Chapter 3

My parents were gone again. I found myself in the custody of a new family….not new to the cult, new as guardians. The family consisted of mom and dad and two sons. I don’t know how old they were but, if I were to guess, they would have been late teens or early 20’s. The two of them not far apart in age. I remember thinking, prior to staying there, that they seemed really “cool”. Whatever that meant. I wanted to be like them. Especially the younger one because I thought he had a good name. In fact, I was happy to be placed there and may have even asked if I could stay there.

The first night would be the only night I remember. Consciously anyway. They slept in bunk beds, the eldest on the bottom, the younger, up top. I was situated on the floor in a sleeping bag. Before it was sleep time, the older one wanted to play games, which I eagerly obliged to because of my infatuation. Next thing I know, the bottom bunk had been turned into a “tent”. I remember the three of us being in there and, before my single digit brain realized what was about to take place, the older one said to the younger, “look what we’ve got”. Thankfully I can only remember the first while of that night. My body/mind must have shut down after a while.

It was lunch time the next day. All of the “sheep” were gathered together in the tabernacle partaking of the food the women had labored over all morning. I remember sneaking away from the Tabernacle as soon as we were given the dismissal instead of the usual mingling that occurred before everyone commenced the afternoon chores. I ran out the kitchen door and went to my cabin. I wasn’t feeling well and needed some alone time. I was crying in the bathroom when the older brother barged through the door. Furious that I had left lunch early, probably because he would be questioned as to whether or not he knew why, he demanded me go to their cabin. That was probably the scariest walk of my life because I knew something horrendous was going to happen. Especially because he was so angry. They had a covered porch thing before the actual door into their cabin and, as soon as I was inside the porch, away from view, he opened the main door, and literally threw me inside. The bathroom was straight ahead and he insisted I go in and brush my teeth. Well, I had forgotten to bring my toothbrush with me and, for that reason, all hell broke loose. He was screaming at me for not bringing it, calling me hideous things and then proceeded to pick me up by my hair and throw me against the wall, holding me there. He was screaming, smacking….relentless. There are two moments that stand out like beacons during that session. First one being, I remember looking through my tears over his shoulder, legs dangling in the air while being held up, and seeing his mother, quietly knitting in the living room chair. The second being, I must have heard a noise amidst all of the chaos and, once again managed to look to my left and saw my brother peaking through the screen door. I’ll never forget the moment our eyes met. Part of me longed for him to save me, do something, the other part of me knew that if he would make his presence known, he would also have hell to pay. It was a brief exchange, and then, he disappeared. It was in that moment that I knew there was nothing I could do to change any of these things and that, as long as I lived on that God forsaken cult, I would be alone. Nobody would ever listen to me, or come to my defense.

I don’t know how long he continued his tirade. I do know that, when he finally released me, it was long past the time for me to be in my classroom. He knew also. I think, looking back, Bible class, the class that I was supposed to be in, probably saved me from things getting progressively worse because he knew that someone would probably come looking for me if I didn’t go. He followed me to the Schoolhouse. All the while telling me to stop crying and what I had to say to my teacher when I got there. He proceeded to follow me all the way to the classroom door, stayed just out of sight from those inside, and waited to hear what I was going to tell my teacher. I remember trying so hard to pull my shit together and do/say everything right so as not to reap any more punishment. When I walked into the class, everyone turned and looked at me. I must have looked like a mess because, most of them chuckled. It seemed I was always the awkward kid, providing the rest with their means of entertainment. I proceeded to apologize for being late and told my teacher that I had lost my toothbrush and didn’t hear the bell ring while I was looking for it. It seemed good enough, and the class continued.

I’m having heart palpitations writing this.

The amazing thing is, that besides that, I have no conscious memory, good, bad or indifferent of them. It’s incredible how powerful our minds are. Even as children. Probably even more so as children. We can shut down so completely that memories are erased…when our bodies are put through horrendous things, we can just, literally, shut down. A protection mechanism I guess. However, in doing so, our minds create another “person”…be it subconsciously or otherwise. In my adult years, I would find myself calling that person “Little Luke”. Though there are no conscious memories, those brothers have been the cause of many night terrors. Fortunately I have been able to heal enough that they have mostly stopped. It’s been recommended to me in the past, by ex-boyfriends who have witnessed these terrors, and by some “professionals” that I have spoken to, that I do some regression therapy to help with healing “Little Luke”. I have never opted for that route because I believe that there’s nothing good in reliving something that your mind has chosen to hide. There’s a reason it has done so. The best thing to do is discover how it affects you in your daily life and then make a conscious decision to change it. To take power over them, instead of letting them control you.