Writing about my experiences growing up isn’t easy for me. Because it is so difficult I am kinda starting out with the milder stuff and will try to work up to more. There is a lot that I really don’t remember. I think I have blocked some of it from my mind. Other things I think just didn’t seem as important and trying to stay alive was all I could focus on at the time. I’ve often thought of writing a book, putting it all down on paper, but I just really don’t know where to begin. I just feel like getting it all out would be kind of cathartic. And to be honest, I want all of those people whoever doubted us to hear all the gory details!
I recall one night it got really bad. Don’t remember what set him off but something did. I really don’t remember much about “the fight.” I just remember Momma getting the four of us kids (I think I was about 4 years old) and running out into the dark, rainy night. We ran down the road a way and when we saw headlights coming our way she had us duck into a ditch. There were briers cutting our legs, we were wet and cold, but she told us we had to do this because if that was him coming in the car he would kill us. The car passed, it wasn’t him. We began to walk again. Another car appears and back into the ditch we go. By this time we were crying but again she told us we must be very quiet or we could die. This time it was him. He drives past. Afraid that he would come back she had us try to walk in the ditch and stay hidden. He did come back and this time he stops. We are crunched down behind the bushes. He calls out for us to come out. We don’t move, holding our breath and hoping that he will go away. Again he says for us to come out that he knows we are there and if he has to come get us he will kill us. We cried and begged Momma not to go out but she said it was the only way to stay alive.
I don’t remember much after that except going home and lying in bed, holding my breath, just waiting for another eruption of anger, praying to see morning.
At that point in my life I still wanted to live.
Volunteering With Yukon Chic 
Oh. So horrendous. I am sorry for such a frightening childhood.
You are a good writer and certainly could write an excellent book. You seem to possess natural talent. As terrible as the story is and must have been for you, I was riveted by the way you told it.
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