I had to be maybe 11 at the time. One of the photos that reminds me of this time is this one - photo shown- because I remember being that small, and wearing a nightgown which is why he had such easy access to me. I remember clearly being at the dinner table and him talking to my grandpa (I’m adopted) and he would always call me over and have me stand next to him. My grandpa who is / was a preacher, made friends with this man. So he was invited to live with us for a time.
I think after a month or so, I’m not even sure, my mom got it out of me in the car and I told her. He moved to California, I believe, and my pastors sons are Chaplin’s for the police and wrote him a letter saying to never come back and if he did he would be put in prison. He never came back. Over the years we have slowly emptied out all of his stuff.
He had bought me gifts all the time while he was doing it. He bought a tinker bell that flew in circles in my room, it hung from the ceiling. It was in constant movement and a constant reminder of him. The day he got kicked out, I threw it in the street and someone ran over it.
I think my story needs to be heard because it’s really made me look at religion in a different way. When I was little, I always viewed people in a religious position as loving and kind people who could do no wrong, that I could feel safe with. When he did that, it made me depressed and from then on I hated people, anyone. I learned that there could be nice people, but some nice people aren’t promised. Even people who follow this kind of religion can be evil and that scared me.