Childhood Nightmares And Adult Fears

By Rose Keaton

Childhood Nightmares and Adult Fears goes back to the beginning of not understanding what was really going on. The chilling, horrifying memory is our stepmother leaving to go find our biological mother to get us the help we needed to survive.

All my life, he always told my siblings and me she was dead or in a mental home. This was an unbelievable shock, then we learned that our stepmother didn't make it to our mother. She was murdered. We didn't witness it. At the same time we learned the truth and much more. The horror of learning what I once didn't understand that our father was the perpetrator. My nightmare is a tall shadow of a man with a hat on his head carrying me naked in his arms as I sniffed and cried softly as he walks toward the bed. This tells me that something did happen. During my adulthood, my fear was always something going wrong when I allow unhealthy men into my life, and I walked into a road of destruction when I saw a sign in my mind that read "Welcome to the Fast Life." Everything that I would never do you could say it became my very own manifestation. I couldn't escape. This is my true story of how I struggled to succeed and survive my trauma never giving up on myself.

144

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781649522269

Book preview

Chapter 1

In the Beginning

It was a very hot day during the summer. I never forgot my stay with my grandmother, Ida Mae Ledbetter, my father’s mother. My sister that is a year older than myself stayed with her. At a young age, Grandma had a big white porch and a garden. My other two sisters stayed up the street with their nanny Odessa. During this time, we lived in Kansas City, Missouri.

I believe it had to be close to the Fourth of July because I remember my sister and myself playing with the sparkles and my grandparents watching us play with the sparkles. We wanted to go up the street to play with our sisters and were told they were sick with the measles and we could get it and become sick. One day, Grandma baked some sweet potato pies to sell to the neighbor that lived down the street, and we were told to take them to her. The house was on the same side of our loving grandmother’s house. We never had to cross the street. We left with the pies and stopped and hid in the bushes, and we ate them. Oh my God. We were too sick. We cried to Grandma that our stomach hurt when we returned.

She already knew that we did not take the two pies to the neighbor, and we got our bottoms whipped for that. Later, our grandma pampered us. She was brown skinned with two gray French braids on top of her head. She was big busted. Many nights I rested my head on her chest and went to sleep. My grandfather was very quiet and nice. I believe he was our stepgrandfather. I can remember she always had fresh fruit on the table and a very beautiful black doll sitting on the couch. She had on a pretty pink dress with a satin blue ribbon, and on this white card it read, Hold my hand and I will walk with you!

Grandma said she’s here when you’re not here and one day she will be yours. Grandma would watch me. I was not allowed to play with her. I always touched her, saying, Hi, Betty. That was her name. I remember my father coming to visit in a black car. I were told as an adult he’s not our real father yet. He was the only father I know. It was a time when my sister and myself stayed with the nanny Odessa. She was very weird. There were times when she did paranormal stuff, such as throwing water toward us and saying things as if she were casting spells. She was very evil. I believe we got to go over to play with our sisters. Perhaps they thought they were well, and we got sick too. Then there was my half brother. My memory of him is him teaching me a song and playing the guitar. It was called Dream Lover. The way he taught me the lyrics was his way. He would say, Dream lover, where are you? I would say, Upstairs in the toilet stool. He would say, What you doing way up there. I would say, Cleaning out my underwear, then he went back to the original lyrics. I always thought that was just a dream until I learned that I really had a half brother, my father’s son.

My father dressed like he were in a 1920s movie. My memory of my biological mother, I don’t have around that time. I was an infant. My older sisters said we stayed with her for a good while and eventually she lost custody. I learned from my sisters that one day she was cooking some beans and my three sisters climbed on top of the stove to look at the beans boil, and the stove tipped over on them. One sister was burned on her feet, another one was burned on her side, and the other one was severely burned on both legs and had to get skin graft. I was told she stayed in the hospital for a long time. That is how he got custody. Perhaps they were once married and separated. We never met any of his family members.

I do recall going to the prison to see his brother. As a child, we set at the picnic table. I also saw a picture of a beautiful woman. I asked my grandmother who she was. That is when she said that was my aunt. I don’t know why they did not come around or what took place. All I know is that I love my grandmother. My father’s mother’s maiden name must have been Knight, which I’m not sure. He had several aliases: (1) William C. Knight; (2)Bill Clark; (3) the name William Downing Knight is on the marriage certificate, but my sister believes he’s a different person; and (4) Donald Clark.

His nickname was Chief. I learned as an adult they all were the same person. I carry the name Knight. Our father was known as a legend in his time. People were afraid of him, and he was told not to come back to KCMO. This is how we came to live in Omaha, Nebraska, perhaps.

I believe he was well-known there with the name Clark, then he went with Knight. Whatever way it went, he was the only father I know. I also learned he may had been on the run from the law for killing four men. This is what one of my sisters said later in life. I learned from my half brother that he killed his mother during that time. We didn’t know our mother’s family at that time. My sister feels that he took us from our mother to keep her from talking. I still feel it’s all a mystery of how he truly got custody of the five siblings. We were never considered missing children.

If that’s the truth, she never reported us missing, nor did she come after us. There were so many different stories that I heard as an adult. He couldn’t have stolen us. We never were on any milk carton, nor did her family help her to get her children back. As a mother, it had to be very detrimental for her. Then again, she didn’t come after us. She was just afraid I have no memory of my mother. My father always spoke of her being dead or in a mental hospital. He would always laugh when he spoke of her in that fashion.

The only other memory I have living in KCMO while with my grandmother is playing in her garden with my sister. We would play with the snakes, letting them crawl over us. Grandma would scream at us to get away from those snakes. Today, I’m very terrified of snakes. I was born in KCMO and raised in Omaha, Nebraska. I have three sisters and six brothers. I also have two half brothers on my father’s side. I was raised with my three sisters and one brother.

I’m not the youngest child, just the youngest sister. We were raised by my father and stepmother. They both were severe alcoholics. My memory of my mother is vague, yet I know her in my heart. I remember my stepmother always reminded us that she wasn’t our real mother. I never had a problem with that because I always felt nobody could take my mother’s place.

We all called her by her name Annie Mae. She was younger than my father and very beautiful. She was a nurse aide and worked at the Douglas Hospital. I remember her taking my brother and myself there one day. I don’t remember why. At the same time, we witnessed a man getting electrocuted by lightning. I cried for hours, saying I wanted to go home.

I grew up with three older sisters and one brother under my stepmother. She had her pick in us children. My oldest sister and brother were her favorites. She taught my sister how to cook, comb hair, along with other household things. Whenever she drank, she became drunk and would always strip her clothing, and her arm would always come out of place. My father would put it back in place each time. My father was a very violent drunk. They would fight whenever they were drunk. We were always sent to bed watching from the stairway. During this time, we would go to KCMO to visit his mother, our beloved grandmother, then to Annie Mae’s family. I love my grandmother. I believe today I was her favorite. Our visits seemed to be in the summer. When we went to visit her family, there was her mother, her father, uncle, his wife, and our step-cousins who always played The Boll Weevil on the piano. This was every summer, I believe.

I looked forward to seeing Grandma and to just to touch Betty her beautiful black doll. I believe sexual abuse took place within her family because I can still hear my cousin saying to stay out of Uncle B’s and Uncle C’s way because they were always trying to touch them. Things at home haven’t changed. They were still drinking and fighting. I heard my stepmother cut one of my father’s fingers off during a fight. I do know he has a short nub.

Our stepmother tried to do her best by us children. I remember her ordering us girls some dresses from a company called Spiegel’s catalog. They were green and lime green. I hated that dress. My hairstyle was always three plaits. We lived in several different places in Omaha. I remember living on Erskine Street where I had a childhood friend and we had our dog, which was strange and very obedient of our father. He could tell our dog Pal to watch the house, and he did. He wouldn’t let us go near the door or windows. He was very protective of us children. When our father would whip any of us, Pal was ready to attack our father, but instead he would go to a corner and lie down and whine.

Our father had his unique way of punishing us. He would make us bend up and down until he said stop. If we stopped before he said stop, he would beat us. I personally would prefer the beating because I tired out so quick from bending up and down with my hands behind my head. I also noticed the way he watched my older sisters. I didn’t really understand what I was noticing before I knew it was not. Right now, we’re moving again.

I still got to see my friend. We had moved on to Twenty-Fourth, Ohio. During that time, things had not changed as far as my parents. It might be 1964. I remember going to visit Grandma in the hospital. She had cancer and was sent home. I remember climbing on the bed, kissing her. She told me she love me. My sister told her she would name her first little girl after her. She turned to my father and said, Be good to those children. She told me everything she had was mine. I never forgot that day.

I still remember the funeral and the beautiful women that came. I don’t know if that was his sister. It makes me think of the picture that I saw as a child. There was a man that he put out of the funeral home. I believe it was his brother. He didn’t want them there. Later I was given Betty her doll. He had a large black trunk that I believe he kept her belongings. In this trunk, there were silverware, fine china trimmed in gold, fine linen, lots of papers and documents, along with old coins. I can’t forget what the trunk had in it because many days I pulled coins from the trunk for myself and my little brother’s lunch at school. Today I know those coins were worth money besides what else that was in that trunk that was valuable.

During that time, I had started playing with Betty. I enjoyed my doll. She had long pretty black hair that I would comb. I remember putting her in a chair in the corner. When I would go back for her, she was in another corner, then my siblings started to notice the same thing. We complained about it to my father. He allowed me to play with her in the day and put her in his room in the chair at night in the corner. Again, she was in a different corner chair, and one day, all of us were in our father’s room looking at Betty, because we know what we saw. My grandma’s picture on the dresser showed her turning toward us, and we ran down the stairs. Very phenomenal. It did happen.

This doll was frightening like the doll Chucky and Annabelle. Nevertheless, I stopped playing with her. We still continued to go to KCMO to visit our stepmother’s family, then her father passed. I don’t remember that funeral too well. I do know we went to that funeral. Nothing changed at home. They were still drinking and fighting. Her arm would always still come out of the socket, and he would put it back in place each time. When she’s not drinking, she would cook a good dinner or watch her soaps, which were The Edge of Night, As the World Turns, Secret Storm.

My father would pick his guitar. We didn’t have much friends. I didn’t understand back then. Things were changing. We had a neighbor that asked our father if he could take us to see the Harlem Globe Trotters. Another neighbor would take us to church and press our hair on Sundays. That was our first time going to Zion Baptist Church. My older sister got baptized. This is when I learned about my God through two elderly sisters that lived alone and saw everything. Thank you, Ms. P and Ms. B. We all love going to church with them. At least I did.

She would send the older ones to the store, and they let us pick grapes off the trees. Our father or stepmother never took us to church. My stepmother did teach us to bless our food, followed by a verse. Afterward once the food is blessed, we would say Jesus wept. Thank you, Jesus. Bless my food before we eat. I passed that to my children, and I still do that today. I do remember her talking about Bible stories as a child. We were very close siblings. We played together all the time. I remember when our dog bit my brother in the face because he pulled his whiskers while he was eating. Our father beat the dog and my brother. This was a good dog, very protective. I personally was scared of him. My brother was back to being his best friend.

I also remember taking baths with my brother in a tin tub. She would point to his private area and say, Wash your tedole wedole. I don’t know if it was a sick move or her way of playing with him. We mainly did this in the summer to cool off. Perhaps she tried to make us a family. I noticed that my father didn’t say too much to the neighbors. He always tried to keep us sheltered and keep our family issues in the family. Our stepmother worked part-time as a nurse aide. She was always home when I came home from kindergarten. One day I came home from school, and she said she needed to talk to us children.

Then she told us that she was going to find our mother and get us some help because he was doing wrong by my sisters. I didn’t really understand it, and at the same time, I didn’t question it. It just was very shocking our mother was never mentioned in our house, just the fact my father would say she’s dead or in the mental hospital.

She knew about his sick secrets. She told our father she was going to her nephew’s graduation party in KCMO. Our father offered to take her, and she said no, and took a cab. He followed her, leaving the house very mad and leaving us alone, which we were used to. We as children knew she wouldn’t be coming back. When he returned, his shirt was torn and he stumbled into the doorway. My oldest sister pulled him in, and he stood up, calling all of us down the stairs. The rest of us were already peeping from the stairway, and we came down answering, Sir. We were very respectful children regardless how we were treated. He instilled that in our life, and it’s still within myself today.

Once we all were downstairs, our father said if anybody asks if he left the house we better say no, and we answered, saying, Yes, sir. Then he said if anybody asks if he drink we were to say no. Again, we said, Yes, sir. During this time, our family members were victims of sexual abuse. I believe today our stepmother knew what he was doing, and she went to get us help by going to our mother in KCMO. He continued to question us about his daily drinking, making sure we didn’t say he drinks or leaves the house. He then pulled a shotgun out, and he pointed it to my sister’s head when he said he would kill us all if we say anything. I wonder today what he thought we knew.

Days later, some detectives came by and said they wanted to ask us children questions about our stepmother. They showed some pictures of her and asked when did we see her last. The pictures were in black-and-white. I was in the second grade, and I saw the sadness in my oldest sisters’ faces, yet they didn’t say anything. We were just scared children and didn’t know whom to trust. The detectives said we don’t have to be scared. We knew that we had reasons to be afraid.

During that time, we were living on Ohio straight off Twenty-Fourth Street in Omaha. Our neighbors told that they saw our father leave behind the cab as though he were in a hurry. Ms. P and Ms. B, the sisters that lived together. The news talked about the open case of the Knight mystery. I think they talked about her being stabbed and strangled, thrown into the Missouri River. The news also stated the Knight children were scared to talk. We were scared our little lives had been threatened, and what do you do or whom do you tell when your father says he is going to kill you? We knew in our hearts that he killed her our stepmother. Her family began making threatening calls about Annie Mae’s disappearance. I believe they gave up too soon. All this took place in Omaha, Nebraska.

When I was a child, our father told us stories about him. We were never read such stories like the three little pigs like other children. He was a World War II veteran and told us how he killed in the war and enjoyed killing. He talked about eating on top of dead bodies. He said, I’m also a hit man that kills for money. He bragged on being a Mason. He had always worn the Mason ring. He then stated he didn’t do prison time for nothing.

The detectives came by again asking more questions after that visit. He said he was taking us to visit our mother again. I was shocked. We knew what he always had said all of our life. We didn’t ask no questions. We knew better. He told us no talking in the house. It might be bugged. We had to whisper to one another. We couldn’t turn the lights on. We had to use the flashlights because he did not trust the detectives.

He would say they were watching the house, so we packed clothing with the flashlight and tiptoed out the house without letting the door slam of the station wagon. I began to cry because I had left my stuffed animal blue donkey. He told one of my sisters to go get it, which was a shock. Then again, he needed me to be quiet. Once we were settled in the car, we could not close the car door. We held on to it while he eased the car out the driveway so the doors didn’t make no noise. He then told us to duck as he let the car roll out the driveway. He drove from the house. We were allowed to sit up in our seats once we were out the driveway and to shut the doors.

All of that was to keep Ms. P and Ms. B or the detectives from seeing us once we arrived in KCMO. He took us to Pastor O and his wife, who adopted our older brother that we didn’t know nothing about. We were told at that moment that he was our brother and the firstborn child of my mother. He always knew how to find her whenever he needed her. We learned she was staying in a small apartment and pregnant with one of the younger brothers.

I liked her right away. She kissed all of us. She seemed very happy to see her children. I remember her taking us to the movies and talked about getting a bigger place. She asked if we wanted to stay with her. All of us said yes. We stayed for a while. I don’t know if it was weeks or months, and I enjoyed our stay. There was so much freedom from him and so much love from her. I never wanted to leave. The next day, two little boys came by. They looked like twins to me. They stayed for a short while our mother told us that they’re not twins they were our brothers. Now we’re meeting more siblings that we didn’t know about.

During our stay, we learned we had five more brothers besides the one I was growing up with. There were ten of us. The four brothers were younger than the five of us. I realized he took us to our mother’s while he was under investigation of Annie Mae’s murder. He also knew he could trust our mother to do as he asked because of her own fear of him.

Our father brought groceries all the time and visited a lot as though Omaha was across the street. I really enjoyed being loved by my mother and not being threatened or beat for whatever. When he would visit us, he would ask if we miss Daddy. We all lied, saying, Yes, sir! At least I know I lied.

I was praying we could stay forever. Finally, it came a time when I heard a man tell my father to take us back home because Connie was crazy and wasn’t ready or well. I don’t know who he was. I just didn’t like him calling her crazy. I became angry. Even today I still get angry. My mother felt people were trying to scare her. They made figures with their hand through the window shade to scare her. I said, Mama, don’t be scared. I see it too. She was a strong woman at one time in her life before my father came into her life. Perhaps all this took place in KCMO, and just maybe somebody wanted her to be scared and perhaps go back to the hospital. I never learned why.

Our time with my mother was so beautiful. We sang together. We ran a race, and she won while she was pregnant with one of my younger brothers. When I look back, I was a track star in school. I also remember my younger brother’s father trying to get out of the way with my sisters. They had a pallet on the floor, and they threatened to tell my mother, and they did. When I think about them telling, it was the right thing to do. They just didn’t know how to tell on our father or were just too scared.

She gathered us together, and we walked up the street to his apartment, and she pulled a gun on him, ready to protect her children even though she had that fear of our father. I feel she would have killed him if she knew our father had come to get us. Our good times had come to an end. Everybody was crying. Our father asked us if we wanted to stay. We all said, Yes, sir, except one of my sisters. He then asked her what was going on while he was gone. She said Mama was looking for a bigger place to live with us. I will never understand why she chose him at that time. Today, I feel that was all she knew regardless what he took us through.

He then told us it’s time to go get our stuff. Together our mother begged him not to take us. We got in the car and shut the door. Mama waved and cried for her children, running behind the station wagon, screaming, Don’t take my babies! That alone became part of that childhood nightmare for me. That was the last time I saw my mother. We were back in Omaha, Nebraska, knowing we better not mention our mother again, and we didn’t. The news was no longer talking about my stepmother’s murder. I remember the news calling the case the Knight mystery!

It stated two Annie Maes died the same time. They believe they are the same person. We know he murdered her. We didn’t witness it. He showed us in so many ways. We have learned to live without both of them. Since my stepmother’s death, he became more abusive and drank much more. We as children did everything to keep from getting him mad. We just moved to 3616 Seward Street in Omaha, Nebraska. When he unpacked my doll Betty, I said I didn’t want to play with her anymore. We had a very large yard and got along with all the children in the neighborhood. We played softball a lot in our yard because it was so large. We still had our dog Pal.

We had three bedrooms. My two older sisters slept together, and my other sister and myself slept together, then my brother had his own room that was in an open area between both rooms upstairs like a foyer, and our father’s bedroom was downstairs. It was a large pink house. I only saw my father cry once when his mother passed. He got depressed, and he would play his guitar, tearing up, singing a song he made up for our stepmother. It went like this: Annie Mae, Annie Mae, I don’t know where I’m going, but I might get the electric chair.

I know my family remembers those lyrics of guilt. I think about how my father talked about the power of a Mason and how he would never see a prison. Omaha gave up too soon. My father always said he went to the sixth grade, which I don’t think so. He couldn’t read or write. My sister always signed our report cards, anything of that nature. He owned his own construction company. Several times, we scraped the walls to be painted. At the same time, he got food stamps, welfare. We dressed poorly, and he always kept a new car. My feet would be so sore because my shoes didn’t fit. The school gave us coats and Oxford shoes that were black-and-white, which I hated, or these other shoes that looked like boys’ shoes because everybody knew they were from the county welfare.

The children would tease me, which was very hurtful. We dressed much better when our stepmother was alive.

Our home seemed as though it were a nightclub with loud music and drinking and plenty of card playing and dominos. I can still hear them slamming on the table. I got big six. Everyone wanted to open with that. By then, things started getting worse. I can remember going hungry. We ate sugar sandwiches, mayonnaise sandwiches, and butter sandwiches. I used to ball up the center part of the bread and then eat it. I felt it would keep me full.

Our father had two refrigerators. One was ours, and the other was his. I believe he kept his lock. If not, we knew not to go into it. One day, my brother took some lunch meat out of his. I remember because I helped him eat it later. He found out. He would always say if we told the truth he wouldn’t whoop us. We knew if we did tell the truth, he might kill us, then we would line up in front of him from the oldest to the youngest of the five.

We always had the choice to take the beating or pump, which was an exercise that was torture. I mentioned this before. You put both of your arms behind your head, bend your knees up and down until he says stop. If you stop before he says so, he beats you with an iron cord or extension cord, and he always enjoyed watching you do this (true abuse).

My brother, sister, and myself played together. We played with cars and stick people because our brother had no boys to play with, then we would jump off the roof of the garage, saying, If you die, you just die (do y’all remember), landing in our dog Pal’s pen. I would run out real fast because I was scared of him. That was an everyday plaything to do for the three of us. I don’t remember my two oldest sisters playing with nothing, only softball or the hand games like head, shoulder, baby, 1-2-3, shoulder, side, baby, 1-2-3.

It was even worse when Christmas came. He would take us to the Goodwill to pick out our own toys. I remember one time we went for some clothes and shoes, and I stole that blue donkey that I used to cry for when we went to see our mother. I noticed my father saw the donkey in my arms. The store owner told him I could have it, and he said okay. He beat me when we got home about stealing, then he let me keep it, and I never took anything again with him.

Most of the time, we got a brown paper bag full of fruit and hard Christmas candy. We didn’t complain. I hated to return back to school for show-and-tell about what you got for Christmas. I can still hear the children laughing at me. It was very horrible. I stayed in fights defending my life as a misfit child along with being bully, which that didn’t last long.

I learned to fight back. The three of us hung out a lot. Being the youngest, we witness things children should have never seen. I believe the sexual abuse became more abusive once we moved to 3616 Seward Street in Omaha. The three became two, then it became one myself. I learned about him a long time ago on Ohio Street, not understanding what was going on, but once we moved to Seward Street, I have learned what he was doing and knew it was wrong.

One night, I followed my sister down the stairs and hid for my life and heard her being raped, saying, No, Daddy. I covered my own mouth to keep from making a sound. It was a different sister all the time. It didn’t matter that they were children. I always knew when he was going to call one of them because he always said, Everybody, get ready for bed, except for the one that was his victim that night. I’m sorry, sisters. I would lie in bed and cry in pain for them. As a child, I hated God because he let my family go through this nightmare that will haunt us for life. Today, I know God carried us across just like the prayer Footprints in the Sand!

Chapter 2

The Nightmare

Our house was a nightclub or hole-in-the-wall because they partied all night. Nobody cared we were children. They danced, drank, and our father would call us in to dance, then he would say, Ask for your money. These people saw what he was doing with his own young daughters. We knew all the latest dances from watching American Bandstand , and one of the younger females that was a drunk taught us the latest songs and dances. She was very pretty in the job corp and was a full drunk and alcoholic. Nevertheless, she was always good to us. My father wasn’t trying to keep his sickness a secret. I understood very well. We sisters were stairsteps in age. He treated us like grown women that he got pleasure from.

When I look back, my sister had to be pregnant when we stayed with our mother. This meant she was raped on Ohio Street at a very young age. Since my adulthood, I learned one of my sisters was raped at eight years of age. She didn’t understand why. Sisters, I can only say he was sick during this time. I will get in more fights protecting my sisters’ names.

At school, they would tease me about her being pregnant. My sisters asked me did I know what our father was doing. I said yes, and they said to always run, which they knew that wasn’t a solution. He had no mercy on them at all. I began to sneak around watching things by myself. Every night, a different sister. This was our life after the beginning praying, for an ending, not knowing what to do. He then met this lady.

They didn’t date long. Instead, they got married. He wasn’t very abusive with her. She would fight back. We were hoping she stayed to stop the sexual abuse with his own children. I heard my father say, Y’all have to get ready. That baby will be coming soon. Ms. M never said nothing about my sister’s pregnancy. She also drank and would stay drunk. Our father never allowed any boys at the house. We were very obedient children. Nobody asked what happened to this child. I don’t believe my sister knew what was going on with her own body.

We called her by her name, Ms. M. She had mental issues. She would tell us that she had holes in her hands and feet like Christ. She said her side was pierced like Christ. Nevertheless, we liked her. One of my sisters said she was coming from our father’s room, and she closed her eyes as though she was sleep. She just lay on the couch watching.

One day, my pregnant sister was pressing my hair. She stopped to go into the bathroom. I was playing around, showing the kids how long my hair was when it got pressed. The next thing I knew, it caught on fire. I started screaming. My sister came out of the bathroom throwing water to my hair. What we didn’t know was you don’t throw water to a grease fire. I started to run until I heard my grandmother say to me, Don’t run and cover your face. I said, It’s too hot, I can’t. She said it again, Cover your face. My grandmother had been deceased for years. Very phenomenal. The next thing I knew, Ms. M. ran into the kitchen and smothered my head with a blanket.

When my father came in the house and learned what happened, he rushed me to the hospital. I was treated and sent home. That is when my sister got a beating from not watching me even though she was pregnant. He still beat her and myself from playing while my hair was being pressed. I stayed away from school for a while. My sisters brought my homework home, then