Timothy

By: Terry
(© 2012 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Timothy was born to Sarah and John White on the 12th of July 2005. At 3lbs 5 ounces his weight was well below normal. To all you modern folks, that's 1.5 Kilograms [kg]. It seemed that problems for the boy were going to strike from the start. A small baby by any stretch of the imagination. He wasn't born premature, but was a normal delivery and on time. However, young Timothy was put straight into the incubator due to him being under-weight.

After 2 weeks, his weight nearly doubled, so mom and baby were allowed to go home. What wasn't known was that Sarah didn't want little Timothy and neither did his dad. From the minute she became pregnant, he was despised. When he was born, despise had turned to hate. Dad didn't care either way. A woman, sex, booze, and drugs, as long as he had those, nothing concerned him.

Young Timothy was doomed from the start. Attention was something he got when he was in trouble. Love and concern were non-existent. The boy was left in his crib for hours on end, sometimes days. His diaper usually fell off him, being so long between changes. Some days the boy was left crying for attention, pain, or just boredom. Loneliness affects all ages.

In his very short life, Timothy was Ill-treated and beaten.... often. By the time he was seven, everything was to be feared. He never smiled or laughed like other kids. He never went outside. He had no friends and little chance of making any. TV, DVD, and playing games would be a mystery to the boy. Timothy never went to school, so learning was something he never knew.

Mom shouted to him to come downstairs, and she got even angrier when he didn’t answer straight away. Her voice, already a screaming pitch, kept getting louder and louder. He ran as fast as his little legs would take him, so as not to aggravate his mom any more. His mom was in the kitchen when he reached the bottom of the stairs. Mom screamed at him. Timothy was hit, and hit, and hit. He tried to say he was sorry, but his mom didn't hear him, she was too much out of control. His beating was worse than usual, and he was left where he lay, barely conscious, barely alive. Trying to move hurt, hurt so bad. With sharp pains in his stomach and abdomen, his face now swollen, his eyes black and blue and almost closed. Colors you would see on a rainbow could now describe Timothy's whole body. He lay there for hours, not even daring to cry or make a sound.

When his dad finally came home and saw the boy lying on the floor half dead, he screamed blue murder. “What the f**k have you done, you stupid bitch?” Not once showing any concern at how bad Timothy was hurt.

“He wouldn't stop wailing.”

“Was he hungry, did you feed him?”

“I can't do it all, you're never here to help. He's your son, too!”

“You stupid bitch, I work, you look after the kid. You sit around the house all day drinking and taking drugs. You're too f**kin' lazy to work, so I have to. The kid probably belongs to one of your bits on the side anyway. You’re a f**kin' whore.”

Dad walked into the kitchen with mom screaming and shouting at him. Bang, bang, mom fell to floor and didn't move.

Timothy was too scared to even move. His dad walked up to him, kicked him in the head, then walked away. Timothy blacked out.

Timothy woke up to screams coming from outside the house. He opened his eyes and tried to move, but he couldn't. Later, he could hear somebody asking him something, but he didn't know what. He slumped, unconscious again.

“Timothy.” I heard someone say, then “he's waking up, doctor.” I looked around, but didn't know where I was. There was a man in a white coat and a lady with a smile on her face. I tried to move, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't.

“Hello, Timothy,” the man said. I tried to move again. “Try and stay still, you’re in hospital.” I looked at the man, the lady was squeezing my arm. I tried to pull away, but she held my wrist tight.

“I'm taking your pulse, sweetie.” Then she put her hand on my forehead.

I just lay there staring into space. It's frightening when you've never been outside before. I was scared. I had no idea what a doctor or a nurse was. I looked around again and tried to take notice of where I was. The walls had pictures of animals and small children smiling. A big blue train was on the wall near the window. The pictures were nice, but they were nothing more than a plain wall to me. At the time, I didn't know they were cartoons characters and pictures, but I thought they looked nice.

The nurse came to me and brushed my hair back, then asked if I was hungry. My head was swimming . . . they weren't screaming at me . . . they were being nice. I looked up at her and smiled. She let her hand go down to my cheek while smiling back. My stomach growled. “We’d better get you something to eat before that attacks us,” she said smiling. Then the lady and the man left.

She came back with soup, bread, and something to drink. If I could have eaten the bowl, I thought it would’ve tasted as good as the soup. “My, you were hungry,” the lady said when she came back into the room. I gave her a smile and she squeezed my hand, then the doctor came back into the room.

The man in the white coat walked to the side of the bed and looked at me smiling and then started to tell me why I was in hospital. I had a metal rod in my leg where it was broken. They said it was broken in two places. They told me about my left collar bone and about my right wrist being broken also. The plaster on my wrist was heavy and uncomfortable, it also itched like crazy. Then they told me about my broken nose. They said my eyes were black and it might take a few days for the swelling on my face to start to go down. Kids don't like pain, but with them being nice it didn't hurt as much.

I have no mom or dad now since my dad killed my mum, and now my dad’s in prison. I can't say I'm alone, because I’ve always been alone. I have to go and live with other kids and it frightens me. They couldn't let me go until I was healed they said. I found out after I grew up how long that would take.

When I was healed, they sent me to live with a lot of other kids. They called it an orphanage. Mrs. Dawson picked me up at the hospital to take me to my new home. Mrs. Walters was nice, she kissed me and gave me a hug. She gave me a room on my own, so I could get well properly. The room was like the one at the hospital, but with no pictures on the walls.

I stayed in my new room for a few days, it was quiet and boring. One day Mrs. Walters came to my room with another kid, Jeff was his name. I was going to be in his room. I was being moved that afternoon, so I got scared again.

Just before dinner, they came to take me to my new room. Tomorrow they said they were taking me into town to get me some shoes and clothes.

Jeff sat on his bed just staring at me. I mean really staring. He was 7 years old, but looked older. I would be 8 in a few months.

“What!” I said. “My mom would have thrown me to the other end of the room for what you are doing, it's rude.” He pouted, then lay down facing the window. “I'm sorry.” I said.

After a few minutes he turned around to face me. Still saying nothing, then “It's okay,” he said, getting off his bed. “They said I have to be nice to you,  because you've never had any friends. Why”

“Because I never went outside the house, I wasn't allowed.”

“Didn't you go to school?” School was something I'd never heard of till I came here.

“No, I told you I was never allowed outside. And I don't know how to read or write, so if you want to hate me and make fun of me, do it when you’re on your own.” He told me he couldn't read or write either till he came to the orphanage. He didn't ask about my mom and dad, which was good.

This people thing is hard, all I seem to be doing is saying sorry. “Sorry again!”  He giggled. “Not funny.” That's all it took for him to start laughing. It was funny when he rolled off his bed. When he shouted “Ouch” I couldn't help but laugh.

We came down from our giggling fit and lay on our beds exhausted. “Jeff, how did you end up in here?”

“I've been here about a year. I was living with a lot of different people for awhile. Mrs. Walters said my mom gave me up when I was born, so I was put into foster care. She said all the other people I had stayed with were.... foster people, I think. When they said I was going to get another roommate I thought it was great, but scary. My last roommate was David, he got adopted last week. I'm glad he's gone, he was always complaining at me for things I didn't do. About 2 months ago he broke my nose, he said I was talking in my sleep. If I was, it's not my fault. His lip started to quiver. When Mrs. Walters said you were moving in with me, I wanted to check out who this Timothy was. I'll call you Tim, that’s easier to remember. Anyway, I know you're not going to beat me up, you're too nice.” Then he giggled again. “What about you? How did you end up in here.” I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling.

“I don't know if I can tell you??” Then I started crying like a baby. He came over and held me.

“It's alright,” he said, “you don't have to tell me.”

I just lay there staring at the ceiling, crying. Jeff never moved or said anything. “My mom and dad never wanted me. If I ever saw them it was when they were shouting at me or hitting me. They said how they wished I wasn't around. “Why don't you just die,” my mom often said. Once when she had finished hitting me with her shoe, she said she wished everyday that I would just die.”

I lay on my belly with my head on the pillow. I couldn't stop crying. It hurt so much. “WHAT DID I DO WRONG??” Then I cried some more. I couldn't breathe . . . I started to get dizzy . . . I heard Jeff screaming for Mrs. Walters. My head hurt so bad.

When I heard Mrs. Walters telling me it would be all right, my head shot off her shoulder so fast it hurt. She started to stroke my hair, she did it so softly. I soon calmed down. She left when I said I was going to be okay. “You okay,” Jeff said. I nodded. “Sorry,” he said, “but I got scared.”

I giggled when he said sorry. He giggled too, but I don't think he knew why. “You want to go watch some TV?”

“No thanks.” He came over and put his arm around my shoulder. I must have dropped off to sleep. I woke up in time for breakfast. After we'd eaten, I asked Jeff if he wanted to go outside. I was scared but I suppose I have to try.

“I don't mind, but it depends on if it's raining. Which means we'll never get out,” then laughed. We can go and ask. Mrs. Walters said it was okay as long as we stay where she can see us. “I'll go get a football.”

“Football?”

“Yea, it's where you try and get the ball in the nets. Stay there. He came back with a big ball. You see the posts over there, well kick the ball into them,” I kicked it over the top. Jeff looked at me with mock anger, then went to get the ball. We both laughed and giggled and it was fun. It was lunch time before we knew it, so we picked up the ball and went inside. Play is good, but food is better. This was the first time I had done what you call 'play'. It was fun, and fun makes you laugh. I like laughing better than crying.

During lunch, we carried on the banter from outside. We were told a few times in no uncertain terms to be quiet or go to our room. Don't they see that we are two kids with nothing to smile about, but doing it anyway. After lunch, we sneaked off to the park. I was goggle-eyed at... at I don't know. I went over to a bench and sat down. I was overwhelmed by it all. From sitting huddled in a corner with fear, I now had freedom. I couldn't handle it.

Jeff saw me sitting alone and came over. “You all right?” I stared at him longingly ... I think for an answer. To what I don't know.

“Yeh, I'm fine. We went to play on the swings. I got high into the sky, it felt like I was flying “Wheeee” I jumped off the swing and ran, flapping my wings like a bird. Up,up,up into the clouds, looking at everything as I flew this way, then that way, then circled around. I was free, free as a bird... Then I dropped my arms to my side, slumped to my knees and sobbed. A few kids and adults stopped, looked at me, then walked on. Jeff was the only one to help me.

I woke up with a best friend, an only friend, rocking me like a baby. I wanted to die. This was grief, one person dying, while another one was being born.

“Being locked up for a long time was bad. But now I’m even more scared, really scared of being out, scared of people. I was being pushed into a life that was even scarier than the one I’d had.”

In my head I wanted to die, but the rest of me wasn't sure. My head was spinning round and round. I lay in bed that night, my head hurting. The moon shone bright with an eerie silence and an eerie light. I pulled the blanket close to me and held it with a death grip. I looked over at Jeff and smiled. He didn't ask for anything, he didn't want anything other than just a friend. A friend. Sleep came slowly.

The morning seemed different from other mornings. Jeff tried to speak to me, but I ignored him. Why was I taking it out on him? That was another question I didn't know the answer to. Me and Jeff were the same. He wanted the same thing that seemed to elude maybe both of us. A future.

I stayed in my room most of the day, only coming out to wash and use the toilet. I was in a world somewhere else. Sometime during the day I wet myself, I didn't even know it. My head was ringing with the thoughts of my mom and dad. What did I do that was so bad?

Peace it seemed would be a pencil and paper to write a note to the only friend he’d ever had, but that wasn't reality. He lay on his bed staring into the blackness. The dark thoughts again jumped into my head. God and Jesus he was told were good. Tonight was going to be his last night, then he thought about Jeff!”

Jeff, was his bestist, bestist friend in the whole world. Jeff told him friends look out for each other, but how can I look out for Jeff?

“Well, couldn’t you try?”

His head started hurting again, and it doesn't seem fair to hurt Jeff too. He liked me, why didn’t my mom and dad like me? I tried to be good, I didn't want to be bad, I swear. My dad said that God helps those who help themselves. I have never met God, but I hope he won't get angry. I tried to help myself, Jeff, but I'm too small.

Sleep was a blessing, or was it a dream? He thought as all went black.

Morning came as usual. Jeff woke me by blowing in my ear. I swatted a few times, then ended up hitting myself, which got Jeff giggling. The sun shone so bright you didn't dare look up. I smiled....

Posted: 08/31/12