Extended Weekly Snippets From: MEMOIRS OF A FORGOTTEN CHILD

(a continuation of Predatory Lines)

Excerpt #2 From: MEMOIRS OF A FORGOTTEN CHILD ebook

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Miss Isles made me feel safe, as if nothing could touch me to harm me. As if she walked around with her own invisible and impenetrable force. She gave us structure that commanded the best from us, never pushing for more than what we didn't have but never allowing mediocrity because she believed in us, period. There were times when events happened such as birthdays and holidays that left me feeling empty handed. Miss Isles went out of her way to make all her students feel included my providing gifts through the school. There was a time Miss Isles was decorating Gingerbread Men with the class, and I participated dressing my Gingerbread Man with frosting and all sorts of sugary chocolate goodness then Miss Isles told us we could eat them and I declined. She asked me why, and I responded securely that "My mother told me not to eat from strangers." She assured me that in this situation it was okay. Although I trusted Miss Isles, I couldn't risk breaking Mommy's rules then enduring the punishment so I refused. Miss Isles read my body expression and stop inquiring about why I wouldn't eat the Gingerbread Man. She simply called Mommy at work to get her permission not only that, she handed me the phone so I can hear Mommy's acceptance. See, Miss Isles didn't have to do that. She didn't have to call Mommy nor hand me over the phone but she did. She wanted to show me that I could trust her.

A few instances I would come to school without a lunch. Miss Isles took note, called Mommy to ask her if she knew about it. Mommy was embarrassed by Miss Isles's calls more than knowing the reason behind the empty lunchbox. Mommy clamored about my eating habits, she defensively replied that she sends me to school with a full lunch box of food with what the typical second grader ate; a sandwich, chips, juice, and some sugary delectable. I became numb when she inquired about the case of the empty lunch and I lied on the spot stating that I ate it in the morning. Mommy looked at me doubtfully. Askew filled her demeanor, she asked if she didn't put enough food in my lunchbox. I answered swiftly confirming "No." Truthfully it was, when Mommy dropped me off in the mornings at Funa's apartment, Dominic would skim through my lunchbox nitpicking for treats that she wanted. I remained composed; I didn't challenge her, nor stop her. I allowed her to pick through it as if I could bargained my lunch for my body than maybe she would stop raping me. I was wrong, and she continued to eat my lunch delightfully for breakfast. Mommy doubled my lunch, provided me with two tuna sandwiches (I hated tuna sandwiches but never protested against it), two chips, some cookies, and two juices. I happily approved of Mommy's decision. Dominic did too, instead of eating one lunch; she shared two lunches between her and a male friend.

I used to sing and draw, I was really good at it too, not the kind of good when your parents get teary eyed seeing you sing with your preschool class all off key. No, I mean like Whitney Houston good. No bravado, or conceitedness, thus the words LIKE and GOOD. I wasn't professionally trained, I sung by ear. I would sing anywhere, in front of almost anyone to whatever song. The first song I had ever fell in love with was Emeline Michel's "Akiko" at the age of six. My confidence level stood at negative but when I sung I became someone else. Someone significant, someone worth listening to and when I did sing I held the concentration of everyone even Mommy! I loved that feeling, the feeling of worthiness to be wanted. If I wasn't hitting notes, I was drawing. Now I could draw, not 3-D well, not Sistine Chapel detailed but good enough that people liked it. I like it, my confidence liked it. My sketches improved from chicken scratch drawings on scrap paper, to intricate pieces that I took my time on. After the rape, I found a couple of things to grab my focus where I no longer thought about the rape every quiet second. That's before the sky darken itself to night and its reflection pierced the bedroom.

The small voice in my head halted to cast spells of guilt and blame. The impulse of wanting to tell someone died down. I slowly return to normalcy with my talents, but I regressed. It's hard to act like nothing is bothering you when your whole existence is in shambles and how you once viewed the world has disintegrated, your self-perception vanishes. You can't negate that core fact. At seven I tried to. Falsely I thought it worked but the flashbacks came back, the more I try pushing them out of my mind, the longer they wanted to stay. I not wanting to address the evil content they contained. I finally gave up. I didn't tell Mommy what had happened but I no longer fought what had happened. I sanctioned it, but it had power over me, and my sole purpose was to protect it by not publishing its core content. Furthermore why put this unnecessary burden on Mommy. She already does so much for me. What will this new distressing information change what already happened? NOTHING!

- excerpt from MEMOIRS OF A FORGOTTEN CHILD by author Vie Cine Self-Published Author

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