I stood frozen. I had watched as I walked slowly, there was a young man dragging a child, the child was screaming and pleading for the young man to let go of the grip that he held her with. But I watched as he tightened his grip that he held her with. I watched as he tightened his grip and gave no respect for the child. I watched as he ripped her clothes from her broken body. I watch her bruised and broken body fling around.
I followed her home and I heard her grandparents ridiculing her calling her lazy and irresponsible for not doing her chores. I listened to her whimpering between praying for Gods mercy. I listen to her all night. She prayed to be free. I was there always as that young girl was me.
I learned from a very early age to detach myself from abuse. I would stand and watch and offer comfort and support because at times I was all I had.
Mr. Sonny Ward my social worker came almost daily. My grandmother would tell me to smile and look happy. I did, but my spirit was broken and my heart cried. The abuse was happening right under the social workers nose. Social workers depend so much on the public and the teachers, but in my day people were so wrapped up in their problems they were not going to notice an abused child.
The teachers would fail to report abuse as my teacher would abuse me also. I would be abused for being five minutes late.
Sometimes I would look back at my life. By the time I was 18 years old I had already been through abandonment, child abuse, sex abuse and witness incest, and now to top it all off I was trying very hard to foolishly conceal a pregnancy. Some people judge me they say to me dont live in the past but for me the past stays it will never go away.
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