Three years is a long time to have your face bitten. I didn’t have huge teeth marks on my face. In fact, I just had a large dent that became quite large and sore.
The evil man only had one tooth. That was the only reason that I had one dent if he had more teeth my goodness the marks would be everywhere. His behaviour towards me was vile. He started to sexually abuse me soon after I moved in with them. I would address them by their surname Mr. and Mrs. Corker.
I should have called them Aunty and Uncle. I had no where else to go and living with them kept me off the streets and away from that so-called boyfriend of mine.
Back then you couldn’t just go and rent a room. I did ask Mr. Sonny Young if he could rent me a room but he didn’t have any so I just had to put up with my horrible life. As I mentioned before my evil foster father would come into my room every morning at 5 o’clock put the blankets over me and asked me for a kiss then he would become very rough trying to rip my clothes off and I resisted, but the more that I resisted the more violent he became.
Then he would sink his tooth into my face. I was so worried that he had make a hole in my face. He would always verbally abuse me in front of family and friends and he would slap me across my face and punched me in my mouth and made my lips bleed.
He would always do this even in front of family and friends. I remember one Saturday afternoon in front of some family and friends, he did it and they were all horrified. One of my visitors was a dear little lady named Mae Francis. She was so very kind and she would stroke my face and tell me not to worry, that everything would be ok. I never forgot Mary’s kindness and I wrote to her after I came to England and I sent her photos of my children.
She stopped writing to me and I gather that she had become ill and died. I visited St. Helena for the millennium and the stewardess on the ship told me that she had brought Mary’s house had found photos of my children that I had sent to Mary.
I was always under the impression that my evil foster father stalked into my room while his wife was asleep upstairs but I had a dream that she sent him downstairs to abuse me.
I reluctantly went to his funeral. I didn’t want to go as my aunt Sarah Yon had died around the same time. But my foster mother said that I should go to the evil foster father’s funeral. It was horrible as the priest only said nice things about him, if only I could say what the real truth was.
Secretly, I was so happy that he had died and I thought to myself no more waking up at 5 o’clock in the morning.
Life became bearable and it was so much easier having one abuser than a pair of abusers.
Life was better for me and my daughter she started to sleep better and so did I.