Sometimes we dwell on the past, and therefore we can not see our future. But it is at those times that we dwell so deep into our past our future comes up and hurts us.  Some of that darkness wants to peer out. And this is when it is hard.  We at certain times can not control it.....


I am a twenty-seven year old man whose life is surely coming
to an end. As I lay up in my bed watching TV and watching life
pass me by. I am hurt beyond words; I use to say to myself
when I was younger than what I am now man! I wish I could just
die. Funny because that seems now to be so ever true in my

When I was growing up my mom use to beat on me so bad. I
would go to school with black eyes, bruises, and broken limbs.
She didn't care until one of me teachers called Child Protective
Services on her. Oh how many a day I prayed for her death she
had no mercy on me. And she beat me because I reminded her
so much of my no good daddy.

When my mother beat me so bad I would pray that a truck
would hit her. Or that someone would kill her. Or that I would
come home and I would find her dead. Oh how I would close my
eyes before I stepped in the door putting my hands in prayer
position. "Please Lord, just let her die." But to no avail she
would still be living. And she would be sitting on the sofa with a
shoe, extension cord, phone cord, or a switch. Waiting for me
sipping on a Coors beer. I dreaded coming home I was her
straight up and down whipping board.

Then one day it happened, the police came knocking on the
door as I was getting my daily beating. I was a bloody mess!
They had done a full investigation of my mom and me. That is
social services and all, looked at all my hospital records and
the journal my teacher kept of me every time I came to school
with a bruise broke arm, limp, or black eye.

Now when the police came my mother whipped me harder.
She cried as she was beating me. Snot ran from her nose, spit
ran from her mouth. And she yelled mumbled words I could not
understand. I look back now and I believe she knew it was all
over. The police kept banging on the door. And I kept yelling,
"Please mom, please stop beating on me. I'm bleeding. My
legs have gone numb. I can't walk. I can't move my arm! “I
yelled out all of this so the police would hear me. My mother
continued, they had to break down the door.

They took my mother into custody. And took me straight to the
hospital. I was a bloody mess! And it was true I could barely
walk. And I felt as if somehow my prayers had been answered.
No more would I have to come home and get beat as a daily
ritual. My body took all it could; I was eleven years old at the

None of my uncles or aunts wanted to take me in so I went to
foster care. Something that I really didn't know too much about.
But I liked the idea of staying with a loving family that would
embrace me into their homes and hearts. At least that was what
I was told. Now as soon as I was about to be placed.
Something mysterious had happened, my grandmother from my
father's side came and got me. She told me that she had just
found out what had happened and was told all about my
misfortune and mistreatment. So I went to go stay with her In her condo.

She told me all I had to do was pick up after myself take out the
trash, and keep dishes out of her sink. She showed me how to
work and run the dishwasher and she showed me how to help
her keep a house clean. I basically lived in squalor with my mother.

My grandmother was a beautiful lady. She didn't look like a
grandmother at all. Matter of fact she looked younger than my
mother did. She was a short petite lady no gray hair which I later found
out she would give herself henna rinses to keep the gray away.
My grandmother was very active too! She played golf, tennis,
walked four miles a day and she was in a senior citizen club.
My grandmother reminded me of the ageless beauty Lena

Horne no one knew how old she was. Not even me. And that's
the way she liked it.

Now when I moved in with my grandmother she taught me how to take care of my clothes and
myself. How to be a real gentleman. Now because all I had was
school and would get the skin beat off of me if my teachers said
I cut up or got a grade lower than an A. So I was very smart I
had no choice in the matter.

My grandmother bought me all types of books. She put me in
boy scouts, I played basketball and baseball. I went on weekend
trip and I was given tons of love. My grandmother had a very
good friend at the time. His name was Roger. Now Roger
looked young so I am going to say he was way younger than my
grandmother was. He was a counselor and he helped me out
a lot. He let me talk about what I went through and he gave me
a lot of self-help books. I was really grateful for that. Roger was
a really nice guy and he took very great care of my grandmother
and me. It wasn't hard for me to be a good kid and to quickly
adapt to a loving environment. And it never felt strange at all
because when I watched TV. I saw all the hugs and kisses kids
got. And I saw the love that my friends would get from their
parents at school when they were picked up. I was never
allowed to go out and play with my neighbors.

I soon learned that my mother was in jail for so many things.
Child endangerment. One, because we lived in squalor like I
told you. The place we lived in was infested with rats and
roaches no food in the house and the abuse. My mother got
time in jail for that. And can you believe that I still loved and
missed my mother? That is really funny because sometimes
at night I would cry of how much I missed her.

I was fourteen when my grandmother was killed in a car
accident. I was saddened beyond belief! And as soon as she
died I had no where to go. I was stuck right back in foster care
and the home they sent me to was all right I wasn't abused. I
just didn't feel the love that I had received from my granny. And I
was torn, I mean really torn. I introverted stayed to myself I stopped
talking and I didn't want to play with anyone. I didn't talk for close to
two years and they thought I was crazy. I just didn't have
anything to say. I did as I was told and stayed out of everyone's

When I was about to turn seventeen in my final year of high
school. I started talking and my foster care mother had met and
married a man who was very mean to me. He talked down to
me and the verbal abuse was just as bad as the physical abuse
I had gotten from my mom. Who would of thought that my foster
father who was still legally married liked boys?  And one day when he came home from work
and no one was home but me. He beat me and raped me. Of
course I called the police and he was taken to jail. And my
foster mother put me out. I wanted no more parts of foster care.
So I ran away.

I took all my clothes and stole my foster care mother's wallet
with her credit cards. She had about $500 in her wallet. So I
figured out a way to cash in on the credit cards. And I had found
an apartment to stay in. I couldn't go back to school or they
would find me. And I really wanted to go back because that was
the only meaningful thing I had in my life. So I changed my
name and checked into another school. It was hard to check in
with out a parent. But I had managed to finagle and gamble my
way back in. Plus getting documents and birth certificates.   But I graduated and I worked a part time job.

Life was really hard for me; I mean there were a lot of pitfalls
in between my struggle. Which I'd rather not tell you all about.
But I made it and I had to move on I had no choice. I felt that
times I was going to lose it. One day as I was sitting in my
single room apartment I broke down crying. I shut myself out
from the world again. I tore that little apartment up and I broke every
dish, TV, put holes in the wall and everything. I felt that I was
hated by many and loved by none. And I felt because what had
happened between my foster dad I was now a gay man.

Once I had gained my composure, I had cleaned up my place.
Went to the store and replaced the things I had broken. And I
called Roger for help and he immediately came to my rescue. I
trusted him and I told him all that had happened to me. I was
just an inch away from taking my life. I no longer wanted to live. I
no longer wanted to breathe.  I told him all of this; I told him
that I should have never been born and that death was looking
mighty good to me.

Roger helped me to find out what it really was I wanted to do
with my life. Got me involved in some organizations that
introduced me to some survivors of the same nature. And how
they had moved on. He helped me to get a better job. And
helped me to enroll in College part-time. Roger saved my life!

I was now twenty years old. And I had one more semester to
complete before I had graduated from college. I was ready to
move on. I was ready to have the type of life my mother didn't
have. Until one day, I ran across my dad. He was looking for
me. And he found me. I had got a call from him one late Friday
evening as I was studying for midterms. He said he wanted to
see me. And because I didn't trust him. From what my mother
said about him came flooding back into my memory. I met him
up at a local coffee shop. I was petrified to say the least. I didn't
know what to expect. And I had so many questions for him. And
so many whys it was ridiculous.

When I saw my father. I realized right then there he was my
father. I looked just like him! My mother was correct in that. I
was maybe just an inch or two taller than he was. I had his eyes,
mouth, same body structure, ears, and smile. It was like I was
looking into a mirror.

I really didn't even know my father's name. Due to the fact my
granny never spoke of him at all! Neither did she have any
pictures of my father in her house. And she showed me no baby
pictures of him as well. No one and I mean no one spoke of my
father. It was like his name was taboo. All I heard from my
mother was all the negative things about him. Like he was a no
good ass man. And he wasn't shit. And he was an asshole.
And he wasn't worth a damn. I heard words like he was a
mother fucking son of a bitch. Nothing good at all. So I started to
think and feel the same way about him. This is what was said in
the conversation.

After just staring at my father for a long time. Seeing how
much we looked a like. And my eyes couldn't believe what I was
seeing. We never hugged, we never shook hands. We just
found a booth and sat down.
"So how have you been son?"
"Okay I guess. I'm sorry, but I don't even know your name."
"Chad, just like yours."
"Oh so I'm a junior. I never knew I was a junior."
"Well you are. How's your mother doing?"
"She's in jail, last I heard." He looked very surprise.
"I don't understand."
"See my mother beat me. I have suffered many broken arms,
legs, and ribs. Black eyes, and thousand and thousands of
bruises. She beat me everyday. No exaggeration on that part.
She beat me for looking like you. We lived with rats and roaches.
Hardly ever any food in the house. And I was never allowed to
play with the kids on the block. My teacher called the police,
and I was saved. I lived with your mother until she was killed in a
car accident. Then I lived in a foster home. And I was beaten
and raped by my dad. I said this as if it was an everyday
occurrence. Like telling someone what you had planned for the
day. My father's eyes were wide with astonishment. He sat
deeper into the booth. He put his head into his hands. And
when he took his hands away, tears came from his eyes.
"I never knew any of this." My father lowered his head as if he
was in shame.
"I never knew you. Where have you been? Why did you leave my
mother? Why did you let her beat me like that? She said it was
your fault." My father looked up at the ceiling as if that had the
"I was a bad man a long time ago Chad. I was no good to
myself. So there was no way I could be good to your mother.
Everything started off good. We met, grew to love each other. Or
your mother grew to love me. She was a loving, sweet and
compassionate person. That's why you telling me that she was
so mean to you it's unbelievable."
"Well it's true. I have no reason to lie. When the police came.
Some how granny found out, that is where I was. I had never met
my grandparents. And I was surprised to see her. I later found
out that my mother had forbidden granny to come over to the
house. She had gotten restraining orders."
"What! I don't believe this!"
"So are you going to finish telling me why?" He took a deep

"We were young. I wanted to go to college. And she wanted to
be with this guy name Ted. He was a very rich guy. He smelled
of money. I tried everything to get your mother away from him.
And I succeeded. I dined her. Took all the money I had to buy
her expensive gifts. Showed her a good time. And then, at the age
of eighteen, your mother got pregnant with you. Well, I was
scared. So I said forget about college, and I would join the army.
That way she could have somewhere to go. Because when her
parents found out. They put her out. And she came to stay with
my family and me. Well, one day, I had left the house. And I
never came back. I had gotten involved with something they
called crack. I went to a buddy's house that night. He was a
smoker and a dealer. We smoked that dope for two weeks
straight. I didn't bathe, didn't eat. And I didn't call home. Your
mother and my parents were worried sick. I even missed the
day that I was supposed to go down and enlist in the army. I
was now more than ever addicted to crack. I was so scared of
all the responsibility I was soon to have. And your mother was
angry with me. Telling me that she could have stayed with Ted.
Gone to college, and had a great life. Now she had been kicked
out of her home. And had to come live with my parents. And she
had no more life. Humph, I felt like pure shit."
"So what happened?"
"I called home after about a month of staying with my so called
friend. And told her I wasn't going to marry her or join the army.
And I hung up the phone. Never to call or see your mother or my
parents again. I lived on the streets, in cars, shelters. I stole,
went to jail. Did time. Drank in my depression. Smoked dope in
my depression. And my life was downhill. I found out through a
neighbor that your mom had had a boy. And what she named
you. I kept up where you stayed for about six years. Then I lost
touch. I have been clean and sober from drugs for the last
fifteen years. I am very proud to say that. I went back to school,
and I work in the IT field now. I have a great job."
"That's good for you. But not good for me. My life was a living
hell because you couldn't be a man and step to the plate. I have
had hell in my life. I can't even be with a woman. I am still a
virgin at twenty years old. I am scared that I am gay. Because of
what happened at that foster home. "
"Do you like men?"
"Hell no!"
"I'm just scared a woman will look at me and will be able to tell a
man raped me. So I do without all of that in my life. And I can't
forget what you have done. Did you know that granny died?"
"Yeah I was at the funeral. I stayed a distance away. When
everyone left. I lay on my mother's casket until they put her in the
ground. I didn't want her to be alone. I feel stupid and guilty for
not calling you are my parents. I visit my dad and mothers grave
every week. I talk to them. And I asked them for their
forgiveness. And it is my therapy to sit on their graves and talk to
them. I don't want anything from you. Matter of fact I have
something I want to give you. And he reached into his back
pocket and pulled out a white envelope. This is the money that I
have been saving for you since I have been clean. I am not
giving you the money to win you over. And I am not giving you the
money to wipe away that I haven't been there. But it's your
college money. I felt that it helped me in my struggle in not
knowing you, and not being there for you. Now you can do
whatever you want to do with it. Burn it, throw it away. Or give it
away. I don't want it. And I don't need it. And he handed it over to
me. I looked at the envelope. And then I opened it. It was a
money order for $15,560. And it was written out to me in my
name. My eyes got watery.
"I don't know what to say."
"Nothing you can say. I want to say I am sorry. But I feel that isn't
good enough. The sorry part is true. I was a sorry man. And I
won't ask you to forgive me. That would put you into much of a
bind. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a card. And
then he handed it to me. I took it slowly. If you want to reach me.
I can be reached here. I have my home and cell number on the
back if ever you want to call me or talk about anything. Or you
have any questions call me. "

I sat in that booth and stared out into the day a dreamy fix. I
couldn't believe what had just happened. I had met my father.
And I believed him. I believed what he had told me. And though I
wasn't happy about seeing him. I wasn't mad at him. I just
couldn't hold any hate in my heart. I was tired. And I had a life of
my own. And I still needed help. And the man who was close to
being a father to me was Roger.

About two weeks after I had seen my dad. I went into a deep
depression. I was at school, and I had brought some prescribed
sleeping pills with me. I had gone into the bathroom and took
twenty-five sleeping pills. I was ready to die. I didn't like life
anymore. I hated who I was, where I came from, and the way I
had lived. I was a nobody. When I woke up. I was in the
hospital with all types of tubes coming in and out of my body.
Roger and my dad were in my room. I was in ICU.

When I got out of the hospital. My dad had brought me to his
house. I didn't really want to go there. But I did none the less. My
father and Roger had packed up my house. And put all my
things in storage in my dad's garage. My dad had a huge house.
And he was single. Roger and my dad took care of me. Got me
help. And was there for me every step of my recovery. They
helped me break a lot of walls down. And once I got back on my
feet. I went back to school.

Now I had finished college. I had gotten my BS in
engineering. I must have gotten my smarts from my dad.
Because he was a very smart man. And I got a lot of love from
my father and Roger. I had even started to date women. I was
twenty-five. Life was really good for me. I was no longer a virgin.
And I stayed with my father. He had bought me a car. And we
went on all types of wild and fun vacations. Roger going with us
on some of them.

Life was going very good for me. I had a great relationship
with my dad. And I was about to get married to a lovely girl. Her
name was Tammy. She was all of that and then some. She
wanted kids, and I wanted kids. And we wanted this big happy
family. I had always practiced safe sex when I had started
having sex. Then one day it happened. I had gotten sick. So
sick I was admitted into the hospital. They ran test on me. And I
had found out I had AIDS!

I was now twenty-seven years old. About to be married to a
girl I was engaged with for the last two and a half years. I had
told her all of what had happened to me. And soon had found
out that the man who was my foster dad had died four years ago
from Aids. He had given it to me. And I was infected.

So I am laying here. Looking at the ceiling. And all the times I
had wished death on my mother and my life. And wanted to take
my life. I was finally getting my wish. Death has now become

"Just Toy"
Written Expressions



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