BOY IN DISTRESS - Chap. 3 - "MARA'S BITTERNESS"

CHAPTER 3: MARA’S BITTERNESS

 

Adoption would take many things from little Jonathan. Even his name. James Edward Matthews. Jonathan’s new name preserved his initials; but, still denied him any knowledge of who he really was; or, where he came from. His very heritage ripped from him; and, expunged with legal documents that served to solidify this fiction; this crime committed against the child.

There would be a legal battle between the two families as his maternal grandparents struggled against Oklahoma’s legal system to recover the child. Their efforts would be thwarted; and, the child’s future with his natural family would evaporate like dissipating smoke. As an adult Jonathan would inquire about it; and, Rupert would accuse his natural family of doing horrible, terrible, no good, very bad “things.” 


“REALLY?” JAMES WOULD SNAP BACK. “WHAT EXACTLY DID THEY DO?" WHAT WERE THESE HORRIBLE, TERRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD THINGS DAD?


HUM? TELL ME. I WANT TO KNOW. SERIOUSLY. WHAT DID THEY DO? WHAT?”

Rupert didn’t have a good response. The boy shook his head in disgust. His whole life was a lie. This woman and man who had adopted Jonathan had grossly misrepresented themselves to the courts; to the adoption agency; and, to the counselor who facilitated this crime against this child.

This wasn’t an adoption. This was theft, child trafficking as far as the boy was concerned. People should be in prison for what was done to him. Prison. Instead. The boy was trapped in a horrible situation he didn’t want; desperately desiring to escape; to return home. This new strange woman wanted a child of her own; a child who would connect her husband to her. They had already endured loss; after painful loss, of three (3) miscarried children. 

The very universe speaking out loud to them a resounding “NO.” 

Mara (“Bitter”) foolishly believed that this child would strengthen their marriage which was already struggling. Rupert (Mara's husband) had a father who NEVER told him that he loved him. Deep down he had hopes that this child would give him the connection; and, love he desired himself. 

Both of his captors had wounds they falsely believed would be healed by adopting a child; and, raising it as their own. As Jonathan grew up he would remember Rupert speak about his father; clearly a source of deep deep pain; and, neglect. More than anything Rupert desired that his own father had made him feel loved. Jonathan felt the man’s pain; because he himself felt his own.

This pain. This tenderness, this vulnerability of Rupert, would cause Jonathan as a child to feel deep empathy towards this man who provided him with his own room; a warm bed; clothing; and, a private school education. Rupert took care not to strike the boy out of anger. Yet that didn’t mean he never struck the boy. Mara would just strike him. She literally didn’t care. To the boy it felt intentional and malicious. Unloving. Undeserved. Uncalled for.

MARA WOULD JUST STRIKE THE BOY. SHE LITERALLY DIDN’T CARE. BUT SHE WOULD'T DO IT IN PUBLIC. SHE HAD AN IMAGE TO UPHOLD.

When he found himself in trouble at school his punishment would consist of being spanked with a giant wooden paddle Rupert had nicknamed “the punisher.” It hung on the wall in his office. Like a warning to the students. If you step out of line. We have corporal punishment. 


“At school. I’m the principal. At home. I’m your father.” Rupert told him, pulling off his belt.


The boy would get it again. Except this time with a belt. “This hurts me more than it hurts you.” Rupert would say; not realizing his wife Mara had already repeatedly struck the boy; first with her own hands on the way home in the car. Then again once he got home with whatever she felt was appropriate; her anger taking charge. How many more times was he going to be punished in this manner for the same thing? He wanted to escape this nightmare that just didn’t stop. 


Though others couldn’t see it Jonathan sensed something very wrong with this new “family” he had been thrust into without consent like a child trafficked by a cartel to the highest bidder. 

It wouldn’t be until Jonathan was almost fifty years old; and, a grandfather himself of a broken family that he would both need; and, seek out therapy for the entangled experiences that ripped and shredded his soul. The deep ocean of pain he tried to hide was always just under the surface. 

For years Jonathan learned how to push down; repress; and ignore the painful memories in order to function. He described it like constructing a tamped earth wall. Compressing the earth down, compacting everything. This made a strong wall, impervious to the elements. He would do the same with his emotions; but, the better he got at it; the more numb he became; and, the angrier he grew inside where it festered; simmering like a cauldron over a roaring fire.

His skill at pretending he was ok; when in reality everything was falling apart held for a while. Years even. Until he could no longer pretend. Sales and acting classes had helped him put on a happy, cheerful face for years. He had learned how to interface on a business level with people but still struggled with deep meaningful relationships. He could make friends; he just couldn't keep them.

The facade was cracking; and he could no longer hide the truth. The face beneath was incredibly angry; filled with bitterness that he just couldn’t seem to empty himself of no matter how desperately he would try. 

“HELP ME” JONATHAN CRIED OUT. HIS VOICE SHAKING. “PLEASE MOM. PLEASE HELP US. I JUST WANT TO COME HOME. PLEASE. I JUST WANT TO COME HOME. I NEED TO COME HOME” SHE WOULD NEVER HELP HIM TO TRULY COME HOME

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Looking back he could see where; and, when this crippling deep anxiety & depression began. Except now he had a better vocabulary & understanding to process why.

He couldn’t remember the day Thea left him; or, many others before; or after. A hazy fog and few memories settled themselves into his mind. Nor could Jonathan remember the  first time Mara (“Bitter”) struck him in the face. A much different act from the gentle finger that once was traced over his face gently waking Jonathan to a new day in which his true mother made him feel safe; loved. Those days; safe; and, loved would visit little Jonathan for a short 18 months; and then fade away forever. Leaving a future where he would learn many shades of loneliness; despair; and, deep, deep shame. 


Jonathan had a memory of crawling up onto Rupert and Mara’s bed. It was a weekend; probably a Sunday as they laid together lounging in bed with the sun bursting through the blinds into their bedroom. They seemed happy. As an adult he would recognize that they had probably just made love; and, that was why they seemed so happy. That happiness wouldn't last.


At some point Rupert stopped sharing a bedroom with Mara (“Bitter”) and moved into Jonathan’s room on one of the two (2) twin beds. This was at some point between the 1st and 3rd grade. He didn’t understand why they no longer shared a bed.


"Why is he sleeping in my room?"


Rupert’s snoring alone made sleeping very difficult; and, unless Jonathan feel asleep first he found himself unable to sleep because of the loud vibrating of his snoring; practically rattling the windows themselves.


Soon his grades in school were slipping; and, he was falling asleep in class. He had difficulty reading the board; and, fidgeted in class struggling hard to sit still. Paying attention was difficult as his mind bounced all over the place. His teeth were badly in need of braces and until that would happen the other students mocked his buck teeth while Mara herself began calling him "Bucky" as she belittled the boy as usual; crushing his spirit. His new glasses although they helped him to see the board better, resulted in even more insults. More names. He ran over them with the lawnmower the first week he had been mocked at school.


An act that infuriated the woman; and, earned the boy a beating he wouldn't forget.


“Jimmy; are you listening?” the teacher snapped; his eyes darted back into the classroom from day dreaming out the window. He hated that name. It wasn’t his name; but, it had been used for so long that he had forgotten his own true name; and, soon he would forget his mother’s soft voice; and, her blue eyes like his own that were different from Mara’s. 

Her eyes were blue also; but, not filled with concern; or, gentleness. They were cold, distant empty. Like a great white shark's to him. Dead eyes. Empty eyes. Instead of love, protection, gentleness, or nurturing her eyes were often filled with something else that made little Jonathan very, very uncomfortable. Anger, rage, frustration, dominance, a determination to exert HER WILL above all things.

There was nothing soft; or comforting about this woman to Jonathan. Nothing at all.


Rupert had a pornography addiction. Not a mild addiction either; a raging, four alarm dumpster fire of an addiction. In his closet he had multiple brown paper bags that you get at the grocery store. Each double bagged and filled with VHS tapes. Beneath where he placed his shoes another cubby hole that was filled to the brim with pornographic magazines.

Hustler, Penthouse, Playboy, Beaver Hunt, Chic, High Society, Oui, Screw just to name a few.

Most were straight white men and women engaged in sexual congress. Solos, couples, orgies; however, in time Rupert's taste for porn would become radically more deviant as he began accumulating gay; and, lesbian pornography as well. To top things off he had sex toys in his own drawer that you would expect to find in a woman’s drawer.

Rupert wasn't just watching it by himself. No. His adopted parents would send little Jonathan; and, his adopted sister to their rooms. They had invited friends of theirs over; closed the wooden folding doors with slats at the living room entrance and were watching porn in the living room. This wouldn't be a singular one time incident either. It happened enough times that it finally made an impression; a connection that never should have been made.

How would little Jonathan discover his adopted father’s porno stash? 

This is where things get REALLY TWISTED; and, the adult version of himself would burn with deep, powerful, angry, dangerous, indignation he struggled to control. If it wasn't for the way he would study the Bible as an adult; the boy would have most certainly become a hunter. Not of animals; but, of people.


JUST. LIKE. DEXTER.


If it weren't for the creator himself; the child would have chosen to set himself on a path; to seek out; and, destroy those who harm children. And not just a tongue lashing either. He would end them. Why? Because no child should EVER have to endure sexual abuse. He would NOT be the last victim in his adopted; or, natural family either.


It would be the seventeen (17); maybe (18) year old grandson (“JEFF”) of his next door neighbors (Polly and Basil Handly) who would first introduce little Jonathan to his adopted father’s porno stash.


JEFF had uncovered the stash one summer when snooping through Rupert’s closet while the family was out of town on vacation. JEFF was supposed to be watching the house; and, feeding the dogs. They had known JEFF for several years; and, every summer he would come and visit, staying for months.


They trusted him. Even gave him a key to the house.  

It wouldn’t be until later that summer when he began telling Jonathan about the stash; then showing him one day when his parents weren't home. “Hey, you want to see some naked ladies?” He asked? “Naked ladies? Where?” Jonathan questioned confused by Jeff's question. Jeff smiled a wicked smile, tilting his head for the boy to follow.

Jonathan would later wish to God that all he had done was show him his father Rupert’s porno collection. That wasn’t to be the end of it. 

That summer near the end of his stay, late one night while Jonathan’s parents were playing bridge in the dining room on the opposite side of the house with Jeff’s grandparents; Jeff would shut the boy’s door; placing his hand over his mouth; then threatened him with harm if he made a sound. The boy was only eleven (11) years old. Eleven. And he was absolutely terrified. 

THE BOY WAS ONLY ELEVEN. (11) ELEVEN. AND HE WAS ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED

Jeff forced the boy to put his erect penis in his mouth. He complied out of great fear. As an adult he would no longer be this vulnerable. He would become dangerous. Very dangerous.

What Jonathan didn’t understand was that some sick fuck - pedophile shitbag was sexually abusing him to get his rocks off. It would become even worse. Next this perverted child fucker decided he was going to see if he could fit his huge member in the boys anus.

The boy had been threatened with harm if he wasn't quiet. It fucking hurt, but, strangely felt good at the same time. This is how kids get turned out. This is how many boys wind up gay; effeminate; confused; and, choosing a homosexual lifestyle as an adult. This is not natural behavior. It is deviant; abominable, and now this child had a problem.

A serious. Serious. Serious problem. 

When the boy tried to tell his adopted mother Mara (“Bitter”) what had happened the next day she called the boy a LIAR; and, then proceeded to continue her abuse with no regard for what I had just been divulged. She didn’t call the cops; she slapped the child, HARD instead of comfort it sent him running to his room crying.


As a child he didn't understand that Mara had secrets to protect. But. These weren't her secrets. They were Rupert's. The truth would have outed them very publicly; and, brought a scrutiny she didn't want. A scrutiny she learned how to carefully avoid to maintain the "June Cleaver" image the school had of this quiet librarian. The truth would have cost them both their jobs; and, possibly their very freedom.


You have no idea how much the child would HATE her for that; absolutely hate her. What he learned was that he couldn’t trust her to defend him; to protect him; or even to believe him. As a child he was too afraid to say anything to the parade of counselors that he would soon encounter. He no longer trusted women. Especially his adopted mother. The only woman he ever really trusted was his grandmother Imogene (Mara's own Adopted Mother). Yet he was terrified to tell her. Paralyzed by thoughts of what Mara would do to him if he told Imogene. Terrified that she too would turn against him, also calling him a LIAR and refusing to take action against his abusers.


This discovery would someday cause a deep rift between Mara and her own adopted mother Imogene. "Jim I don't believe you" she said to the boy now an adult. "Nana. I don't need you to believe me; it isn't going to change what happened." It would be the last time he would see this woman; only learning she had passed away with a phone call from his adopted sister.


"Yeah I thought I should let you know Nana passed away." "When?" The boy's voice cracking. "A few weeks ago." Tears ran down his cheeks. He was angry. HE felt like an afterthought. They didn't even bother to tell him the day she left this earth. He felt completely like an outsider; more like an orphan than an adoptee who has found real love.


Imagine what that does to a child for a minute. Seriously. 

I want you to think about this for a minute. A child whose love language is touch among other things. Gets raped by someone he trusted; and, looked up to. Just imagine how much that destroys a child; destroys safety; destroys their sense of self; and, even their own personal boundaries; and, self worth. Imagine what that does to the child when the love language is attacked violently?

How would that change him? HE would struggle with his flesh; and, the more abusive Mara was; the harder he struggled turning to porn, because it felt remarkably better than the abuse.

Jeff made little Jonathan feel like trash; while telling him “this will feel good; come on you will like it. Just be quiet; and, don’t tell anybody. Shushhhh. Our secret.” It DIDN'T really feel good; and, it left the boy feeling very, very confused; and, feeling even more unworthy of love he desperately, desperately needed.  


At the end of that summer the boy would a third grader at Heritage Hall Lower School in Oklahoma City, a private College Preparatory School. Jonathan’s adopted father Rupert was the lower school principal until he retired. He had been enrolled there since Kindergarten. As a principal’s son whenever anybody got in trouble everybody just assumed little Jonathan ("Jimmy") had been a tattle-tale ratting them out. Even though he hadn’t said a thing.


This year as a third grader would bring an event; an assault by his adopted mother Mara that would change him even more. An event that would flood back into his mind many years later when his best friend Kirk would take his own life. Hanging Himself.


Little Jonathan ("Jimmy") would finally break. Cracking under the pressure of the abuse at home; and, the relentless bullying he received at school. The boy would finally lash angrily out at other students, causing literal physical harm to them.



CHAPTER 4: "PUSH PINS & PIANOS"









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