Chapter 5

It wasn’t always sexual in nature. As I said before, I never really fit in to any “group” there. Too young for my brothers crew and there wasn’t anyone else my age really. So I tended to be a bit of a loner because, whenever I did end up with anyone, inevitably something would happen. Once I was old enough to go out in the fields to harvest the hay it was common practice to be thrown off of hay wagons, or out of hay lofts. One specific time I remember being told to go help bring in the hay……we grew and baled our own hay for the livestock….and fate would have it that I ended up coming back home on a full wagon with a group of guys that always taunted me. There was a bit of a rivalry between my family and another family there…it was really just a power struggle between my father and the head of that family…. and these particular boys were a couple of the sons in that family. The wagon I was put with was going to the goat barn to unload. In order to get the hay off of the wagon and into the loft in a timely fashion, the guys would line up, conveyor style, and the bails of hay would be passed from the wagon on down the line and stacked in the lofts. Well, there was an area in the very back of the goat barn hay loft that was one of my refuges and I could see that it was about to be filled in. I begged them to not fill in that spot and, after much taunting, I started to cry. I had three spots that were safe to me where I would go and hide….that was one of them. Well, I was picked up and passed down the line like a bale of hay and thrown out of the loft. All the while being told what a sissy I was and to toughen up and stop crying. Stuff like that happened all the time. In contemplating these things in my adult life I recognize a lot of this stuff stemmed from anger towards my father. They could never disobey, talk back, or take anything out on him because he was THE Leader. So, it’s my opinion that a lot of this shit was done out of spite. Obviously, then I didn’t understand that and believed that it was my fault somehow. I believed what I was constantly told…..that I was weird, that I was a sissy, that I was a nuisance.

On another occasion, a new family had joined the Cult and the father seemed like a bit of a bad ass to me so I took to following him around a bit. He worked a lot in the main garage and I would help him however I could. Get him tools, whatever. The Cult had recently purchased a new tractor. OMG I thought it was the coolest thing ever. In my curious wide eyes, it was huge! This big yellow machine that seemed to have fallen out of the sky. I watched as my brother and his friends and all the guys took turns going on rides and wishing I would be able to. I thought that maybe this new dude was my ticket. We were in the garage, he was fixing a tire and asked me to bring him a certain wrench. Apparently I brought the wrong one and he went ballistic. Started throwing shit all over the place, calling me all kinds of things, telling me I was stupid, and, of course, I started crying. He must have come to his senses briefly and realized that at any minute somebody could come around so, he calmed down and offered a ride in the truck as an apology. Of course I went. We went down towards the river and, once there, he proceeded to start yelling again, saying things about my dad, about my sisters, me, horrible things, and brought out a can of Ether. He sprayed a bit while we were in the tractor…..this particular one had a closed in cab…..and began to explain how he could kill me with it by spraying it out and locking me in the cab. He showed me the skull and crossbones on the can and asked me if I knew what that meant. Well, if I didn’t then, I most certainly did when he was finished. I was terrified. And, as quick as it had started, he just let me out of the tractor and drove off. Leaving me to walk back.

I always wanted to be able to hang out with my brother and his buddies. Every winter they would set trap lines way out in the woods and try to catch a plethora of wild things. They would bring back their bounty and show it off and I was always curious to see how it worked. My mother, bless her, would often make my brother take me with them…well, she thought she made him. Sometimes it worked and I would tag along, much to their chagrin, but other times, not so much. Once, we made it just to the edge of the cabin line and, inside one of the empty cabins I would meet my punishment. There was a broken screen door on the inside to which I was bent over backwards and met the repeated fists of each of them to my groin. Needless to say, I didn’t tag along that day. I spent hours curled up in a ball in excruciating pain.

I learned to just put up with these things because it was just the way it was. If I was going to be able to go anywhere, or do anything outside of the kitchen, or the tedious work of weeding the huge gardens, I would have to sacrifice for it. For every privilege, there was a punishment.