*Stop Crying
By jr Salmo
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*Stop Crying - jr Salmo
STOP CRYING
A TRUE STORY
STOP CRYING
A novel by
KOOPER SALMO
A true story told from a first point of view.
Lulu books
This book can be purchased exclusively at
Lulu.com
Copyright @ 2007 by Kooper Salmo
Ninety-five previous Cavicorn printings
Library Congress Catalogue
ISBN 8-399-34584-9
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
A true story about a troubled boy growing up with an extremely distressed family and an untamed mother who suppressed and self medicated her mental illness by inflicting pain on her children!
Chapter 1
I wish they would turn the heat on in this filthy jail, it’s like an ice chest in my room, and this nasty wool tablecloth for a blanket wouldn’t keep a squirrel warm. My roommate Mr. Bradley tells me not to sleep against the cold wall; he says the concrete bricks are what make my arm throb with pain throughout the day. He’s much older than me; Mr. Bradley preaches for hours. Maybe that’s a good thing; he keeps me from having a mental breakdown. Mr. Bradley’s always lecturing me about how I need to be a better person and find God, and no matter how hard or unfair I think my life is. I make the choices that write the story of my future. He wants to know how we ended up in the same room together.
I’ll start my story as far back as I can remember. I come from a family of seven; mom, dad, four boys and one girl, I’m the second to the youngest. My parent’s marriage was arranged by close family acquaintances, they only knew each other for about a month before their wedding day.
I just learned how to walk a couple of years ago. The year is 1983; my family lived in a small three bedroom home in Oak Park, MI, We were all sitting on the carpet, around my little brother Frank who just recently began teething. It was early in the morning, the sun was shinning through a small window over the kitchen table, and everyone had a smile on their face, and a glass of grape Kool-Aid with extra sugar to jumpstart our hyperactive body’s, I drank my juice out of a small blue sipping cup with a built in straw. Mom made up a new game for us to play. We all took turns trying to put our fingers in Frank’s mouth, and pulling it out, fast enough not allowing him to catch our fingers with his teeth. My sister Julie sat next to me, she’s the oldest. She put her thumb in his mouth, maybe thinking it wouldn’t hurt because the thumb is thicker than the finger, that’s a special moment, because it was a rare occasion to even get a glimpse of her. I’ll get to that later. Back to the finger game, it was really exciting. I saw my sister’s thumb getting crunched by Frank’s teeth, and she started screaming for him to let go, as he did, but he took his time making sure he made it hurt enough. It was my turn, I figured I would pull away so fast, he couldn’t catch it. I was mistaken, he had me on the first try, and it hurt so much, I begged for mercy, paralyzed, yelling ok stop, stop!,
again, he made sure my eyes spilled a few tears before he released his bear trap like clamping jaws. When he finally let go of my finger, it looked bent, crunched and it wouldn’t move, and my whole hand was throbbing for about ten seconds or more. Luckily there wasn’t any blood or torn skin. It was more like slamming your finger in a car door feeling. I was so happy when it worked again, when I stood up I felt a warm wet feeling seeping down my leg, I was so terrified that I had wet myself. Mom gave me a whack across my head for the mess I made. Frank laughed and giggled at me, along with everyone else, the more hurt I looked, the happier he was. I would say that was the first sign of evil in him, and there was much more in this family. That was the last time we ever played that game.
Chapter 2
Age 5
It’s a good thing George told me that I’m five years old now. While normal kids my age wait all year for their birthdays to come around, mine nearly passed me bye. We didn’t celebrate holidays that would cause my parents to spend money. I never received presents, a cake or a celebration, and when Christmas came around, we had a small three foot plastic tree but Santa never stopped by this house, mom said its because we don’t have a chimney, I wish we could just leave the door unlocked or something. I knew we were on welfare and received food stamps, and both my parents didn’t work, but if mom wanted to, she could have baked a cake or something, just to let me know it was my special day.
Now it was time for me to start going to school, I didn’t speak any English, I was born in America, and both my parents came to this country at about the age of twenty, but they didn’t teach me how to speak the language, maybe it’s because they didn’t know how to speak English themselves. It’s my first day at school, my dads name is George; he took me to my kindergarten class. I wouldn’t go inside without him. He’s a great dad and probably the only one in my family who cares about me. I didn’t have to be a rocket scientist at the age of five to know my mom didn’t love me, not that my dad ever said it, but I knew he did.
He walked me in the class room, it was full of kids and a few parents, they were all sitting around in a big circle, and all the kids were screaming and laughing, the same way they would act on the playground. I just stood and held Georges hand with one arm, and the other wrapped around his knee. I wasn’t going to let him leave me with all these strangers. I didn’t know if George would come back or not. He said he would leave me here, and be back in a few hours, but what if he didn’t, should I trust him, I didn’t like the idea. He finally got me to sit down but I kept one eye looking at him, with the other on the teacher.
A couple of hours had past; George was the only parent in the room. He tried to slip away to the door several times, but I cried and ran towards him at full speed, locking both arms around his leg with a death grip, the best one a little kid can give. He never made it past the doorway. It took three full days before I finally allowed him to leave, it wasn’t easy but I did it.
Chapter 3
Age 6
Schools out and its summer time, that year wasn’t so bad; I can’t wait for the next school year. George is taking us to the city park, I love playing on the big metal train, there’s a big bell in the caboose, and John always rings the bell, he’s the oldest of us boys, he said when we hear it, we have to report to the train’s engine room. Dad pushes us on the swings for hours, Kayser goes the highest, and I get so scared, he pull’s leaves off of the branches when he gets really high. John always jumps the farthest while swinging, George gets mad when we try to leap off the swing, and he thinks we’ll break our legs or necks.
John brought his kite with him, he connected four spools of string together, we can hardly see the kite; it’s so far away, it looks a grain of sand flying in the sky. Kayser told Frank and I to follow him up the hill, it’s very high, and we can overlook the whole park from the top. Once we reached the top, Kayser was lying on his side, and rolled down the steep hill out of control, Frank and I also imitated Kayser’s idea, and when we got to the bottom, it took a few minutes before the earth would stop spinning in circles, when it was all over, we climbed back up the hill and did it again. After the park George took us to dairy treat, I always get vanilla ice cream with extra sprinkles. Were exhausted from playing, as soon as we arrived home, we all rushed to our beds. Moms in the living room arguing with George, telling him never to take us to the park ever again, she says were all dirty, and she has to wash all our bed sheets. I hope he doesn’t listen to her; it’s my favorite place in the world.
It’s a new day, my three brothers and I share a room,