The darkest days

Going into this part of the blog is where I will talk more on the abuse that went on. I had talked about where the adopted mother had beaten me for lying. From that day on it seemed like I was always getting beat for everything. I use to think thats all she liked to do. What kind of parent if they didn't like something contuine to do it knowing its hurting their child. She didn't just use a rod, she went from a belt, to the rubber that goes in a glue gun, to the cardboard on the metal hangers. Whatever she could get her hands on that she knew would hurt us. The beatings got more and more unbearable. With the having to be still and not cry. The number increased all the time. The older we got the longer she went. I remember our butts and legs blistering it was painful especially when she did allow us to sit. Not only did she do from our back down. She began to do our hands which hurt so bad as well. I honestly don't know what had set her off to where she began treating us the way she had. She began to take the food we did enjoy to eat and make us things we weren't to thrilled about. She made this nasty lasgna with spinach which she made sure to stuff. She watched us struggle eating the things we didn't like. She had made peanut butter jelly sandwiches pretzels and Cottage cheese. I hated cottage cheese and always struggled when I got to it which I would get in trouble for. There were other things she would make that were hard to eat. We were giving a set time to eat which consisted of 5 minutes if we were lucky sometimes 10 mintues. She had made it to where we had to take the last bite at the same time, and it had to be in the same exact pace where we literally had to take the last bite together. We always ended up getting in trouble because that never happened the way she wanted. One by one we got a beating. She would keep any form of water or drinks from us and watch us struggle to eat with such dry mouths. She soon got tired of fixing us things to eat and watching us that she made a diet for us. I remember at one point sneaking from our room with my older sister and getting food from the pantry because we were so  hungry. We got into serious trouble for that one. She called us theives. The adopted mother said we had stolen from her. She then spanked our hands over 10 times each. Our hands hurt so bad they shook from the pain. She later fed me and my sister bread and water because we were considered thieves. So like it said in the Bible where someone stole and was in jail then got served bread and butter is what she was getting at. Our new diet consisted of pedisure she eventually put olive oil to help "fatten" us up since we were skin and bones due to poor nutrition. The pedisure Messed with my stomach since I was lactose and tolerant. We would get two cups a day. I remember one day not being able to drink it, and my younger sister drinking my cup for me. I felt so bad I could see my sister she looked like she was going to get sick. She looked out for me that day. The pedisure always made us feel like throwing up after drinking that stuff. I always dreaded when it was time for us to drink that. She began to isolate us from the other kids and just the outside world. When we did go out in public in the van we would have to sit on our hands and stare at our laps. My sisters and I eventually had to put our heads in our lap because our eyes would wonder, and we weren't supposed to look around. When we went inside stores which would always be Wal-Mart we had to hold on to the cart and stare at it. The adopted mother made it seem like we we're "special." There was a blonde lady at that Wal-Mart that would always look at us sometimes she would ask if we were okay. One of those days the response came from the adopted dad saying they like to look at the cart. The lady wasn't dumb she knew something was wrong. The foster mother liked to make it seem we had issues. That is also part of the reason she adopted all kids with special needs and disablities. My sisters and I weren't special at all. She had kids that needed braces for their legs and couldn't use their hands well. She had a boy and a girl that were litterally crippled clubbed hands and feet with breathing machines. Not for sure what the disease is called. The mother didn't even spend time with them or interact but to change their diapers and put food in their feeding  pumps. Quite sad because they lacked attention and were ones that could use it. The other kids were mentally challenged and couldn't really tell right from wrong or eat properly. She recieved a lot of money because of their specials needs and equipment they needed. She did it for the financial part which benefited her. I remember thinking she isn't capable of loving anyone but herself. Well her son to which she allowed to grow up normal. He never knew what it was like to hurt, to feel so worthless, to be accoutable for his wrong actions or be broken. He got away with so much including molesting my sisters. Which justice was never given in that situation. I had come to both the parents to let them know what there son had done. The mother of course wasn't going to let it get out or even punished. She blamed my sisters for his actions. He was the older one and knew better. This took place in the van when we went out. He got away with it. Even though I had no part in it my sisters and I ended up getting in trouble for it. When I asked why is he getting away with it, and we're getting in trouble the mothers response was
"he cried and that showed he was sorry you girls didn't." It took a couple  of years to even come to the parents about watching my sisters get molested. My sisters had processed it differently. Why was I supposed to cry? Trying to apologize for something that clearly was out of our control. This "adopted mother" never made sense. There was always something with her as to why we were always the ones to constantly getting in trouble. The way things were done had to be her way, and she was always changing it. So imagine the confusion we were in. Thinking about it just frusterates me so much. While be isolated from the family it seemed like nothing but a constant nightmare. Being isolated mean't my sisters and I being in a room locked up. We each had a desk to to sit it with the folding chairs. At the beginning of our adoption we did some schooling, but that was soon taken from us. We we're always being bad and schooling was a privilege to have. Being bad mean't doing things she told us not to do as far as not talking to each other as my sisters. Went as far as so much as flinching or looking away from our desk.While being in our rooms we had to recite scriptures. Read the bible from beginning to end. She soon made it to where we would only focus on psalms 119 and that was the daily drill. There could be no communication with my sisters. The way the adopted mother treated us with the punishments came from the bible so she would say. Everything was a sin. From disobeying, to how we acted and clothing. If we ever wore pants anything that attracted attention, tight clothes that was a sin. So she had made us each two skirts each which were matching jean type material and flowered ones. With plain t-shirts and one dress. I remember thinking. I know this isn't how love is supposed to feel and being brought up the way we did wasn't right. At the time I didn't know it was abuse. I just knew what she was doing wasn't right and rather cruel. I remember as a eight year old wanting to be dead. I would pray to God and ask him to " just please take me home. I don't want to be here anymore. To be loved isn't supposed to feel this way." I remember sitting there thinking I'll do anything to get away from this place. I will never forget my prayers or the thoughts I had during that time. I know at times I would get angry with God I couldn't understand why he would allow this to happen to me. We couldn't even have any privacy when we took showers. The mother had to be right there. She washed our hair which consisted her jerking us around in the shower and pulling us by our hair. Only thing we were allowed to do was wash our bodies. After the shower we would get dressed while she stood there and watched us. She waited so she could brush our hair. I don't know why she didn't let us do it. I dreaded when it came to that part. She was rough with brushing our hair and pulled it so tight. Then she would  jerk us around while she had a grip on  our hair in a ponytail. The privacy seemed to be a issue she just didn't trust us. Using the bathroom she had to be there. She took that privilege away too. We weren't allowed to use the restroom when we needed. She would make us hold it which didn't last long. I have a lot of issues from having to hold it or sitting in a mess. Which would be for hours the mother didn't care to be honest looking back seems like she had some kind of satisfaction from all of it. She got tired of having to watch our stuff so she made us wear pull-ups. At night in our beds we couldn't sleep with sheets or pillows. We actually had to strip our beds of anything which not long she took everything from our beds so we didn't have to do it each night and take her time up. We couldn't wear anything when it came to bed time, but just the pull up. We had to lay face down on our tummys with our arms out and legs together and facing the wall. That was the position if she found us in a different position she would come in with the rod or belt and wake us up with its harsh swoosh. Our room had a camera and alarm on the door and window. They could talk into the camera if they wanted to which at times they did. In the summer time my sisters and I had to do yard work. It would get so hot and humid we were in Texas and lived in 11 acres out in the country. It was a two mobil home that was attatch to a atrium that was build. It was set up in a L shape. They made us pull weeds around the whole house till they saw dirt. Our fingers would blister from the the weeds and the pull force of it. When the adopted father mowed he would leave the left over clumps of grass that we had to pick up and eventually rake. We would try to go up the house a couple of times to ask for water. The adopted mother would laugh and say no everytime. My younger sister couldn't take anymore so she had gone over to the hose to get some water to drink which the adopted mother saw. My younger sister ended up getting in trouble by getting a beating which didn't stop her. She ended up doing it again and again and the mother didn't even care whether she was thirsty or not she just beat my sister each time and told her she was being rebellious. How can you stop someone from having water when they're literally struggling to do the work out in the heat what seemed like fire. We all just struggled out there when it came to being in that heat from sunrise to sun down. We were told to do the yard work with no water. That night when we had taken our showers we had snuck some water from the sink at least I had. This is where I'm taking a break till the next blog.
I just want to say to anyone who reads my blog I know to some it may be hard to believe my story which I get. I've had a lot of doubt and heads turn away when I would share some of the things that went on. Even as a little girl there was no help. Due to how crazy and how intense the abuse was. It took years to really get help or someone to believe me.