!! Our children are not expendable, they are not sex objects, they are not household slaves to be beaten and tortured for the slightest infraction. They are person’s waiting for us to lead them through growing to become the next generation in charge of our society. Let the monsters be known and protect our country’s children as one united force against these types of evil. No more can we ignore their screams, their tears, their secrets being shared today.

Thank you for taking the time to read this. I pray there is a path for ‘My Justice’ and the many other survivors who are finally speaking out for their freedom and their recovery today.

Patricia ‘Trish’ McKnight

Owner/CEO Butterfly Dreams Abuse Recovery

Author: My Justice’  READ THE FIRST FIVE CHAPTERS COMPLETELY FREE!!!!

Mentor/Crisis Resources/Speaker/Child Abuse Prevention & Steps to Recovery Trainer Member: Southwestern Illinois Human Trafficking Task Force Board Development Member: Illinois Victims Assistance Network (I.V.A.N.)

(c) Patricia A McKnight

Butterfly Dreams Abuse Recovery Sept. 2012

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art via www.michalmadisonart.com

IMMEDIATE PRESS RELEASE for My Justice!!!!

It is with great honor that I am extremely happy to share the latest news and reviews for ‘My Justice’. Bookcvr1

You may be aware this is my own true story of a life lived in hell throughout thirty-two years of extreme violence, sadistic sexual attacks, repeated physical attacks, which were nothing less than attempted murder. The more crucial part of this novel is the emotional, neglectful, and mental conditioning which left me trapped in this life.

Beginning at the age of just five years old, I was viciously molested and probed by my then to be stepfather the night of my mother’s bridal shower while he was watching over as babysitter for me, my brother and two neighbor boys that evening. He took claim to me that night and would hold me as his property, his slave in all aspects of the word, for the next twelve years. His attacks would grow more severe and the entrapment I felt would deepen as the members of the community around me watched and some even took part in the trafficking of a child for the exploitation and satisfaction of this demon in the flesh. At the age of 11 he began exploiting and selling me out for the cost of a couple of draft beers. At the age of 12, when I reached out for my mother’s help, he viciously took my virginity with the barrel of his favorite shotgun; ripping my insides apart that would leave me scarred and torn without ever so much as a phone call to a doctor for medical care as I walked away dripping blood on the floor. My brother and sister were downstairs watching television during the attack, but I was held so silently with the fear of having him pull the trigger with the barrel inside me that I never spoke another word about his brutal evil until I was thirty-seven years old and in the middle of my second nervous breakdown.

My mother completely sacrificed me to this devil without ever saying a word about the bruises, the torture, or the selling and exploitation of her daughter. She walked in and found us in bed naked together with his erection ready to be inserted when I was just nine years old. In her words she repeatedly talked about the time when “she walked in and caught us in bed together”. Using the word “caught” would somehow imply that I had a say in the action and that I was the instigator of his sexual advances. She blamed me, yelled at me, and sent me to my room for the night. It was early on in their marriage that he began walking in and ‘teaching’ me how to bathe and what to wash, with instructions on how to wash the intimate parts of a child’s body. There were many times when I yelled out over the years for her to make him leave the room or to make him stop, but with her disregard of her child she allowed him to do with me as he pleased so that she would not have to be held to the responsibilities of their marriage. For me however, this would be an ongoing experience, much like his nightly visits to my room where he held me captive in silence with his coal black stained hand gripping tightly over my mouth. It was at the age of twelve that I then made a conscious decision to quit bathing completely in order to provide some measure of protection for myself. Sadly, although we had excellent healthcare insurance, the decision to quit bathing led to the filth, stench, and a skin eating infection that would rot my arms and legs away over the next four years; all of which were without seeing a physician for my care or providing so much as a toothbrush to prevent her daughter from completely rotting away. Also, during these years his acts of exploitation and selling, raping, beating her daughter into submission would continue to escalate in their evil nature. I clearly remember that one Friday late night party when the call came in for me to prepare the house for his after work party with another ten adult men and me as their entertainment, when my mother simply looked me straight in the eye and stated “have fun” as she went in her bedroom to watch television and closed the door behind her. I was his and she could have cared less. My existence in her house was simply to be the cook, the housekeeper, babysitter and family caretaker. This is all that she found useful or valuable in the child she had given birth and brought into this world.

The community in which I spent most of my life, Freeburg, Illinois was a small coal mining community where everyone knew each other and their business. I attended the same school system for nine consecutive years; Carl L. Barton Community School and Freeburg Community High School. We lived in the same town and as I grew I would work in two of our local restaurants. My point on this is still one that I have problems with today. The entire community, again all who knew me by sight if not by name, to include the school officials, law enforcement, local business owners where either I or my mother worked, the many adult men who attended the parties at our house or were at the bars where again I was the drunken child and entertainment; all of these and including even some school boys who were in attendance at many of the teen drug and alcohol filled parties, they were all witnesses to and some even took part in the vicious trafficking and exploitation of the child who was brutally and viciously beaten into submission and handed out like a party favor. They watched over the years as my body decayed; my arms and legs covered with deep flesh eating infected sores, my mouth filled with plaque covered black broken fangs from lack of medical or dental care, but NOT ONE SINGLE PERSON EVER SAID A WORD OR QUESTIONED MY WELL BEING.

This is why I share my story, why I published ‘My Justice’, why I give voice to the horrific child maltreatment and the community ignorance which left me believing I deserved nothing better and no one would ever find value in my existence. This is the ignorance that teaches our children that these acts are to be expected or seen as normal in their relationships. This is the continued ignorance that I will battle against trying to educate and build a strong front of vigilance to protect the life and well being of all living creatures, but more specifically our children and their value as our next generation. If we do not become involved with the prevention and help rescue the children who live in this hell today, our society will continue on the escalating downslide of human disregard of decency, respect, concern and mental dysfunction. This abuse and violence within our homes has become our own man-made cancer that we have allowed to silently flourish and destroy all that is good in the creation of mankind. We have stood idly by listening and witnessing repeated child brutality by their parents and caregivers. We’ve allowed them to be bought and sold as property to live a life of hell in sex slavery or tortured labor without ever giving a second thought to their purpose and value as children building the basis for our next generation.

Will you continue to watch and allow this madness to rule our existence or will you decide to become a protector of others and allow the opportunity for them to live in what is deserved, simply to live SAFE IN THEIR HOMES?

Having shared these thoughts with you, allow me to provide you with the latest update in the continued success of ‘My Justice’.

Dr. Brenda Joyce Orozco Markert-Green whose highly skilled reputation as a Family & Marriage Counselor, Owner & CEO at Afterglow Counseling, Mediation & Family Services, Trainer for American Association for Marriage & Family Therapy, Educator and Adjunct Faculty Board Member of La Sierra University, located in Riverside, California is now using this incredible novel as REQUIRED READING for her  students in the field of therapy and family counseling. Along with the REQUIRED READING she also presents them with an exam and classroom discussion about the many silent warning signs of abuse and violence in our homes and the wounds it leaves on the victims. She uses this novel to educate her students about the many mental and emotional impacts of these horrific crimes, which they then maintain in their skills and awareness for their future in family and childhood therapy, social services and other arenas of education and support. It is a huge honor to have this story be shared in such a manner to leave a lasting impression on these students. There is no higher gift which can make such a an impact on our society tomorrow and how we handle the many lifelong mental, physical, and emotional wounds inflicted by these heinous crimes which we so easily disregard.

Dr. Brenda Joyce Orozco Markert-Green, there is no way that I can share with you the amazing depth of appreciation for what you are doing and for your support in my voice, my activities, and most importantly ‘My Justice’. I so sincerely hope that one day I have the opportunity to meet you and speak with you so that I can somehow at least share my sincere gratitude. You are using ‘My Justice’ to make a definite impact on how our society will handle these issues for years to come. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Friends please share this and pass it forward in however you are able. It is crucial for all of us to come together as one strong stand in our society and bring an end and hope for rescue in the lives of our children and the positive influence we hope to leave on the next generation.

Respectfully,

Patricia A. McKnight

Author: ‘My Justice’

Advocate/Speaker/Blogger/Talk Radio Prod. & Host/Survivor

Founder: Butterfly Dreams Abuse Recovery & Blog Talk Radio Programming

http://www.butterflydreamsabuserecovery.com

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/butterflydreamsabuserecovery

References:

Dr. Brenda Joyce Orozco Markert-Green

Educator & Adjunct Faculty Member, La Sierra University

Mental Health Expert & Trainer for Family & Marriage Counseling

For more information or to connect with Patricia ‘Trish’ McKnight

please email: trish.mcknight@live.com

The Town Who Chose to Abandon the Child

Each day I am usually contacted by a survivor of Child Rape, Molestation, Brutal Physical Abuse, Emotional Battery, and even severe Neglect. It breaks my heart to know there are so many of us, especially since I always felt so isolated and alone in my recovery journey. To know that in truth there are an estimated 40 to 60 Million of us in society today who are now parents and grandparents trying to make up for what our emotional scars have passed on to our own children while we try to watch out for the children around us now.

There are many layers of recovery that we must work through and if you are one of the millions who are still struggling through the aftermath, you know exactly what this means. For me the abuse encompassed all forms; from severe disfiguring neglect to spiritual and religious abuse, to trafficking and forced involvement with many different grown men and young teen boys who I also attended school with each day.

“Crazy to think these many young boys were threatened to take part in either raping me or lining up while I was ordered to perform oral sex on them. The next day when I saw them at school however, they would whisper, tease, point and be disgusted by the very sight of me, but ot once ever spoke up about what they were ordered to take part in the weekend or night before.”

This past Tuesday I had a therapy appointment and as I was preparing myself all morning as to where I wanted to direct my discussion that day, the hour long drive to her office filled my head with the swirling tornado of anger and memories. By the time I arrived at her office I was such an emotional wreck all I could do was walk in circles in the closed little office and shake violently at the prospect of talking. There was a fire of anger inside and I honestly did not know how to begin the sentence and explain to her what was wrong. Thankfully she is a marvelous well trained and expert in Trauma Recovery Therapy and we’ve been working together almost six years now. T^o say the least however, she was still a bit shocked at my actions and when I broke down on the floor in tears she knew that whatever was going on inside was eating at me and we had to break the wall to get through.

The anger was billowing up from the gates of hell where I had trapped it many years ago. I honestly believed I had worked through all the anger issues and had nothing left inside to be angry about. I guess as I have been talking on the radio with my guests, co-host and the wonderful growing number of listeners, it seems the hellish nightmares started churning and things I didn’t think I felt any anger about came pounding down like a hard cold slap in the face.

“If you know or love a survivor or if you are a survivor; know that our emotions buried from the trauma continue to invade our present day lives because of the many layers of mental destruction caused by the attacks.”

To share with others of this new emotional breakdown, those of you who know this buried pain and how we try to avoid going back to our dark reality; this new layer of anger is aimed at the entire community who made a conscious decision to ignore and watch as a beautiful little girl rotted in the evil of her home. The town is Freeburg, Illinois, where I spent nine years of my life, living through the very worst of all the torture and blatant neglect, the trafficking and the beating. The town was a small coal mining community back then made up of farmer and miners and totaling about 1500, according to our population sign shared on the ‘Welcome to the Village of Freeburg’ that was posted at either end of the main road, Highway #15, which ran through the middle of our small little nest.

“Oh how I try to erase all of the connections to my past. My life is so good now and it has only been truly safe since about April 2002. There are days however when I just can’t turn up the music loud enough to drown out the thunder of emotions and dark horrific memories.”

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Now I know times were much different back then, after all I grew up there between 1971 and when I first left home it was 1979, then finally left the area for 20 years in 1983; not ever moving back to that community. I can’t even drive through it without having a major panic attack, but back to what I was saying.

According to PDF report, attached here, written by John E.B. Meyers, he gives an excellent break down of our country’s Child Protection Act and it’s origin.

To quote just a few bits & pieces here;

1) In the forty years between the economic panic of the 1890s and the great depression of the 1930s; the devolvement and growth of social work became a recognized profession.

2) Organized child protection emerged after the 1874 rescue of 9 year old, Mary Ellen Wilson, who lived with her guardians in New York City’s Hells Kitchen.

3) The 1960s witnessed an explosion of interest in child abuse and physicians played a key role. It was pediatrician Henry Kempe and his colleagues that published the block buster article, ‘The Battered Child Syndrome’, which played a leading role to bringing child abuse to national attention throughout the 1960s and 1970s. It was after this publication that media outlets started filling their publications with stories of maltreatment. A Newsweek article titled ‘When They’re Angry….’ quoted this:

    “For every child who enters the hospital badly beaten there must be hundreds more treated by unsuspecting doctors. The Battered Child’s Syndrome isn’t a reportable disease, but it damn well ought to be.”

4) The Social Security Act amendments of 1962 gave way to the following shared by Vincent De Francis in 1967:

     “In additions to sharpening the focus on child protection, the 1962 amendments required all states to pledge that by July 1, 1975, they would make child welfare services available statewide.”

5) The first four child abuse reporting laws were enacted in 1963 and by 1967 all states had reporting laws. As the reporting laws went into effect the prevalence and child abuse and neglect came into focus. By 1974, some 60,000 were reported, by 1980 the reports climbed to 1,000,000; by 1990 they topped 2,000,000 and since 2000 they have been hovering above 3,000,000.**In 2011 there was a total of 3,712,034 reports of child maltreatment, but only about (1/3) of them were actually handled and processed through our child protective services system.** per Federal Children’s Bureau reports from all 52 states collective CPS reporting systems.

6) In 1977, Henry Kempe, gave a lecture in which he described: ‘sexual abuse of children and adolescents is another hidden pediatric problem and hidden area.’

It is this author’s determination that while I’ve tried to excuse the problem of ignorance throughout the school officials and the community in which I grew up, you can clearly see that in the early 1960s child abuse and sexual abuse of children was becoming a nation wide media and governmental issue. You can also clearly see that each state had a least four mandated reporting laws in effect as early as 1963.

“So for the officials who were required by law to report and help the abused children they witnessed, what the hell happened to me towns people of Freeburg?”

The first and most prominent of the Red Flags I was displaying, was the severe blatant neglect. Our family had the very best healthcare coverage available then, that which was paid for by United Mine Workers Union of America. There was absolutely no our of pocket cost  at all for care. Many may remember how strong the Mine Worker’s Union was in the 1970’s. These people took baseball bats, axe handles and fists to their meeting and brawls were common with many having to go for medical treatment. Our town, Freeburg, had these such meetings because Peabody Coal, Riverking Underground #1 was the lifeblood of the community.

Now although I was suffering in the many sadistic sexual attacks from my stepfather, and yes I know that sexual abuse rarely displays any noticeable physical signs; there are still many silent signs the victims display without being fully aware of what these actually reflect.

In school my silent warning signs were like huge beams of light searching for hope of rescue. My grades went from A’s and B’s to D’s and F’s. My homework was rarely completed, but the teachers always seemed to make note of that fact and ridicule me in front of the other students.

“Are you dumb or just lazy Patricia? Boy how I”d love to have told them that I didn’t get it done because I got beaten for two hours because I put on the heavy pajamas to protect me from his roaming hands or I was busy cooking, caring for my sister, and had to spend the evening being raped by a shotgun barrel.”

Of course we all know the shame attached to this type of abuse, so it is rare that a child will ever break that silence; especially if they are being badgered and belittled by an adult. All the red flags were waving high in the sky around me. My plaque covered, never brushed, broken black fanged teeth. The rotting flesh covered with crusted filth and infected sores. The heavy stench of body odor and the unwashed stinking gym uniform was all visible to those around me, but still not one single person, no teacher, school nurse, or other school official ever questioned my care in any form. They all watched me fail at everything, they avoided any discussions or physical contact at all. The memories I have of school are all clouded by the many years of trying to hide from the world the ugliness that was now seeping from my soul and covered my flesh.

When I share that it was the entire community, I do mean all the family friends who came to our house for various reasons; the adult men who attended the late night parties which I was ordered to be hostess, toy and child drunk they could feel up and play finger games with as stepfather watched on in enjoyment and mother’s cold eyes as she walked into her bedroom and closed the door. She permitted him to use me however and whenever he chose. I was taken on their dates and fed alcohol while he tried to find a man to entertain my mother so he could teach me how to slow dance. I was taught very young, just 11, when we first went out to the bar and I was ordered to shake my ass about and use my body to entice the grown men around me.

Then of course I can’t leave out the neighbors and local police. I can’t even remember all the parties we had with drunken teenagers and cases of beer or the half barrel stored outside to keep cold. Kids walking in and out, my little sister got in the habit of charging them a dime to use the bathroom and it was a joke as too how much money she actually made at each of these events. The times when Mother took her along for weekend excursions, but left me behind to take care of the house and of course her husband.

“This is my time away and I won’t be bothered with you coming along.”

Each time she went away she would go around to the local corner bars and warn them each not to give stepfather whiskey because she couldn’t trust him not to kill her kids while she was away. Every time she came home I was covered with bruises and had to spend at least 6 to 10 hours cleaning up the mess from the fights that always broke out. Usually it was because a boy that didn’t want to take me in the next room and screw my brains out stood up and said ‘No’ to him. It could have been the nights that he got angry because I had a boyfriend so I didn’t want to do what he ordered from me.

The neighbors and the police all knew of these many parties, you can’t keep anything in a small town quiet. The folks on our street got a birds eye view of him dragging me across the road by the fist full of hair, or getting beaten in the middle of the street with his fist; perhaps the midnight dash out of the house trying to find a safe place to hide after my brothers had taken off and left me there with his raging temper. There was always some type of explosion at our house and the temper of stepfather was well known to everyone.

As I talked with my therapist the other day, she asked me what I would say to the community of Freeburg and the many who watched me be handed out and rot in this hell. I would actually love to have an article published to share my anger with them. It was suggested by her the following:

“Everyone in that town should be REQUIRED to read your book so they could feel what you lived through and hopefully open their eyes to what they so blatantly ignored.”

In truth I know I wasn’t the only child in that town that suffered the abuses of their parents, but not once have I ever met anyone else who had rotted like I did or been left so severely scarred, both physically and emotionally, in such an extreme nature. To be perfectly honest however, the words I would like to say to them could only be screamed and would be so foul that it would just lower me to their mentality, so I’ll use this writing instead to express the trapped emotions. Hopefully this will help me shed another layer of pain and begin a new light of healing.

Our society is so judgment of everyone who seems to be poor or less worthy. Our society disregards even the children of those adults who they feel are unfit. Our society damns all who have contact with such families. Our human society has no empathy, respect or tenderness for the many in our country who do not live according to their beliefs and morals.

To all of society I ask you; What morals do you have when you turn away from these vicious acts against children committed by their parents and the family friends each and every day in our country? When our Federal Children’s Bureau has reports of the statistics on these crimes and in our present day world full of information, emergency response system, federal and state child maltreatment reporting mandates, but you still use the age old ‘UNFIT’ status quo to pass your judgment on who should and shouldn’t receive your attention and who deserves to receive help or rescue. The poor of our society are not all bad parents, in fact, the reports show that the largest account for child abuse in our country is the White Middle Class who account for 43.9% of all the reported 3,712,034 calls for help to Children’s Protective Services.

“How do these reality checks make you feel now about the moral standards of mankind?”

Every soul is born with purpose, let no one keep you down by their judgment. Dream and chase those dreams, put forth the effort and no one can hold you back. No matter what the past has taught you, tomorrow is a new day and a new chance to create, build, achieve!!

~~Always Live Strong & Fly Free~~

Patricia A. McKnight

Author: ‘My Justice’

Advocate/Speaker/Writer/Talk Radio Prod & Host/Survivor

Founder: Butterfly Dreams Abuse Recovery & Talk Radio Brdcstng.

http://www.butterflydreamsabuserecovery.com

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