Why Can I Speak Up? Pt.2
12 Years Old-14 Years Old of Eric’s Life Experience
My mom and Wayne were not married when we moved to NC. Their plan was to get married after we got to NC. So, that’s what they did. We lived here for about two months, and they got married in the church. Once that happened, it was like a switch went off in Wayne’s brain. He went from being weird but cool to a life-controlling nazi. We could do nothing without his consent, and we couldn’t do anything that he didn’t want to do it. He began to make our lives miserable. He became abusive and unrelenting.
The cycle continued with Wayne. It was more of the same but multiplied. Wayne did a lot of awful things that I will never forget. Unfortunately, I could write volumes of each thing he did to me personally, my sisters, my mom, and my family in general. I’m hoping to give you a broad scope of events he did to affect my family. But, I will try not to linger here too long.
When they got married, there was no room for mistakes. When Wayne spoke, it was law. It all started on Hess Road in Concord. He created nicknames for each of us and himself. He called himself ‘King-Daddio.’ My family wasn’t allowed to call him anything but that name. My sisters and I weren’t allowed outside unless he was with us. We would do school, eat, and watch TV. The only social interaction we got throughout the week would be with people from church. Church was on Wednesday’s and Sunday’s. The only time we saw anyone but our neighbors were on those days. It was hard; my family were the social people of our town in California. Everyone knew my mom and us. But, here we became forced introverts. I remember my mom trying to find things for us to do, and Wayne would shut it all down unless it was something that he wanted to do. My sisters and I needed new clothes or school supplies. But, we were told to make due because we didn’t have the money for that. However, he would show off his new motorcycle gear or brand new car at the same time. It was consistent hypocrisy. My mom would not fight it, though. She would work, work, and work some more to fight for our education.
While we lived on Hess Road, the physical abuse between my mom and Wayne started. I remember my mom grabbing keys one night around 11 pm after a day of fighting. But Wayne didn’t have it. She was holding on to the keys of that car for dear life. He tossed her around. They wrestled from the kitchen, through the hallway, then straight into my sister’s room. Finally, he slammed her up against my sister’s dresser, and she relented, and he won. We stayed in the house, with the monster in creation.
After a certain amount of time, they found a house on Elkwood Court that was a good deal, and they bought it together. Having this house made things so much worse. The mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual abuse that this man put on us was almost unbearable. It started with control. Wayne always controlled our lives, but it got insane. We went to bed at eight-thirty every night; we woke up at nine every morning. Even if we were awake before nine, we were not allowed out of our bed until it was time. Once it was nine o’clock, we were allowed to use the restroom. But, we weren’t allowed to shut the door for privacy. Wayne would not let us cook in the kitchen or even pour our cereal. So, right at 8:45 every day, he would pour our cheerios and milk. Wayne would let it sit and get soggy because he wouldn’t let us down the stairs until nine. He would give us what he called the ‘shit’ call. He would scream at the top of his lungs, ‘It’s breakfast time shitlens! Get your food! Shitlens! Shitlens! Shitlens!’ The chant from Wayne often be the first thing I heard every day. He would end the call telling all three of us that we were little shits and should eat. I felt dehumanized, and I often felt annoyed right away every morning. The cereal was soggy every day and smelt terrible. We had ants often. So, after fifteen minutes of sitting still, the ants would infest our cereal. But, we weren’t allowed to switch the cereal out. We also weren’t allowed to leave the table without getting the wrath of Wayne on us. So, we had to eat bugs with our breakfast. It was a constant fight in my mind not to say anything. I knew I deserved to eat better than this. I knew that we still never ate bugs in our food, even at my family’s most impoverished time! But, I was scared, so I submitted and scarfed the bugs down and ate the cereal and bugs as fast as I could.
After eating breakfast, my sisters and I were allowed to brush our teeth and make our bed and get dressed for the day. A part that always made me feel uncomfortable was the fact that we weren’t allowed privacy. I had to change in front of my sisters and Wayne. I was a heavier kid, and Wayne would let me know. As I changed, he would walk into my room and tell me things like ‘Dang, you need to lose weight,’ ‘Damn, you’re fat.’ ‘Damn, you are SEXY.’ I am physically shaking while I write this because it all hurt so bad. At thirteen years old, I was being checked out, body-shamed, and told by my stepfather that my weight was either wrong, I was too hairy, or I just wasn’t good enough. Besides that, it was just me being uncomfortable that a full-grown man was continually walking into my room while I was naked.
Our daily schedule looked the same every day, except for Wednesday’s and Sunday’s. But, the only difference was church on those days. We got up at nine, were allowed to use the restroom, ate soggy (bug-infested) cereal, got ready for the day, did school, go outside for a one-mile walk, go inside the family room, watch TV, eat lunch, watch TV, eat dinner, watch TV, take a shower (Every other day), go to bed. We weren’t allowed to spend time with friends; we weren’t allowed to go outside; we weren’t allowed to cook or even do chores around the house. The only things that my sisters and I could do were school, television, and wait for my mom to get home from work to listen to them fight.
I didn’t go to my backyard for more than a year and a half. I remember looking through the window of our family room longing to feel the sun beating down on my face; I longed to run, I longed to sweat and get dirty. But, to ask to go outside started a war in my household. So, I submitted.
It was at the point that my sister and I were complacent about everything. We got brainwashed and agreed to everything out of fear of retaliation. I don’t know how to put the feelings I felt consistently into words. I can think of words like fear, annoyance, sad, depressed, dismal, regret, and survival.
Wayne had us where we wanted. All he had to do was threaten his fists and use his words. He had all of us under his thumb and didn’t need to do anything but using his words. But, the power got to him even more. Things began to get physical. I remember my mom being beat at the foot of the stairs. She would not give him something he wanted. So, he began to hit her and choke her at the foot of the stairs. I remember my sister saying him ‘no’ as he was pouring our cereal one day, and he slapped her so hard that her ponytail flew out of her hair. There was nothing I could do that would help. So, yet again…I submitted.
Nothing changed for two years. My sisters and I stuck together for survival while my mom kept going back to this man. We stayed quiet, did what we were told, and waited for the day we turned eighteen to get as far away from that house as possible. We were stuck until then, though. I remember arguing with my mom, ‘Why can’t we leave? Why do you want to live like this?’ She could never come up with a good reason. She loved him, hated him, and was scared of him all at the same time. She knew in her heart of hearts that she needed to leave. But, the brainwashing, manipulation, and fear that Wayne put into her head crippled her.
At one point, for about four months, Wayne successfully split my family from my mom. He had my sisters, and I convinced that every issue that our family had was solely based on my mom’s attitude. During this time, my mom was working 70–85 hours a week. She would leave at 7 am and wouldn’t come back to the house until eleven or midnight. She was trying to launch a business. So, Wayne took advantage of this. I remember walking out of the room when my mom walked in because I had so much disdain. To this day, I can’t believe that he successfully separated this family that was so committed to each other.
The turning point of my family’s brainwashing was my mom’s thyroid surgery. She had cancer in her thyroid, and it had to be removed because it was messing her body up. The recovery from that surgery took about a month. My mom had a hard time eating, speaking, or talking. She slept on the couch of the family room, she wasn’t able to walk up the stairs okay, so she hardly showered, and all she could do was read or watch TV. She was living our lives while she was at work. But our lives changed a lot. We were outside, poured our cereal, went to our friend’s house, did all of the everyday kid things. But, that time ended; my mom went back to work, and we began to go back to our ‘normal’ lives.
We got that taste of childhood for that short period. We began talking to my mom, begging to be kids, and she would fight for herself and us. The fighting would cause a ton of problems in the house, and things would go nuclear fast. One night, my mom had enough. She packed our clothes and told us that we would stay in a hotel to get a single night’s rest. But, he wouldn’t allow us to go. He would swell up, get large, shove, and yell every time my sisters, mom, and I would step towards the door. So, my mom sent us to our rooms, she went into her restroom, and all you could hear were things slamming in the downstairs part of the house. All of a sudden, I could hear a knock on the door. It was the police. My mom had called the police, so Wayne would allow us to leave without any physical interaction. It was amazing to see the sudden change of character. He went from being the meanest man in North Carolina to the sweetest man that ever walked the earth. He even started the car and packed it up for my family to leave peacefully. He had no clue where we were staying. We got to the hotel around midnight and had to leave for my mom’s office by seven. So, I had only slept for about five hours or so. But, it was the first time in two years that I slept the night through peacefully.
The peace I felt that night did not last long, though. The next day, my mom went back and patched things up with Wayne; for the time being. We were back in our house again. My mom refused to sleep in the same bed as Wayne. She slept on the couch, and that made everything that was already tense even more magnified. My mom was the lucky one, though; she got to go to work. My sisters and I suffered the wrath of Wayne.
My mom was living in fear of this man, and we never had an opportunity to breathe. In my next post, I will be talking about when my mom finally took a stand and fought for our right to be kids. I believe that my mom is a superhero and has accomplished more than anyone ever could, given the circumstances. While these times were trying and it did get worse from here, she raised three kids successfully.
