My whole childhood was spent terrified of two things: Being possessed and being kidnapped.
There’s something more frightening than having your body be damaged and have all your control be taken away. It’s being possessed by an evil spirit. I would wake up in the middle of the night and sing songs about Jesus until I could fall asleep again. I don’t know how long I was awake, but it felt like hours and I remember being so depressed about going to sleep because I knew I’d have nightmares and then wake up in the middle of the night and be alone for several hours.
A follow up to the last post, I believe I posted about Mikey locking me in the dark for hours and hours. After he took me out, he gave me lots of snuggles and love. He was my daddy and I was his special girl. Then, Lillith gave me a bath with the requisite near drownings. I sat on the couch with my hair drying, watching TV. I believe it was Muppets or Sesame Street–I never watched either at home. Mikey had somewhere to be, as he left he walked over to me on the couch. I was so tired. So, so tired. I just wanted my mom. Mikey came over and grabbed my hands. He made me look at him in the eyes and squeezed my finger tips as hard as he could while he told me he loved me and I was so special to him. It was so confusing because it hurts so much I started to cry but I had to repeat back to him that I was his special girl and he loved me.
Mikey left like he had something to do besides destroy innocent souls. Lillith was in the kitchen. Finally, my car pulled up. I kept looking out the window but was pretending to watch TV because I’d get in trouble if I asked to go home or when my mom would be there.
I remember driving pulling away in my mother’s car and looking at the apartment. I thought, “That poor little girl in there! I wonder why she keeps being so naughty and what she did so wrong that they had to punish her! I’m so glad that’s not me!”
Other times at Mikey and Shamby’s included drinking chocolate milk–a treat for me–that was mixed with blood.
Mikey knew about my church’s religious beliefs so he’d play tricks on me. He’d tell me that he was heavenly Father and clap his hands and the lights would go off. He’d tell me he could read my mind and knew that all the time I was a bad little girl. He knew that I’d masturbate. He taught me to pray to satan. He told me I was satan’s little girl because heavenly Father didn’t want me. He knew I was no good. If I prayed to heavenly Father, He would make bad things happen to me. But if I prayed to Satan, that was where I really belonged. And then I’d know I was loved.
I was dedicated to Satan. I remember having to take a bath in their tub and I think it was pig’s blood. It was disgusting and sticky and I wasn’t allowed to wipe it off.
One time, I was probably five and my dad would kneel down with me at night to say prayers before bed. I had just been to Michael’s house, and the knowledge that heavenly Father wanted NOTHING to do with me was fresh in my mind. My dad tried to get me to pray. I really, really didn’t want to pray to satan, but I was too scared to pray to heavenly Father. I just cried and threw a little fit. My dad didn’t understand what was the matter with me, so he said my prayer for me.
Even today, as a bonafide adult, I have to make sure that when I pray in my mind, I have to at least whisper, or just say out loud, “In the name of JESUS CHRIST, amen.” My worst nightmare is that I’ll say: in the name of satan. And then that will give him an excuse to possess me again.
So, they get in your head. At a young age. And there’s just no way to win.