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Abuse Has Consequences

J. Ross Archer

    Someone abuses a child every five minutes in this country. Billy Smith is one of those victims; his story begins at his home, if one could call it home, and ends at his home, but under tragic circumstances. He goes through life knowing nothing but rejection and mistreatment; misery and coldness, never love. Billy does not know Jesus or a church; thus, he has no spiritual strength to cope with the regular physical and mental abuse he regularly receives. He has no one to call on for support except his school counselor, and that’s hit and miss. So, he lives a lonely existence with his awful handicap; his legs are severely deformed legs that are marginally controllable, making it painful and awkward to walk. And it’s been that way for as long as he can remember. Billy’s classmates remind him daily of how freakish he looks and that he walks like a drunk.
    “Billy, you get down here this instant,” said Emily Smith, Billy’s mom; she shouted for Billy several times, louder each time. You get down here now, you insufferable cripple!”
    There does not appear to be one direct cause for Mrs. Smith’s attitude toward Billy; however, her background suggests several issues that might be causal. Nonetheless, she beats Billy regularly—his handicap be dammed.
    “I’m coming as fast as I can move, mother.”
    “Well, it’s not fast enough, you little turd.”
    “Give him time, mom, remember he’s slower than the rest of us mentally and physically,” said Billy’s brother, Tommy. And he throws his arms up in the air to show disapproval of how his mother treats Billy—Tommy’s brave silent response to his mother is probably because Mrs. Smith no longer beats him. After all, he’s too big.
    “Come on, or you will be late for school. You know it takes you a long time to hop sideways like a western sidewinder to get there,” said Emily.
    Emily Smith has given up on life; she was 19 years old when she married the boys’ father, and he left them right after she got pregnant with Billy. Emily struggled to support herself and the boys, usually by having a long line of boyfriends hanging around the house. Her life circumstances and choices have denied Emily the lifestyle she wanted and felt she deserved. By the time she was 24 years old, Emily had become imbittered at life and her children. She considers her children contributors to her unhappiness, and she has not one friend to share her sorrow. So, it stands to reason, his mother’s lifestyle added to Billy’s feeling of being unloved.
    Tommy is two years older than Billy and has always sympathized with Billy to improve his relationship with their mother but to no avail.il. His attempts to lessen his mother’s hostility toward Billy fall on deaf ears.
    More harassment comes from Emily before Billy can get out the door.
    “Tommy, I have to put up with enough from my classmates without my mother being hateful to me, too. I wish you would ask her why she hates me and makes fun of me like everyone else—you’re my brother; you’re the one person I should be able to turn to for help and understanding. Well, don’t stand there; say something!”
    “Maybe you’re right, Billy. I have thought about how she treats you; I guess it has become a bad habit for me to go along with my mother to get along with her. The older I get, the more I see the wrong in how she’s treated you over the years, and I promise to do better about taking up for you.” Tommy hangs his head and walks away.
    I can’t believe what Tommy just said. Could he be serious? With renewed hope for his circumstances, Billy begins the slow and painful walk to school with his head hanging low and mumbling to himself. Eight blocks are like eight miles for a person with Tommy’s disabilities.
    “Are all families like mine? I sure hope they aren’t. No, all families could not be like mine! Why does everyone hate me so much? What have I done to make them so angry with me? I don’t understand; I try to do everything they ask me to do; I know I’m slow, but I guess working to the best of my ability isn’t enough, but what must I do to change the way I have to live?” That’s a question Billy often asks himself.
    Billy often talks to himself because no one else will speak to him except the school counselor; Mr. Ford would often see Billy in the halls and invite him to his office for conversation and a Coca-Cola. These occasions are the only bright spots in Billy’s sad life, but Mr. Ford is transferring to another school at the end of this school year, then; “who will listen to my problems?”, considered Billy.
    Mr. Ford is aware of Billy’s circumstances. Still, the many attempts to get an appointment with Mrs. Smith to discuss Billy’s need for professional treatment for clinical depression didn’t go well. Mrs. Smith would insist nothing was wrong with Billy that would call for such drastic action, so he finally gave up trying to help.
    xxx
    Billy finally makes it to school, going through a gauntlet of harassment and name-calling. What a way to start the school day, thought Billy.
    He makes it to his classroom, exhausted physically and rejected mentally.
    The rest of his day at school follows the usual pattern of abuse from classmates and disappointment in a teacher who looks away and never notices what is happening to Billy. He makes it home from school with only one encounter with an obnoxious classmate, a record of some kind, he thought.
    Billy’s self-image declines as the coming days, weeks, and months pass with no let-up in the way people treat him, and he sinks lower into despair. When he gets home, he finds his mother waiting for him—a rare and frightening occasion.
    “Billy, you come in here now; we have to talk—at least I have something to tell you.”
    “What is it, mother? What did I do this time?”
    “You be quiet and listen to me for a minute. Billy, I’m going to put you in a state school for boys. I can’t take care of you and your brother both anymore. It’s all arranged, so there’s no need to discuss the matter any further. I’ve already packed your things, and the suitcase is on your bed. You go on upstairs and see if I missed packing something. Hurry because your ride will be here any minute.”
    Billy was stunned; he felt as though someone had pulled the world from underneath him; he could not speak for a few seconds. His ears rang; he began to sweat; he didn’t know how to respond to his mother. In all his years of mistreatment, he did not expect anything like this to happen to him. Did his mother hate him that much—to send him away? He would be an orphan, but maybe it was a joke. Surely his mother could not hate him that much. “What makes me attract so much hostility? How could she despise me enough to send me away?” Billy’s rational thought process snapped, and he crawled upstairs to his room to discuss these new developments with his confidant, Winston.
    In his room, Billy often talks to his raggedy old teddy bear, Winston, whose imaginary name is Winston. Billy thinks this habit is okay as he has been doing this for a long time because he has no one else to talk to—not one friend.
    “Winston, what am I going to do? Everyone hates me but Mr. Ford and Tommy. My mother hates me and wishes I would disappear, and now she’s found a way to make it happen. Everybody makes fun of my handicap; they call me ugly names and play nasty jokes on me, and now this. Winston, my name is Monster Smith at school; how do you like that? Will it be any different at this place where she’s sending me?” Billy was crying hard now, and he spoke in short jerks.
    “What’s that, Winston? Did you say what I think you said? I think you meant for me to do something about it, like end it. Billy sniffled and wiped his eyes. What did you mean by end it, Winston, my life? Pause. Yeah, that’s what I thought you meant; kill myself and be done with all the pain and misery.”
    “Billy, even your mother, and classmates, had just as soon you disappeared from their lives—to heck with yours; they don’t love you.”
    “I know they don’t love me, Winston, but I don’t know about killing myself; I’ve thought about it before, but that’s as far as I’ve gotten with it. Take my own life, hmmm. I’ll give it more thought, Winston, and I’ll let you know the outcome of my thinking, but that’s a big decision, my friend.”
    “Think nothing about it, Billy; no one will miss you. It will be good riddance as far as your school and your mother is concerned, and you’ll be going to a better and beautiful life. People in heaven will love you, and our Lord will heal your handicap. Think about it, Billy, people in heaven, will love you, Billy, and this place will remove your handicap; think of that, my friend; you should give this possible solution some serious thought, Billy.”
    “Yes, Winston, I promise I will, dear friend, but I don’t know about heaven, God, and that stuff—I’ll take your word for it.
    Billy wiped the tears from his face and laid on his bed to consider his conversation with Winston, and tears flowed freely.
    Mrs. Smith yelled up the stairs for Billy to come downstairs, now so as not to make his ride wait.
    “Billy, dam it, get down here, or I’ll come up there and get you, and you don’t want that to happen. Now, come on, get your sorry butt down here.”
    There is no reply from Billy, not a sound. Mrs. Smith climbs the stairs to fetch her least favorite son, and his room is empty; there is no sign of him anywhere.
    “Well, dam, said Emily, where is he—oh, the bathroom, but the door is locked. Tommy, come get the bathroom door open,” she yelled. There’s no immediate response from Tommy, so she opens the door to Tommy’s room. He had been sleeping; Tommy sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. When Tommy became clear-headed, he forces the door open, sucks in a large breath, and freezes in place. Billy is hanging by the neck from the light fixture. He’s no longer a problem for anyone.
    “Is he dead, Tommy?”
    “Yes. Billy is dead, mother. Are you happy now? Tears start to flow down Tommy’s face. He gives his mother an angry look and says: “You are responsible for this; you made him do this!” Tommy ran from the house, slamming the front door as he left.
    “Well, what should I do now? I’ll call the sheriff; he will know what to do.”
    Mrs. Smith did not shed a tear for Billy. The boy died without ever experiencing the love of family—or anyone but his imaginary friend, Winston, and maybe Tommy.
    When Mr. Ford learned of Billy’s death, he said to a student in his office, “We must never forget that abuse has consequences.”

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