Living In the Nightmares’ Shadow
no sex plot
Chapter 2
Once her hair and make-up were done she settled on the comfortable, over-stuffed couch. Rosie sat slight off to one side, where she was able to look at Toni and stay out of the way of the cameras. After a few last minute checks to ensure everything was functional, they were ready to go.
For the first hour they covered the normal, mundane things such as how the band was formed, where they got their start, their music, etc. Once the ‘fluffy, celebrity-friendly’ topics were covered the topic shifted to what the tabloids, media and celebrity watchers around the world were in frothing fit over.
After a quick glance at her notes, Rosie looked back at the diminutive, blonde singer sitting across from her. “Before jumping into the current turmoil let’s cover a bit of background so we can understand what’s going on and how it got to this point in time.
“When you were 11 children’s services removed you from your biological parents because of what they called ‘horrific abuse that had been ongoing for an extended period of time’. Was this their first brush with children’s services or had they been involved before that?”
Giving a bit of a wry smile, Toni shook her head. “Before I go into that you need to realize that I was fairly young when it all happened and a lot of things I don’t remember. What I do know comes from some memories but mostly from records and court documents that I’ve used to piece things together.
“No, my parents were well known to CS by that time. In fact, I was placed in foster care once before. Eventually, they returned custody to my parents. Of course they went on what I refer to now as the CP merry-go-round. I do remember the social worker that managed my case at the time assured me that things would improve because they were taking parenting classes, anger management classes, therapy so they wouldn’t do it again. From my point of view, and with hindsight, I’m guessing my parents did/said the right things, jumped through all the hoops, professed to be sorry for what happened, all the things CS wanted from them but had no intention of changing their ways. While they were still under scrutiny they were model parents but when CS closed the case and they were no longer being watched things quickly reverted back to the way it was before CS stepped in.”
“After the last removal, did you think it was going to be different than before or did you think you would be returned again? Or can’t you remember your thoughts and feelings on the matter?”
“Oh, I have no problem what so ever remembering what I thought about the matter! As they were loading me into the ambulance and the caseworker was assuring me that I was going to be fine I was convinced, beyond a shadow of doubt, that I would be going back to them at some point. Even at 11 I knew my dad had a way of getting what he wanted or his way in things. He was, and more than likely still is from what I’ve seen and heard of him now, a master at manipulation. Along with that he always seemed to find a way to wiggle out of trouble. In my eyes at the time he was almost god-like, someone who was so powerful that he was untouchable. My view of what was going on seemed to run along the lines that it was something like a vacation from him and my mother; eventually I was going to go home and things would go back to the way they were before I left.”
“Once you were released from the hospital you went to live with what are now your parents: Elvin and Dolores Blenkinsopp. From what they’ve said in interviews in the past they said you were scared of them. For a long time as a matter of fact. Is that true?”
Chuckling, Toni’s’ eyes sparkled, “Scared wasn’t the word, petrified comes closer to what I felt.”
Yes petrified was closer to the terror she felt in their presence from the first meeting but even that didn’t come close to the level of terror she had felt in what was to become her adoptive parents. That word was easy to say as well but it was still hard to remember the gut-wrenching fear she felt at the introduction to the people she now loved so dearly. Dolores, now her mother, was a tall woman-close to 6 foot in her stocking feet, her build somewhere between thin and normal with normal sized curves. She had sharp, thin facial features and a nose that was a bit beaky. But it was her eyes that had caused the most fear; they were a clear, ice blue that seemed sharp and almost cruel. Now she didn’t see them that way, from the years of living with her she knew that look well; it was the look of anger, not at her, no, but at the person who would dare hurt a child. She had seen that look since that time and it was a look that had never been directed her direction but at anyone that would dare injure a child, any child, it didn’t matter. It did indeed make her look cold and cruel but she wasn’t. In fact it was the opposite; she was one of the warmest and most loving people she had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Soft and kind, she genuinely cared about everyone, even those she hadn’t met that were hurting. She did her best to help the suffering in those she knew the best she could, always there with a kind word and a plan to try to fix what was wrong. Although she was older at the time, in her mid-50’s, with salt and pepper hair, she didn’t look grandmotherly or old, but like a middle aged woman.
It was Elvin, Ell to his friends and almost all that knew him, that had struck the most terror in her. He was huge, 6’5” and 250 lbs of muscle that was starting to go to seed then, the beginnings of his pot belly already in view. It was his hands that she remembered most, they were huge, seeming to be the size of dinner plates in her eyes at the time, worn and calloused; strong workman’s’ hands. Despite his size he did look grandfatherly, his hair was iron gray and there were deep wrinkles on his sun-blasted, tanned face. In contrast to his wife his brown eyes were friendly looking, like the eyes of a basset hound that fit perfectly in his face, giving him a trusting look. While his size was frightening it was his deep, gravelly, rough voice that had petrified her. It didn’t seem to match the friendly look of his face.
Smiling at Rosie, she winked, “I was so scared as a matter of fact that I didn’t speak at all for a year, believe it or not. Not only didn’t I speak I hid away from them and their children as much as I could, doing everything in my power to make sure I behaved and did as I was told. For the first couple months anytime any of them, especially Dad, spoke to me I was so terrified that I shook and almost wet myself.”
Strange as that may sound with the close relationship she had with both her parents and her five brothers, especially the closeness she shared with her Dad, that statement was true; they petrified her. When she was around them she did her best to sit quietly and not even look at them. Anything she was told to do she did, quickly and just how they wanted it done, afraid what would happen if she didn’t. Their sons, only two were left living at home, Kenneth and Even, and were very close to her age, tried to involve her in things they did but she wouldn’t join in. Both her mom and dad tried to draw her out of her shell but nothing they did mattered. She was convinced that she would be going back to her real parents at any moment or that, not knowing any better, if she made these people angry that they would do to her what her parents did. Neither of those options looked good to her and weren’t anything she wanted so she tried her best to be the perfect child. It had been her reasoning that if she didn’t talk she wouldn’t make them angry at anything she said nor would anything about her parents slip out, something that could get back to them at some point, for which she would pay dearly when she was back with them. So, in her reasoning, if she didn’t speak those things wouldn’t happen.
“What finally happened to start ‘bringing you around’ as your mom called it?”
“It was a lot of things actually, not just one. By the time of the year anniversary of my arrival even I had figured out that if they were going to change it would have happened. They hadn’t, not a bit. They were still just as kind and nice as when I had met them. It was so strange to finally be among people that didn’t even raise their voice when you did something wrong, like all kids do. Looking back from an adult’s point of view they seem to be to be probably the most patient people with kids that I have ever met. Now I understand that it’s probably because my three oldest brothers, Andy, Rex and Bart, were such hellions that nothing would ruffle them much. They were perfect for someone like I was, scared and shy.”
That was, indeed, the truth but was the short version of it. There was more, much more, to it than that. She couldn’t even begin to estimate the hours her parents spent with her trying to draw her out of her shell and prove that they wouldn’t hurt her. Even then her first spoken words hadn’t been to them but to Oscar, her oldest brothers’ dog. Bart traveled a lot because of the ‘family business’ so Oscar, a massive, shaggy black Chow/Great Dane mix stayed with her parents. That dog was loving and playful. Even timid she was drawn to him.
She had been outside, throwing the Frisbee around with him until they were both sweaty and tired. Her mother would never had heard anything if she hadn’t been bringing both of them out something to drink. She sitting on the edge of the concrete patio with the dog sprawled out by her, head in her lap, petting him when she said, “You are the best Oscar.” Later on her mom said she had almost dropped the glass and bowl she was carrying when she heard those words but rather than make a big deal out of them she acted like nothing had happened. Years after the fact she learned that her case worker and parents had wondered whether her lack of speech was trauma induced or a physical problem. They were almost to the point that they were going to start having tests run to find out if it was a medical problem when she started talking. She didn’t start talking to humans right away; that step took a bit more time. But she had started talking to the dog, telling him everything that she couldn’t to people.
It was to her mom that she spoke first. In what was referred to as the family room, where there were video games, a pool table and other things, was a baby grand piano. At one point in time or another all the boys had taken lessons on it but none had liked it and it served more as a catch all to display pictures than it did as a musical instrument. For as long as she could remember she had been drawn to musical instruments. She didn’t have a preference, she liked them all. The noise that came out of them fascinated her and seemed to pull her to them. Although she didn’t have any lessons at all beyond what basic music classes in school taught she could sit at them or pick them up and within a day could be playing them in a way that sounded as though she had taken lessons. Like in the past that piano pulled her. After she first sat down at it and tentatively fingered the keys she was captivated. Dory, as her mom was called, had heard those first few notes on the instrument and made it clear that she could play it if she wanted. In the days that followed she would stand in the doorway and listen to the small, thin girl that was her foster child play beautifully things she had heard in the past. It was an almost perfect, concert-quality performance. She herself had taken piano lessons when she was young and after a week of listening, when she was sure the girl was playing by ear things she had heard and not from memory of lessons she began to sit with her and talk about music. If Antoinette, Toni as she was called by everyone, had heard the song before all Dory had to do was hum a few bars and she could play as much of it as she could remember or had heard almost flawlessly.
One day, as they were sitting on the piano bench, Toni played out a few bars of something Dory hadn’t heard. Gently rubbing her back, Dory had smiled at the little blonde child, “Is that something you heard or a song you made up?”
Without thinking, lost in the sounds she was hearing in her head, Toni said, “I made it up.”
As one would expect, a smile turned up the corners of Dory’s mouth but she didn’t make a big deal of it, continuing on. In a half an hour’s time Toni was talking like any other child not like someone who hadn’t spoken for a year. Later on her dad told her that her mom had met him when he came in from the office at the door with tears in her eyes, telling him that Toni had spoken. It took her a couple more weeks to talk to him and her brothers but it came eventually.
Once that speech barrier had been broken things progressed on better. She was more open with them and began to trust everyone in the house more.