You would think that this woman would consider how she was almost busted and would stop with the beatings. That would be too much like right for Rose. Believe me when I say that this person still beat us when we got home. She beat my brother so bad with the cord that she broke the blister that had formed on his burned thumb. The next thing I saw was blood gushing from his wound. How long were we going to have to live like this? So many times I wanted to tell the social worker when she came to do the evaluation, but every time I thought I had the courage to tell her, Rose would look at me with a nasty glare. Her white eyes bulged from her dark, black, evil face. She kept me scared and I never told.
It seems like the physical and emotional abuse became worse by the day. The beatings and lack of nutrition became a way of living for us. I remember one day when Rose was beating me on the kitchen floor with my hands tied behind my back to keep me from grabbing at the cord. While she was beating me, the German shepherd came into the kitchen and started barking and growling at me as if I was doing harm to his master. Then the dog began biting and tearing at my gown which eventually ripped. After that every time Rose beat me, if the dog was around he would attack me. The white hairy dog never joined in on these vicious attacks, only the German shepherd. I began to think that this dog was going to kill me one day and Rose probably would not care if it did.
Eventually the day came when the German shepherd went for the kill. Rose was once again beating me on the kitchen floor with my hands tied behind my back. Every strike of the cord by Rose was so painful that I truly believed my neighbors had to hear my cries for help. Then I started feeling a pain that was more than the cord. It was unbearable and excruciating, and it was from the sharp fangs of the shepherd’s mouth mauling at my leg. I did not know any more if my cries were from the pain of Rose or from the pain of that damned dog. I can remember crying, screaming and yelling, “Stop it!” Rose finally stopped but it was too late because her dog had mauled the middle of my left leg down to the bone. The wound the dog created on my leg was about the size of a golf ball. When Rose realized what he had done she panicked but not enough to take me to the hospital. She tried to doctor the wound herself. She placed gauze pads, wrapped it up and told me not to tell anyone what happened.
Here I was, a child with no one to come and rescue me from this mad woman. I did not know at this time anything about the Almighty God or the Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. I did not even know how to pray or what a prayer was for that matter, but I knew something had to give. Two or more days passed until my caseworker, Ms. Irving, came for a visit. She noticed me limping and asked me what was wrong with my leg. I would not say anything, so she checked for herself, noticed the bandage and removed it. She could not believe her eyes as she gasped with disgust. Though I was trembling with fear of Rose, I stood my ground and just told her everything that had happened. Ms. Irving took me and my brother to the emergency room at Wyler Children’s Hospital where the doctors and nurses took me into a room where I received multiple needles in my wound. There I was, screaming my life away again. The healthcare workers were saddened by what had happened to my leg. Glory is to God that my caseworker’s actions saved my brother and me from this horrible creature name Rose or I would most likely not have my left leg today.
My wound eventually healed over the course of months, but a permanent scar remains. I spent a few days in the hospital while Raffeal was temporarily at the DCFS facility. Although I never saw Rose or her dogs again, our physical and emotional scars were far from healing. We remained with no indication of when our mother was going to get custody of her children again, leaving us to wonder if that meant being placed in another home, with another abusive family.
Passed Around By Man But Not Passed Over By God Chontate Brown Copyright ©2013 All rights reserved.