| Chapter one Beginnings & Endings |
| Though Wendy had not traveled this road in years, it seemed as if it had only been yesterday. She reached down and tucked the map into her purse. Richard thought she would need it, but once she took the exit, Wendy knew exactly where she was. She wanted Richard to come with her, but the memories for him, were not the same memories she had, and to return now would be too painful. As she drove through the countryside, memories of that first trip to Barrington Hall with her social worker came flooding back. The wheat fields looked the same as they did back then but The town of Jacksonville seemed smaller than she remembered. Wendy slowed her car as she drove through the little town. The shops that lined the streets hadn’t changed since she left five years ago. With the exception of new playground equipment, the park stayed unchanged as well. Wendy continued to drive past the park and into the countryside. She traveled the two miles before turning right onto Meadow Lane road. As she drove closer to Barrington Hall, her stomach tightened. Wendy craned her neck trying to get a peak, but the trees that surrounded the school had grown, and the school had become invisible from the roadside. Wendy pulled into the parking lot. She turned off her car and took a deep breath. She never intended for things to turn out the way they did and she hoped her father would understand. Wendy loved him dearly and She hoped to be forgiven. Except for the wind that blew through the trees, the school seemed rather quiet. At the age of ten, Wendy hadn’t understood why she had to come to Barrington Hall and she feared it more than anything else in her life, but today she felt sadness. Mark had become the father she always wanted and Barrington Hall had truly been her home. Wendy entered through the main door and as she walked down the hall, the varnished wood floors still creaked as they did when she had arrived years earlier. “Can I help you miss?” a voice called. Wendy turned. “Yes. I’m here to see Mark Johnson.” “May I tell him who is calling on him?” she asked. “Yes. Could you tell him Wendy is here to see him?” “Is he expecting you dear?” “Yes, he’s expecting me.” “Ok dear. Just have a seat here in the hall and I will tell the Principal you’re waiting.” Wendy sat on the bench across from the principals office like she had on several different occasions while she lived at Barrington Hall. The echoes of laughter floated down the hall and made her smile, for her laughter at one time, had filled these very halls. Suddenly she heard another familiar sound. The sound of whimpers coming from the other side of the principals door. They were soon followed by light smacking sounds. The cries of a small child escaped through the casing of the door and floated across the hall. As Wendy sat there listening to the sounds, she reached up and wiped away a tear. It had been a long time since she had heard such a sound and her reaction surprised her. The memory of her first day at Barrington Hall came flooding back and Wendy suddenly felt ten years old again. Wendy had spent her young life in the care of her grandmother. She had no idea where her parents were and as far as the nine year old could be concerned, they were dead. Wendy had been perfectly happy with her life at her grandmothers, but upon arriving home from school one day, she found her grandmother lying on the kitchen floor. Sorrow flooded Wendy and the next thing she knew, there were people all around her in suits and some lady asking her a bunch of questions. Wendy watched as they carted her dead grandmother off in one direction and Wendy in another. Wendy felt in a daze and didn’t understand what was happening to her. A few days later, the Judge determined she had no living relatives. Wendy became a ward of the state and they placed her in a foster home. Wendy kept to herself as much as she could and she talked as little as possible. At night she cried herself to sleep. Though the people seemed nice, there were to many other children. Wendy longed for her grandmothers loving touch and the safety she felt when she was with her. Wendy didn’t understand why everyone kept leaving her behind. No one would ever understand her like her grandmother did. As time went by, Wendy began to open up, but with so many children coming and going, it never felt like home. By the time she turned 11 she had been in seven different homes. Still She felt every new foster home would be a new chance to find a new loving family. Someday maybe someone would love her again. But as time went by, Wendy began to lose hope and became hardened to the world around her. She learned to be sneaky and dishonest in order to survive. Wendy finally came to the conclusion that she would never find loving, caring parents again and when things got a little rough in any new homes, she would run away. Most of the foster parents got to the point of asking Wendy placement worker, Mrs. Wilkins to come get her because she was to much for them to handle. So on their way to yet another foster home, Mrs. Wilkins told Wendy again many that if she didn’t straighten up, she would find herself in a lot more trouble than she could even imagine. But Wendy had no interest in listening to this woman. Wendy heard her say the words. “This is your last chance” but Wendy didn’t bother to ask what she meant by that. Mrs. Wilkins car slowed in front of an old two story Victorian style house surrounded by a chain link fence. The house looked a little run down, but not as bad as some of the other places she had lived in. Wendy grabbed her duffle bag and headed to the door with Mrs. Wilkins. “I know you’re angry with me, but you can’t keep running away. There are much worse places to be, than in foster care Wendy.” “You ever lived in a place like this?” Wendy asked. Mrs. Wilkins patted Wendy gently on the back. “Wendy you need some structure and discipline. Mr. And Mrs. Graham will provide you with both. They are decent people and have been foster parents for many years. Just try to stay put a little longer in this home.” Wendy looked at Mrs. Wilkins and smiled. “Maybe this will be the one.” she said. When the door opened, on the other side of the screen stood a rather tall stern faced man. He looked a bit intimidating to Wendy. He invited them in and for the first time Wendy stayed as close to Mrs. Wilkins as she could. Wendy didn’t know why, but something just didn’t feel right inside the walls of this house. Mrs. Wilkins introduced Wendy to them. She chatted for a few minutes, then left Wendy with her new family. Three days after she arrived, Wendy’s fear of this new place came true. Mr. and Mrs. Graham worked many hours. Wendy, her three foster sisters and her two foster brothers all worked very hard. They had to keep the house clean from top to bottom. The long list of chores that Wendy had, left her no time for playing or exploring the new neighborhood. Though Mrs. Graham seemed a little kinder, all the children in the home called Mr. graham the dictator. Though they never said why, Wendy would soon find out. While scrubbing the kitchen floor on her hands and knees, Wendy looked up through the open screen. Her two brothers were out stacking wood, and her three sisters were out and about doing other chores in the house. Wendy stood up and looked around her. She didn’t see that the floor needed scrubbing at all when she could be out doing something fun. Wendy opened the back door and dumped the bucket. She put everything on the back porch and took off out the front door. Wendy walked up and down the streets, taking in all the tiny shops and clothing stores. She stopped at the window of the pet store and smiled at the puppies inside. She wondered if they felt like she did. Scared and alone. When Wendy finally entered through the front gate, the sun had long set. The lights inside carried through the windows, lighting up the walkway. When Wendy entered through the front door, she felt someone grasp her by the arm and squeeze. She turned her head as he yanked her from the doorway. Mr. Graham didn’t speak but a few words as he pulled Wendy up the stairs and down the hall. “Whipping.” That’s the only word Wendy caught from the short sentence he expelled. Wendy felt as if she were in another place. Not the place Mrs. Wilkins had put her in. This wasn’t that place. Wendy couldn’t speak a word for Mr. Graham told her, trying to explain with lies would only make her punishment worse. Wendy didn’t feel what she had to say would be a lie. Mr. Graham took Wendy into the bathroom just down the hall from her room. He pulled her inside, then slammed the door behind him. No more words were spoken. He released her, then reached for his buckle. Wendy shook and rubbed her arm as it throbbed. Wendy’s stomach tightened when she saw Mr. Graham unbuckle his belt and start to pull it from around his waist. Wendy frantically looked around the tiny bathroom for a place to hide, but there would be no escape for her this time. Wendy understood just why he had chosen this room. It held no space and no distance could be put between her and this man. Mr. Graham placed the buckle in his hand and wrapped the leather around his hand three times. Just fourteen inches of belt remained free. Fear consumed Wendy as Mr. Graham grabbed her by the arm and pulled her around. Wendy threw her hand back to protect her bottom. She had never been whipped in her eleven years of life and this terrified her. “Move your hands girl!” He scolded. “You’re going to get what’s coming to you.” Wendy slowly removed her hand, but after the first lick of the belt, she threw her hand back. Mr. Graham let the belt whip Wendy’s hand once. She quickly removed it and with all the might she had, she kept it away from her bottom. Wendy Jumped and danced all around the tiny bathroom, but Mr. Graham’ and his belt showed no mercy. When the whipping stopped and Mr. Graham released her, Wendy legs crumbled beneath her. She rested her head on the tubs edge and let cries of pain fill the tiny room and filter out into the hall. “You stay in here until you collect yourself, then you get to bed.” Mr. Graham closed the door. The other children were already upstairs in their rooms. They could hear Wendy’s wails as they escaped through the thin bathroom door. When they heard Mr. Graham’s footsteps disappear down the stairs, one by one they peaked down the hall. As Wendy’s cries subsided, one of the girls with whom she shared a room, tiptoed down the hall and quietly opened the bathroom door. When Wendy heard the bathroom door open, she squealed, but when she saw the girl standing there, she tried not to cry. The girl didn’t speak to Wendy. She sat a pair of pajamas down on the floor next to Wendy. As she started to leave the room, she whispered. “Get changed as quickly as you can and get into bed. If he comes back up and you’re still here, you’ll get it again for not moving fast enough.” She turned and left the room. Wendy managed to get to her feet. She changed into her pajamas, brushed her teeth and washed her face. When she looked into the mirror she started to cry again. For the next several days, Wendy avoided Mr. Graham. She had no intensions of ever letting him whip her and she decided if he ever did it again, she would leave. Wendy did her best to be as good as she could, but after two weeks of rising early, attending school, and doing chores, she began to really hate living with these people. She had gotten to know the other children and sympathized with them as they took their turns in the bathroom with Mr. Graham and his belt. Though the girls were quick to obey any order, the boys were a little more to Wendy’s liking. They helped each other with their chores, then would spend an hour or so a couple days a week on the boardwalk. They taught Wendy how to steal from venders on the street. In three short months, Wendy had learned a whole new set of skills. They even took money from their foster parents on a regular basis, but one Sunday afternoon while Mrs. Graham went shopping and Mr. Graham slept on the sofa, Wendy and the two boys tried taking money from his wallet as it lay on the table next to him. While Wendy and the two boys held the wallet and discussed how much to take, Mr. Graham rose from his nap. They dropped the wallet and all three of them took off in three different directions. One boy headed for the front door and Wendy followed the other boy as he headed to the backdoor. As Wendy reached the opening, she felt a hand grab her. She tried with all her might to wiggle free, but she couldn’t get away. As Mr. Graham pulled her back into the house, she turned and watched her accomplice run through the back gate and into the alley. "Let go of me, you jerk," Wendy yelled. "I’ll teach you to steal from me you little delinquent, "He said as he drug her powerless body from the kitchen and down the hall toward the bedroom. "I knew you would be trouble, I don't know why I ever agreed to take any of you in," he complained. "You are all ungrateful little brats." This time, Wendy watched as Mr. Graham yanked the belt from around his waist. And folded it. “When I’m done, you’re going to regret the day you were born,” He yelled. Wendy tried to back away, but Mr. Graham grabbed her arm and pulled her to the bed. Wendy tried with all her might, but in a few short seconds, she found herself bent over. Wendy cried as Mr. Graham held her down over the bed and bared her bottom. The scorching licks of the belt came fast and hard. Wendy kicked and screamed as Mr. Graham continued. Wendy couldn’t recall ever feeling such pain. Suddenly the belt stopped and she felt the weight of Mr. Grahams hand leave her back. Through her cries, she heard him leave the room. Wendy couldn’t move. All that she could muster were the cries of her agony. In her sorrow, she thought of her grandmother and how ashamed she might be of Wendy's new behavior. Wendy wished for her to understand how alone she felt and that somehow she needed to be strong if she were going to survive this world alone. This was the worst foster home yet and Wendy knew she had to get out of there. Later that night, she did get some satisfaction of hearing her two little accomplices getting their whippings as well. The next morning, she rose early. She packed some clothes in her backpack and she left. Wendy spent her days at the beach and as she watched the waves, she began to cry. She cried from the pain of loosing her grandmother, from being scared, and the pain that she had in her heart. Wendy longed to have someone care for her and love her again. All she asked for, is someone to love. |
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