I have always wondered this… What have I done to be mistreated by everyone around me? I live in a small town where everyone knows everyone called Tinton. Parents tell their children to stay away from me, for I am not allowed to participate in any activities with any of them at all. I am always called:
…by the women who go to the church and also, I’m called:
“Worthless.” by the other children around my age along with other names they call me.
What did I do to deserve this? I was told by the elders of the town to always attend church every Sunday, even during weekdays. I read the scriptures in the bible and memorize them all the time when I go. I thought if I did, people would accept me… but they don’t. The elders lied to me. How could they lie, and they’re elders, let alone one of them is our church’s preacher? It’s easy for them to turn the other cheek, but I am not allowed to do that to them. For example, the other children can do that, but not me; even the adults do the same thing.
I ask them for help, but they don’t help me at all, and they ask and demand me to help, expecting me to do it and go with it. I also have seen people give me this… look. They look like they’re disgusted by how I look. Is it because my skin is a couple shades darker? Is that it? Is the reason because of who I was born and raised from? Is it also because I was raised in a broken home? That’s why. That’s the reason they call me those names.
Most women told me my mother had no morals; they called her a prostitute. My father was deemed an outsider because of his skin, even though he was born here. He was an alcoholic, a womanizer, and violent. He beat and abused women which brought about me being born 18 years ago. I was told that when I was a baby, he killed himself; slit his own throat. My mother also killed herself when I was 13. She hanged herself and the look on her face as she was dangling is etched into my mind to this day… I think it was the people in town who made her do it.
I want all the people to know that I am not like my parents! I’m not them! I’m not a prostitute like my mother! I don’t hurt people like my father did! Please just stop making me out like I’m a bad person! I didn’t do anything wrong! I do what I’m told! I am a good girl! Please, everyone, notice that I am good! I deserve to be treated fairly like the other children! I deserve to have friends just like the other kids, too! The good book I’m sure says:
“Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”
Treat others the way you want to be treated. I treat you all nicely, fairly. Why can’t you all do that for me? Please do that with me. That’s all I ask…
. . . . .
I thought treating others nicely would finally get people to trust me and respect me, but… it didn’t go so well. It terrified me when I actually put my trust in someone. This person… this guy made me believe that I could trust him. I thought he was going to be the type of person who would never hurt me, because he was well known as the repair person in the town; he was well respected. I was wrong. He was like a father figure to me; he told me that I was beautiful and special. Hearing those words from him made me feel that I was beautiful and special; it made me feel confident, but it was all lies… he took advantage of me.
I wasn’t taught that it was wrong for older people to mess with anyone my age in ways they aren’t supposed to. It happened for a few months. At first, I thought it was okay to do those things with him, well that’s what he told me anyway. I don’t know how to really feel about it. I was… confused by it and he had told me:
“If you don’t tell anyone, we could keep doing this. Maybe even do more things.”
I never understood what he meant by that, until one day…
One day, we were at his house in his living room. He told me he wanted to do something else with me which I had never done, and I was not comfortable doing at all. He then said to me:
“Come on. I promise it’ll be fun. You’ve been a good girl so far. Do you want to keep being a good girl?”
Good girl? Of course, I want to be a good girl, but I shouldn’t be forced to do this in order to be claimed as one, there must be another way than this. What he wants to do with me is not right! I told him no and that’s when I saw his face, and it looked… dark, there was no light in his eyes. It’s as if something came over and consumed him and it scared me as I backed away from He had grabbed me and… I became terrified as he started pulling up my dress. I screamed, I yelled, I pushed him away and bit his hand. I even started punching him in his face, but he was bigger than me, and everything I did didn’t work.
He forced himself on me for minutes that felt like an eternity, then stopped when he had his… thing in his hand, making it spit out its contents. I had no say and it felt like I didn’t matter. I was a tool just for his enjoyment…
. . . . .
A week later, more rumors began to spread about me. He told people that I was messing around with others around my age, and they believed it; he even told them that I was coming on to other adult men and him; saying he refused. Now I’m being called:
“Little unholy witch.”
Those were the same words that my mother had to hear before her death, and it was from those same women from the church.
…Liar. YOU LIAR! You lied about me; about us! I am now a sinner because of you. You act like the victim, but you committed the act and victimized me! Being older than me, you are the worst sinner out of everyone that lives in this town! The remainder of the innocence I had left has been taken and my heart is dark because of you, and you’re the one to blame! Not me! You’re the demon! Not me! Why?! Why would you do this to me?! I am being blamed for what you did to me, and you knew no one would believe me! And thanks to you, I can’t ever trust anybody! In the future, I hope God strikes you down with lightning or burns you in a fire! If he doesn’t, I promise to take you down myself!