QUESTION ANSWER IN ESSAY FORMAT 2025

 

HOW DID THE VICE MANAGE HIS CRAVINGS?

            I have started a selection of questions that I feel may come up when someone reads my writing and instead of answering later, I can just start with a book now.  This is my first question to attempt to answer. Let’s see what this reveals from my mind of selected works lol got tired of saying flashbacks lol.  In a flashback at the house of hate I recall the Vice Principal of Sam Houston Junior High sitting on a couch placing an order with Robert.  He had more hair and was much younger than when I encountered him in later flashbacks, but he dressed the same.  Like a teacher or a 9 to 5 white-collar worker who used his words in a productive manner.  This was a far cry from the red-necks and blue-collar workers that Robert usually engaged with.  He paid no attention to me even though I stared at him and did not play with my toys on the floor or walk away to do something else.  At this time Robert was keeping girls in the house and when people came over sometimes, they hid in the closet by the master bedroom or he had them tucked into the couch.  One brown couch had a compartment where after you took the cushions off you accessed a lid that ran almost the entire length of the three-cushion couch and I watched the girls slide in on their sides, meaning that in a short time that would be extremely uncomfortable due to all their weight crushing their left arm.  Yes, Robert always put them inside the couch with their head toward the kitchen and their face toward the master bedroom.  Why? Maybe some day that will be revealed, I do know that the brown coach showed up one day and then disappeared on another day.  The reason for its departure was due to Glenda’s complaint about the odor.  Robert would slip these girls in, and I would listen as they cried and begged witch I just now recalled.  Then he would rest atop the cushions with a smile and gloated with such intensity that he looked like another person whenever he made eye contact with me.  Maybe another alter I have yet to identify in Roberts ever branching internal family tree.

            This couch that the Vice Principal was sitting on was not the brown couch, but it had a place underneath that was concave, and a small body could roll underneath and not be touched by the metal ribs that supported the cushions floor.  This one was a three-cushion couch, and I was watching this man partly because I was experiencing dissociation then added to this was where did the girl go.  That girl and I had been playing on the carpet in front of that couch just moments ago and then someone knocked on the door.  My attention went to the door and my small self was working so hard to open it.  Then Robert moved me and reached over and invited the Vice Principal in.  When he sat I was atop the small step by the front door and I just couldn’t figure out where she had gone.  Then as I stood there staring at him I eventually moved closer and leaned against the couch cushion because when Robert put them in they would sob, and I would know where they were.  Then I would purposely be quiet for as long as I could since he usually was working on something or making phone calls when he put her in.  Once he was done and the house was quite, I could ask and point and often he let her back out and we could play.  At night when Glenda was home, she would have him put the girl away for the night.  I would sleep next to the couch because if she was underneath and not inside, I could send toys to her and she and I could whisper.  If I got caught a swinging hand or the heel of Roberts foot would nail me in the head and if he caught me just right, I had to lay flat because my head was spinning.  She would make sounds for me to notice her, but I was too dizzy to respond.  This part here just now arrived, and I feel a release of tension which I am enjoying.

            This girl was maybe 6 years old, and she only had the blue jeans and t-shirt that she arrived in.  She was never changed into anything else, and I think she was in the house at least a week.  This girl was my playmate, and Robert was home every day that she was there but on the phone throughout the day talking about this child.  He made deals and had plans and had pens and pencils atop the dinner table that if I touched would get my legs slapped so hard that I had to crawl away from where he left me on the floor and if I didn’t stop crying he would pursue me then grab my leg and hang me upside down and put me in the closet closest to the master bedroom and leave me in the dark.  I was not big enough to work that doorknob and honestly couldn’t find it in the dark.  No amount of protest would get me free from this jail cell and I often just gave up and listened to him on the phone or made the girl cry doing whatever he was doing to her.  Then suddenly the closet door opened, and Glenda would walk in, and her arrival was my reprieve.  This whole part about the closet and being upside down just floated free from the depths of my amnesia.  I am enjoying this exercise. These small releases where its just additional content and not horrific deaths really feel like relaxing bubbles tickling your psyche and not impact with force due to the momentum it builds as it ascends.

            My exposure in relation to the Vice Principal grew to a daily grind of fearing what would he do next.  Once I attended his school, he made me endure these stare downs when I crossed his path.  Many times, he stood directly in front of where I was walking, and I would have to steer clear of him so quickly that once or twice my heel popped out of my shoe.  Looking back on this information that just filled my head I believe that he was trying to get me to run into him so that he would have reason to take me behind closed doors in his office.  Other teachers noticed this behavior and none intervened, he would even stalk me at the water fountain and the boy’s bathroom rushing me and causing me to dribble water on my shirt due to how intense he used his voice to startle me.  Several times when I was using the bathroom he would bust in with a baritone voice and start yelling at me about how the bathroom was for students who didn’t have tardies.  Many times, I urinated part of my bladder release in my pants and occasionally on my shirt as I tried to tuck it in.  When he cornered me in the stalls, he yanked me out mid poop and I would either finish on the floor or in my pants and he would stand between me and the opening and start pushing me out of the bathroom as I tried to wrestle my pants up and had no time to clean myself.  Then the rest of the day other kids thought I had gas and would turn me into the teacher and then I would be moved away from the group with tears in my eyes because I was so scared of his repercussions that I couldn’t explain what had happened.  Then the bullies would push me down and hit me in the shoulders and upper back accusing me of spending my class time farting on their girlfriends.  This was when I accidently found the fire escape when they attacked me up by my locker and I was pushed against the door.  I then knew what was on the other side of those ominous doors, I also learned that they would not open from my side and the bullies laughed at me.  They were so loud that a teacher came and pulled me through the door and then sent me to the vice principal from playing in the fire escape and that was my first detention that he made me serve that afternoon.  Once released I ran home by running, then stopped to breath and running some more, I was so scared of what would happen to me if I was late getting home and Glenda found out that I had detention.  At home nothing happened, and I fell asleep due to expending all that energy dealing with stress and trauma of junior high.  I am trying to stay focused upon the title of this question format, but more and more repressed parts keep sliding through and entering my conscious mind and then I am off on a tangent of forgotten content.  I hope you experience this too. It is a very cleansing experience, and I am enjoying the process. It makes me feel rejuvenated at the end of a long writing day.

            Part of how the Vice endured his sadistic needs was by making my life as miserable as he could within the confines of school discipline.  He was citing tardies as his ticket to harass me and never stopped even when I was lying on the tile floor in the boy’s bathroom at the end of the ramp looking up at him sobbing so uncontrollably that I couldn’t speak.  My pants had tripped me up and caused me to fall and got tangled around my knees. I was still not clean from my bowel movement and then he started to kick my legs.  Boys had gathered at the door, and he left me on the floor sobbing as I could hear him yelling at the others to get to class.  He came back in and picked me up by my hair and neck then pushed me hard toward the commode and I fell between the toilet and the divider wall.  That wall stopped about a foot from the floor, and I was left trying to work myself free from this awkward spot between two toilets and under a divider.  My poop was scattered on the floor in front of one of the commodes and my legs were still trapped by my pants being entangled due to my shoes.  My shoes where these rubber soled sneakers and their soles grabbed my pants denim in such a way that I had to kick everything off and for several moments I was naked from the waist down.  My mind was racing, and I was trying to get my shoes out of my pant legs while fighting the urge to continue pooping.  I sat atop the second toilet while freeing my shoes and breathing through sobs praying to God that no one would come in and then consequently tell on me.  My greatest fear is that the Vice would come back to find me in this state and call Glenda, and I would get beat at home.  My brain had already repressed the fact that he did this to me, and I was surviving his attack.  Once again, my past is floating like oxygen filled diver bags used to lift artifacts from the sea for recovery.

            Wow I have been typing in one manner or another since 1pm today and now it’s 9:15pm and I am still going strong.  The way that these mini flashbacks are popping up has given me that runners second win and I am running fast hoping not to windmill before the finish line.  The answer that I have found is very different than the content I was going to add.  I watch the Vice harass and intimidate Mexican girls who barley spoke English until I watched them run out the front door of the school and then I never saw them again.  I know for a fact that he beat me senselessly many times and threw me down the fire escape that in the beginning was a secret place for me to hide.  Then the beatings I took behind the school and the time he attempted to throw me over the wall behind the gymnasium.  Also let’s not forget him hanging my body by the throat as he strangled me against his office door after I walked in on him and Mrs. Green who he had bent over his desk.  These were my topics of exploration and then like a rouge wave at sea my whole ship sailing the conscious mind of tranquility began to slam its bow between the rising waves and then lift my soul with an orchestra of tiny bubbles set free by my amnesic mind since today of all days it chose to be kind lol.  Starbucks is closing and into the night I must go what a great day even if I type slow.  May you have bubbles of your own when you need them most but remember mine didn’t show for decades, when I was more advanced than I had ever been and thought my soul so damaged that it had split into a twin.  LOL love you all goodnight.