Part 5

A Teenager's Journey: Overcoming a Childhood of Abuse
by Richard B. Pelzer

(Page 5 of 5)

But by now the removal men had pulled into the driveway and started to load what belongings we had already boxed up. Mom and Scott were packing the car. Once they were done, the neighbors came out one by one and said their good-byes. They all had kept silent about what they had seen and heard in our house. I watched them, and I shook my head sadly. I was more than disappointed-every one of them had known what was going on and yet not one had stood up to help us.

* * *

Had this been 2006 and not 1980, anyone in the neighborhood, any of the teachers or administrators, any adult who had known what was happening in that house, would have stood up and helped me and my brothers. We have come a long way in twenty-five years. No one with a heart can stand on the sidelines and allow the kind of horrible abuse that existed in that house for so many years. Today, anyone knowing of such horror, such evil, would be held accountable. They would find themselves having to answer for their silence. Frank and Alice from next door came out and hugged each of us, then talked to Mom for a few minutes. I looked Frank and Alice in the face and sensed they genuinely felt guilty. Helen, the neighbor on the opposite side, came out, too, and said her good-byes. Even my older friend, Ben, who lived just down the street, hugged me and rubbed my hair as he often did to say good-bye. The last to show themselves were Josh and his family. They all came out and hugged each of us. Then Josh and I sat on the curb and talked about writing to each other. Josh had been my best friend all along. I was happy being around him and I'd enjoyed his friendship.

In a dead serious but gentle tone, I told Josh that I wouldn't be able to write back.

"I am going to end this nightmare once and for all," I said, as I patted the pocket that held my pistol.

Josh had seen Mom beat me and he'd seen Mom embarrass me more times than I could count. Even when I was running away from her, mortified with shame, and Josh was standing there watching in horror, he was always my friend. For years he had seen what I had gone through and tried not to make a big deal about it when I was so ashamed.

One of the more difficult and awkward situations I experienced was when Josh and I were freshmen in the same class at Westmore High School. It had to do with my smoking, which I had managed to keep hidden from Josh and his family for a couple of years. I was able to get away with smoking at school by keeping my cigarettes tucked into the top of my sock.

In the middle of class one day Josh turned to me and asked: "Did you drop these?"

"Yeah-thanks," I replied, as he handed me the pack. It had somehow fallen to the floor as Josh sat down in front of me.

He was obviously mad at me. He had commented several times how he hated the way my mom smoked and smelled of cigarettes. Having handed me the pack, he simply turned away and ignored me for the rest of the class.

I felt both embarrassed and relieved. I was sad that he'd found out I was smoking by some simple accident rather than me talking to him about it. But I was relieved that I'd only dropped the cigarettes and nothing else.

As I casually slipped them back into the top of my sock I leaned toward my other leg to check that I hadn't also dropped what was hidden there. I was relieved to discover the couple of joints and the small bag of cocaine I had stowed there.

I knew if Josh had ever found out I was doing drugs he would have written me off and never talked to me again. Thank God, I thought as I sat back in my chair and continued to ignore the teacher and everything else that was going on around me.

* * *

As we sat there on the curb outside the house in those few moments before I would leave and never see him again, Josh turned and looked at me. His face told me that he understood. He reached out and put his arm around my shoulder. I held back my tears. I was feeling the loss of a true friendship, and I knew he felt the same. But now I was being instructed to get in the backseat of our new car. Once Mom was in, we backed out of the driveway and turned down Crestline Avenue for the last time. I sat up and watched Josh out the back window as he waved good-bye. Once the car turned off the street Josh, Ben, and all the others were out of sight.

As I turned back into my seat I looked at Mom, and she glanced back at me. If you only knew what you've done to me, I said to myself as she turned back to her driving. I placed my hand over my pocket, felt the pistol, leaned back, and closed my eyes.

All I need now is the perfect place and time, I thought to myself as I drifted off.

I felt in my heart that soon enough I would be where I'd wanted to be all along: a place where I would be safe and warm, a place where I was loved, a place called heaven, a place I could really call home.

Copyright © 2006 Richard B. Pelzer

About the Author

Richard was born forth of five boys in 1965 in Daly City, California. During his childhood, Richard lived the nightmare and horrors we only hear of - known as child abuse. From his earliest memories, Richard recalls watching his older brother David being abused and was the only witnesses to his mother's attempt to kill her son and Richard's older brother. Once the California authorities learned of the unspeakable acts occurring in a suburban California home, the state removed Richard's brother leaving him and three other boys behind. Throughout his adolescence and teen years, Richard suffered physical, mental and emotional abuse at the hands of his mother.