Part 1

Well, first off, I should start off by saying a couple of things… First of all, do not expect to find a happy story in these pages. This is anything but happy. This is real life. Second, no one knows my entire story… Not even me. I will do my best to tell all that I can remember… This has NEVER been told to anyone before… Not all of it. No one knows all of the stuff I have been through in my life. Now you will know all I know. I just worry how you will look at me afterwards… I know you will never look at me the same way. Not after reading what I have dealt with in this lifetime… Honestly, I think the only reason I made it through all of this is because I don’t like the idea of dying… Well, that isn’t exactly true. I was suicidal at one point, but I always found an excuse to put it off for later. Now… let us begin.

Chapter 1: “The Beginning”
I recently learned something no one wants to learn. I was the result of a one-night-stand. My dad was hauled off to prison shortly after my mother became pregnant. Why? I honestly don’t know. Which scares me. I could be the daughter of a murderer for all I know. I have never met my dad. He has never met me either. I would think he would try to contact me if he cared, but he hasn’t. He just signed the papers for papa to adopt me and that was that. Anyway, back to my mom. My mom’s “supposed name” was Kristen Elliot. The reason I say “supposed name” is because I looked her up… Everywhere. What did I find? Absolutely nothing… Which makes no sense. She was hauled off to prison (I don’t know why) with that name… But that is according to my papa. He is always evasive on that subject. I looked up my dad too. Joel Paddock… Again. Nothing. I even looked up myself. Its like I didn’t exist and neither did my parents… Which scares me at times. I know nothing about my parents except for what I was told. What if all the stuff I was told was just a lie? Who are my parents? Who am I? I honestly don’t know anymore. Okay, back to when I was born. I don’t know who named me. My mother I suppose. Now, as my dad wasn’t around and my mom hadn’t remarried (she did have a boyfriend at the time though according to my papa) I was given her last name. I had no middle name at the time. I wasn’t given a middle name until age seven I believe. So my full name at the time was Jasmine Elliott. Now, onto the not-so-cheerful part. My mom did not follow the simple rules you are supposed to follow when pregnant. In other words? She drank, she smoked, she did drugs, and pretty much everything you aren’t supposed to do while pregnant, she did while she was pregnant with me. I was screwed up as a baby... Because of something... Something that may shock you. Take a deep breath for this next part… you will need it. What comes next is not the worst thing that has happened to me though. Not in a long shot. If you are someone who is strongly against the neglect of parents toward their babies… then you are in for a very large shock. You might want to stop here. That neglect left me almost dead by age one… What a terrible first year I had…
Chapter 2: “Neglect”
Now, as I said before, my mom had a boyfriend at the time she had me. What I didn’t tell you is that her and her boyfriend were always arguing about different things. So, when I was brought home, I was promptly ignored. My diapers were rarely changed, I was in a house that was not fit for a child, and I was often nearby whenever my mom started arguing with her boyfriend. (Lets call him Bob. I like that name. Such an easy one to remember too.)Of course, no action was taken by CPS. They had gotten complaints, but my mom and Bob had always known when they would come over. Those times they cleaned up the house and hid the alcohol and drugs. Then as soon as CPS left, everything once again dissolved into chaos. Out came the drugs, alcohol, and bad living conditions once again. And with it came more neglect. One day, close to my unnoticed first birthday, I was left alone with a babysitter. (Really? One years old and I am already dumped on someone else.) Well, at least that’s the story anyway. Not the truth though… The truth had something to do with Bob. I am not sure what. His real name is in the middle of all of the police reports though. He was under heavy suspicion after I turned up in the hospital with my skull cracked open. (Yes, literally.) It was said that I had rolled off the changing table when no one was looking… but that story wasn’t believed. I don’t know what really happened. All I know is that when people make the joke about being “dropped on the head as a baby” I don’t find it that funny. I actually was.

Part 2

Chapter 3: "Child Abuse"
Now, shortly after all this, CPS came into play… and they caught my mom and Bob in a screaming match, with her other kids (half brothers and sisters I have never seen since then.) ignored as well. They weren’t in as bad of condition as me though. I was the youngest of them all, so I was the least important. All kids were sent to foster homes all over. However, I was sent to a foster care close by. My mom and Bob broke up soon afterwards. So my mom decided to finally pay attention to me. Great. I wish she hadn’t. Anyways, she was allowed to visit me under the supervision of a social worker (is that what they are called? I can’t remember… hmm...) every two weeks I think. So, she eventually gained the trust of the social workers, and was allowed to take me out for ice cream… with no supervision (age 2 now). Idiots is all I can say to that. She didn’t take me out for ice cream. She took off towards the border with me. Thankfully, she was caught. I would most likely be dead if she had gotten away with it, or at the very least, blind. Yikes. Somehow, among all this chaos, I must have taught myself how to read. My papa tells me I could already read by the age of three, when I came to the sleepy town of Newport, Washington (some of you were probably thinking “Forks” there… but no. Our town has a population of about 1,400 people... and my class, the class of 2014, has 80 students in it... most of them being in my math class.) . I know I didn’t learn it from my foster parents though. According to my papa, they were terrified of me. My “terrible twos” were the worst you can imagine… Because the symptoms of ADHD started showing. And I mean SHOWING. Apparently, I was not a pleasure to be around. I was literally bouncing around everywhere. So, once again, I was neglected. CPS came for me once again. (this part is short because I don't know all the details about this time of my life... and I don't think I ever want to.) My foster parents didn’t want a freak like me around their children… So the CPS people got out a list of living relatives. In comes my papa, my dad’s dad. And I am practically forced on him. He had taken me to get ice cream... (he was actually nice to me when I was younger... until about 4th grade.) and when he got back, all of my stuff was by the door. Shows how much they wanted to get rid of me... the freak, even as a three year old I was labled as a freak. Probably because that is exactly what I was, and still am to this day. Although I prefer the term "special" Okay, now for my first memory. I am not sure what age most people can remember back to, but I can remember only one thing from age three. Age four is where certain memories come into focus... Ones I have tried very hard to blank out. But my very first memory is quite vivid actually. I was in the car lying down. I had just woken up so I was a bit confused. I remember looking at all the trees zooming by and thinking "Trees... why are there so many trees?" Of course, I knew I was in a car, but I had no idea where I was, or where I was going. And then I went back to sleep. And that is my earliest memory. Sometimes I think I can remember before that, but then the memory eludes my grasp and I am left in the dark once again... oh geez... I just said "left in the dark." That is my worst memory... Well, no, not true. I have MUCH worse memories... but those don't come until much later... Which, of course, makes those memories more vivid.

Part 3... one of the hardest parts.

Chapter 4: "Nicky"

Nicky… That name is one that comes with terrible memories… childhood memories. She was there when papa brought me to Newport. She watched me while he went to work at Kaiser in Spokane. She was nice at first. I remember all the good things about her… unfortunately, I also remember every single bad thing. The bad things she did heavily outweigh the good things, yet I cannot bring myself to hate her. She was nice… at times. I thought every kid was brought up that way. I didn’t know she wasn’t supposed to hurt me. How would I know? It started when I was four years old… and the workers at Kaiser went on strike. Papa was left to find a job. He found one, not sure even to this day where or what it was, but he found one. He had to catch a train to go there. I remember him coming in and waking me up at four o’clock in the morning. He doesn’t know everything that happened when he left though. I remember every detail… but have not told him all of it. What is the point? It is way after it was all said and done. I had thought I had gotten over the memory of what I am going to tell you next… but I hadn’t. Something triggered it again… just recently in fact. Just someone saying how duct tape is not something to mess around with… and when it is removed from the skin it can injure you… and that it is definitely child abuse for someone to duct tape someone. That is what triggered it. I know that better than anyone. I know the pain one feels when duct tape is torn off… I can sometimes still feel it. Nicky was trying to potty train me… but I kept on running all around. So, she got out the duct tape… and taped me to the potty chair. I remember that. I remember how it feels to be duct taped to that chair. It hurt. It was scary, and there was nothing I could do. I also remember that she didn’t un tape me for several hours. And that she did it more times than you can imagine. That isn’t the worst thing she did though. Not by a long shot… at least, not in my opinion anyway. The worst thing she did was even worse than the time she poured hot sauce into my mouth because I talked too much. It was even worse than the times I was crying on the potty chair and she wouldn’t un tape me. I was four at the time… and a very talkative child. I would talk nonstop about completely random things. If I wasn’t talking, I would be running around screaming or bouncing around the house. Keep in mind I was not yet diagnosed with ADHD. Actually, as a matter of a fact, I had been taken to a doctor a few weeks before. I was diagnosed wrong. Epilepsy is what the doctor said I had. Idiot. I wasn’t having seizures. I was hyperactive. But… I can see why he would think that though. I do remember that I twitched a lot too… but that was because I couldn’t stay still for a single second. No wonder no one wanted me as a baby. I was a nightmare in human form… and it showed. Right… back to Nicky. One day, she got fed up with my running around the house screaming my head off… so she did something that has effected my life for many years to come… and is still effecting it today. I think it was Summer when she did this… It must have been, because I don’t remember being cold. She stuck me out side, and locked the door. I tried to open it, but I couldn’t. That is how I know it was locked. (Let me say that a third time… the door was locked.) It was evening when she did this. It was getting dark. I had no problem with the dark before that day. She left me out there the whole night. I remember every single moment of that too… and still have nightmares about it sometimes. No matter how much I cried and kicked and screamed… she wouldn’t open the door. Now, where I live, that is never a good thing to do. I live in the woods. Where I have actually seen bears. I have heard of mountain lions nearby several times… and I can hear the coyotes here. I heard the coyotes that night. I remember it. I no longer fear the sound of the coyotes. That fear went away about two years ago. But I remember how terrified I was that night. I heard the coyotes and renewed my efforts on getting Nicky’s attention, sure that they were right there, and were going to kill me. I didn't know at the time that they rarely attack humans... that they avoid them. All I knew was what I had heard. SO of course, when morning came around, I was still awake and terrified... and that is where the memory goes fuzzy. I do remember freaking out when I heard coyotes again though. My papa took me out onto the porch and tried to explain that it was just the coyotes, but I was screaming and crying. I was terrified beyond belief. He didn't know why I reacted that way until Nicky confessed. He told her not to do that anymore, and then off he went to work. He came back early this time though... and saw me duct taped to the potty chair. Nicky was sent packing shortly after that... but what she did still effects me. I am terrified of the dark now. I feel absolute terror whenever I go outside at night... or near nighttime. I cannot stand the dark. It scares me more than anything else... and then, the nightmares began shortly after.

I will leave off here for now. The next part is also traumatic. I cant post both at once. That is too much for even me to handle.

Part 4... yet another hard part

After Nicky... things changed. I was screwed up by that experience. I used to not be afraid of the dark... or evening for that matter... but that all changed after Nicky. Things worsened. And... the nightmares began.

Chapter 5 "Nightmares"
Something was different about this dream. I am a four-year old... yet I am having terrible dreams. Nightmares. Ones that only appear in the worst horror movies... and I had to deal with that again and again. Every night. I was so scared of going to sleep at night because of them... yet I was too scared to stay awake too. Either way, the nightmares reached me. When I was awake, I thought I saw ghostly figures all around me. I was so scared. Even when I hid under the blankets... I could feel their presence. They were evil. They shifted shapes into monsters. They looked like people at first, then they changed into the most horrifying creatures to me. A giant spider, a tyrannosaurus rex, a mountain lion. All of these things plus many more... but they weren't alone. I don't know what they were, perhaps just my four-year-old mind playing tricks on me... but that doesn't explain why I still see them every so often. The nightmares were, and are still, the worst part. They were not what one would expect a four-year-old having nightmares would have in those nightmares... They were horrors that many grown adults would shy away from. I have often tried to change the dreams when I know I am dreaming... but it always turns out even worse than if I had just left it alone. It was the nightmares that really scared me though. They were so much worse than some of the things that are shown in horror movies, yet I was having them at age 4. I think that the things Nicky did that triggered them, more than anything else. It was a scary time for me… and still is. I still have nightmares. They went away for a few years, but they just came back a few months ago… and they were worse than ever. But, I am getting ahead of myself here. Let me start with the first one I can remember… and one of the most gruesome. I was age four… and had a nightmare that would scare most grown adults. It is both the content… and the feeling. The feeling was the worst part. I felt absolute terror. I was alone, unable to get away from the evil… and unable to hide from it. Those were all things I felt in that one nightmare. I knew it was a dream at the time, and cowered away from it. I tried to stop it, but it was in vain. The dream played itself out… and etched itself into my memory forever. I will never be rid of it, no matter how long I live. I know that now. I have tried… and now, I must describe that terrifying dream… something that is truly deserving of being called a nightmare.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 19.01.2012

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Who do I dedicate this to? my friends. Thank you for your support. I wouldn't have been able to write this without it.