His Sweetheart

I have bought this story two days ago and I am almost finishing it!! I have never done this before but the story is really awsome. It gives you that strong urge to continue it!! From the title you can percieve suffering!! Yes, a suffering of a child.

I was surprised to know when I was googling it that it is the real story of the writer himself!! I can never imagine there is such cruelty in this world!!

About the Author

Dave Pelzer entered foster care at the age of 12 due to the severe abuse he endured at the hand of his alcoholic mother. The abuse became so terrible that she actually started referring to Dave as “The Boy,” instead of a child, her son, or Dave. At the age of 18 Dave aged out of the foster care system and joined the U.S. Air Force.

Dave has won many awards and personal commendations from Presidents Reagan, Bush, Clinton, and George W. Bush. In 1993, Dave was honored as one of the Ten Outstanding Young Americans. In 1994, he became one of the only United State’s citizens to be awarded as the Outstanding Young Persons of the World, for his efforts in teaching about child abuse and it’s prevention. Dave is also the author of The Lost Boy, A Man Named Dave, The Privilege of Youth, Help Yourself, and Help Yourself for Teens.

So far, those were the passages that really killed me!!

For my punishment, I wasn’t allowed to go with Father and my brothers to the super slide. I sat on a chair in a corner, shivering, hoping that somehing would happen so the three of them wouldn’t leave. I knew Mother had something hideous on her mind. As soon as they left, she brought out one of Russell’s soiled diapers. She smeared the diaper on my face. I tried to sit perfectly still. I knew if I moved, it would only be worse. I didn’t look up. I couldn’t see Mother standing over me but I could hear heavy breathing.

After what seemed like an hour, Mother knelt down beside me and in a soft voice said, “Eat it”.

*Later that night, after I finished all of my evening chores, Mother had me stand by the kitchen table while she and Father talked in the bedroom. In front of me was the bowl of hot dogs that I had vomitted!!. I couldn’t look at it, so I closed my eyes and tried to imagine myself far away from the house. A short time later, Mother and Father stormed into the kitchen. “Look at this, Steve,” Mother barked, thrusting her finger in the direction of the bowl. “So you think The Boy is through stealing food, do you?”

By the look on Father’s face, I could tell he was getting moe and more tired of the constant “What has the boy done now?” routine. Staring at me, he shook his head in disapproval and stammered, “Well, Roerva, if you would just let The Boy have something to eat,”

A heated battle of words broke out in front of me, and as always, Mother won. “EAT? You want The Boy to eat, Stephan? Well, The Boy is going to EAT!! He can eat this, Mother yelled at the top of her lungs, shoving the bowl towards me and atomping off to the bedroom.!!!

Do you think there will be more misery!! It’s really torturing!!