This is the 4th and hopefully last chapter of my childhood story. After this I will begin "Surviving the Transition to Manhood", which likely also be a multi-part story.

If you haven't done so already please read "The horror that was my childhood - a tale of survival against the greatest of odds! [Part 1],[Part 2] & [Part 3]" before proceeding any further.

 IF YOU ARE PRONE TO VIOLENT OR EMOTIONAL OUTBURSTS DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! 

 Ward of the state (continued):

So later that afternoon my case worker, Linda Crew took me to meet my new foster dad at his transmission repair shop in Dallas, GA. Gene Neathawk (the new foster dad) was covered in grease from his nose to his toes but seemed rather likable. After a brief introduction she left me there, I had nothing but the clothes on my back at this point. Gene immediately called his wife, Diane, at home and had her go out and buy me some clothes. She stopped by the shop on the way to the store to confirm my sizes, I don't think she trusted Gene to get them right.

Later that evening I arrived at my new home, Gene & Diane had a son (Craig) and another, younger, foster boy named Cody. Cody and I would share a bedroom (bunk beds - yuk!) but he was a cool kid. Craig on the other hand was a few years older and thought he was a bad ass because he had a dirt bike. I am not sure how long I was there, a couple months I think but it did get interesting.

About the time I thought I was finally "home" and "safe" the Neathawk's petitioned the state to Adopt me. Before the ink had even dried the state yanked me out of the house and began a year or so, we ain't letting you get comfortable again, bonanza. I was constantly moved from one group home to the next, from foster family to foster family and from Emergency Shelter (for runaways - they were even more fucked up than me). 

Finally, I landed at Murphy-Harps Vashti United Methodist Children's Home in Cedartown, GA. This place was cool, it sat up on a hill and was an old university or reform school or something. They had a huge swimming pool, arts & crafts, Boy Scouts, on-site counselors, doctors, nurses, etc. They even gave you an allowance to buy clothes and other stuff with every few months. It isn't a real home, but "it will do just nicely" I thought.

Well that dream didn't last long either. Within a few days I was getting tormented and frequently beat up by other kids at the group home. Kids, that the staff members where so scared of that I got the blame and punishment and they got commendations. Needless to say this pissed me the hell off, so I started going to the counselor to complain. On my 3rd (or so) visit he proceeded to make a pass at me. I was only 14 for fucks sake!

Not knowing what else to do I kept going to the Therapist. By this point I was convinced the problem was me and that all these bad things were happening to me because of who I was or how I behaved. The counselor of course encouraged this belief until I was so weak minded he could do what he wanted to with me. When I realized what was really happening, and regained a little strength, I started hiding out at the group home. That's when one of the maintenance men found me and he proceeded to molest me as well.

Feeling like I had no other alternative, I went back to the staff that had allowed near daily beatings and told them. They quite literally laughed in my face. So I began running away, 38 times in a few months. Thirty Seven of those times I went straight to the police and reported the abuse and all 37 times they didn't believe me, they just loaded me up and took me back to the group home. On the 38th time I hitchhiked almost 100 miles to my grandparents house.

It didn't take the state long to figure out where I was and when they did they told my grandparents to bring me to a meeting at DEFACS (Department of Children and Family Services) in Dallas, GA the following Wednesday. We arrived to the meeting and Linda Crew (my case work) took us into a conference room. We talked and she seemed really concerned for me and acted as if she believed me. It was just a ruse to get me there long enough for the police to show up. At which point Linda told me she was sending me to the Hospital for a checkup.

That lying fucking cow sent me to Northwest Georgia Regional Medical Center (a funny farm). As soon as I realized what was happening I started screaming I wasn't crazy or making it up, but she said she didn't believe me. The same day I was admitted the Georgia Bureau of Investigations (GBI) came to the hospital and talked to me, then went to the group home and shut it down. They arrested a dozen staff members on the spot.

I found out the next day what the GBI had done and called Linda Crew to get me out of there. She told me she would have me out Monday. Monday came and went so I called back and she said Friday. Friday I called and it was Wednesday. Wednesday it was Monday and so on and so on. Well after about a week, the librarian at my last high school, the one that got me into writing and got several of my short stories and poems published, found out where I was and came to see me one Saturday. The staff locked us in the cafeteria for 2 hours.

The very next weekend, she came back to see me and brought me a roll of quarters (for the payphone), some cologne (Polo), some candy and a condom. Yes she brought a condom. The cafeteria they locked us in had no camera's. I had been flirting with her for months and finally she decided to give me some. For 1.5 hours we screwed on a dining table like it was the end of the world.

After that, every Saturday she would come see me, fuck my brains out and then leave money, candy, clothes, etc. she had brought for me. During this time I used the quarters she would bring me to track down my dad. He was no living in Texas. He agreed to take custody of me but the State of Georgia wouldn't give it to him, he had to become a foster parent in the State of Texas and then petition Georgia to transfer me to Texas CPS (Children's Protective Service) custody. So for 3.5 months I sat in the Mental Hospital....my only saving grace was the Saturday visits with the hot 28 year old librarian.

Finally, Linda Crew shows up to take me to Atlanta, GA and put me on a bus to my dad's. Of course everything I had when I was in the group home was now lost or stolen so she said we had to stop by her house to pickup some money so she could buy me some clothes and give me money to eat on during my bus ride. I sat in the car about 30 minutes waiting on her, finally I walked into the house (front door was open) and she was sitting on the couch butt ass naked with the biggest fucking vibrator I had ever seen between her legs. Before I could even say anything she chirped "its about time". I knew that was my cue and before she got the vibrator out I was naked and between her legs. Although, I had never flirted with her I damn sure had more than a few wet dreams thinking about her. She was in her 30's, married with kids and still fine as could be.

After we finished we got back in the car, went to Kmart and I picked out 3-4 changes of clothes and a backpack and then she takes me to Atlanta. Once we arrive at the Greyhound bus terminal she hands me $100 and goes and buys my ticket. I never saw or talked to her again after that, although I think about that day more than I probably should.

Daddy's Home:

Two days and the biggest damn blizzard to ever hit the south later I arrived in Dallas, TX at the bus station. I got off the bus and walked into the terminal and saw dad sitting there. When he realized who I was he said "let's go". No hug, no I missed you.....just "let's go". As we where climbing in his pickup he told me "There is something you need to know about me son, I am the horniest man alive....so whatever you do don't tell Linda". I didn't remember it at the time, but back when I was living on Dauphin Island with my mom, two trailers down from my Dad and Stepmom I came home and caught mommy and daddy doing the nasty. I immediately ran and told my stepmom....I really did love her more than my own parents and still to this day do.

I kind of knew right then that things just were not going to work out with my dad. Almost as soon as we got to Fort Worth to his house he started in on me. Immediately my stepmom jumped his shit, which made things even worse between us, but it earned my respect of her.

At the age of 15 I had taken all dad's crap I was going to take, and all the ass kicking too. So I packed my shit and left. Having no where to go I decided to go back to Georgia to my mom....I know "What the hell was I thinking". That lasted all of two weeks and I was out on the street with nothing. I literally was ran out of her house with nothing but a pair of shorts on....no shoes, no shirt, no wallet....just a pair of shorts.

By the time I made it from her house to Atlanta I was fully dressed, had a full belly and a pocket full of money. Being a kid on the road had it's advantages....but it had its disadvantages too.

*** This ends "The horror that was my childhood - a tale of survival against the greatest of odds!" but I will start the next series "Surviving the Transition to Manhood" very soon so make sure you Follow Me and check back often. ***