A Child Called “It.”

Main Characters

Dave Pelzer a little boy who was mistreated.

Catherine Roerva mother’s Dave

Stephen Joseph father’s Dave

CHAPTER 1 THE RESCUE

 March 5, 1973, Daly city, California- I’m late. I’ve got to finish the dishes on time, otherwise no breakfast; and since I didn’t have dinner last night, I have to make sure I get something to eat. Mother’s running around yelling at my brothers. I can heard her stomping down the hallway towards the kitchen. I dip my hands back into the scalding rise water. It’s too late. She catches me with my hands out of the water.

 SMACK! Mother hits me in the face, and I topple to the floor. I know better than to stand there and take the hit. I learned the hard way that she takes that as an act of defiance, which means more hits, or worst of all, no food. I regain my posture and dodge her looks, as she screams into my ears.

 I act timid, nodding to her treats. “Please,” I stay to myself, “just let me eat. Hit me again, but I have to have food.” another blow pushes my head against the tile countertop. I let the tears of mock defeat stream down my face as she storms out of the kitchen, seemingly satisfied with herself. After I count her steps, making sure she’s gone, I breathe a sigh of relief. The act worked. Mother can beat me all she wants, but I haven’t let her take away my will to somehow survive.

 I finish the dishes, then my other chores. For my reward I receive breakfast- leftovers from one of my brother’s cereal bowls. Today it’s Lucky Charms. Because I’m so late with my chores, I have to be driven to school. Usually I run to school, arriving just a class begins, with no time to steal any food from other kids, lunches box.

Because I’m so late, I have to report to the administrative office. The gray-haired secretary greets me with a smile. Moments later, the school nurse comes out and leads me into her office,  where we go through the normal routine. First, she examines my face and arms. “What’s that above your eyes?” she asks.

I nod sheepishly, “Oh, I ran into the hall door…by accident,” Again she smiles.  

 The nurse tells me that I’ll be fine and ask me to take off my clothes. My longsleeve shirt is the same that I have worn about two years and my shoes and pants have holds such as Swiss cheese. The nurse records my various marks and bruises on the clipboard. She counts the slash-like marks on my face. She open my mouth to look at my teeth that are chipped. She then breaks the embrace and leaves the room. I rush to put my clothes back on. She doesn’t know it, but I do everything as fast as possible.

 The nurse returns a few minutes with Mr. Hansen the principal, and two of my teachers, Miss Woods and Mr. Ziegler. My teachers looks at the paper that the nurse had filled. The police officer explains why Mr. Hansen called him. The officer asks that I tell him about Mother. I tell them it was an accident and my mother punishes me because I’m bad. They seem happy, but at the same time worried. My teacher shakes my hand. “Be a good boy” he says.

 The police officer and I walk outside, past the cafeteria. I can see some of the kids from my class playing dodgeball. In a few minutes, we arrive at the Daly City Police Station. I sort of spect Mother to be here. It’s past 1:00 p.m. when the policeman finishes his paperwork. He ask for my telephone number again .

 “Why?” I whine.

 “I have to call her, David,” he says gently.

 “No!” I command. “Send me back to school.

Don’t you get it? She mustn’t find out I told!

 My mother answers. “Mrs. Pelzer, this is Officer Smith from the Daly City Police Department. Your son David will no be coming home today. He will be in the custody of the San Mateo Juvenile Department. If you have any question, you can call them. “He hang up the phone and smiles”. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he ask me. “ you don’t have nothing to worry about, honest. Your mother is never going to hurt you again”.

CHAPTER 2 GOOD TIMES

My family was the “Brady Bunch” of the 1960s. My brother and I were blessed with the perfect parents. Our every whim was fulfilled with love and care.

 My father, Stephen Joseph, working in the heart of San Francisco. My mother, Catherine Roerva, was a women of average size and appearance. She always had ideas, and she always took command all of family matters. Also she was an absolute clan fiend. She often told us that we must always do the best we could, in whatever we did. All of things she did for her family, I think creating new and exotic meals was her favorite. One day, she took us to Chinatown in San Francisco. As we drove around the area , Mom told us about the culture and history of the Chinese people. When we returned at home, Mom stared to decorate the dining room with Chinese lanterns.

 Back then our house was full of pets – cats, dogs, aquariums filled with exotic fish and a gopher tortoise named “Thor”. The five-and then-gallon aquarium seemed to be everywhere.

 The most dramatic of Mom’s lessons, came one Sunday afternoon . one of our cats was behaving in an odd way. Mom had us all sit down by the cat while she explained the process of birth.

 For our family- during those good years- the holidays started with Halloween. One October night. Mom hurried the tree of us out of our house, to gaze at the “Great Pumpkin”in the sky. When we returned to our bedroom, she told us to peek under our pillows where we found Matchbox race cars. My two brothers and I squealed with delight as Mom’s face was flushed with pride.

 The day after Thanksgiving, Mom would disappear to the basement then bring up enormous boxes filled with Christmas decoration. All our house was decorated and our Christmas tree was never even an inch under eight feet, and it took the whole family hours to decorate it. The pile of gifts at the base of the tree grew day by day. After special dinner, we were sent to bed. Mom would creep into our room and wake us, whispering, “Santa came”. That year, I remember seeing Mom cry. She told me that she was happy  to have a real family.

 Because Father’s job often required him to work 24-hour shifts, Mother often took us on a day trips to places like the nearby Golden Gate Park in San Francisco. Spring meants picnics. Mom would prepare a feast of fried chicken, salads, sandwiches and lost of desserts the night before. Early the next day, our family sped off to Junipero Serra Park.

 It was always a thrill when the family went on summer vacation. We went to my favorite place in the world- The Russian River. The most memorable trip to the river for me, happened the year I was in kindergarten. Each day was a new adventure

CHAPTER 3 BAD BOY

 My relationship with Mom drastically changed from discipline to punishment that grew out of control. It became so bad times. At the time father was away at work, she would spend the entire day lying on the couch. When she yelled at us, her voice nurturing mother to the wicked witch.

 When mother decided that the “corner treatment”was no longer effective, I graduated to the “mirror treatment”. In the beginning, it was a no-notice from or punishment. Mother would simply grab me and smash my face against the mirror, smearing my tear-streaked face on the slick, reflective glass. Then she would order me to say over and over again, “ I’m a bad boy! I’m a bad boy! I’m a bad boy!.

 While Father was at work, Mother would often yell and scream while forcing my brothers and me to search the entire house for something she had lost. Once I forgot what I was looking for. When I timidly asked her what it was that I was to find, Mother smacked me in the face. Blood gushed from my nose and I began to cry.

A month or two later, Mother rush down the hall, yelling at us, instantly we sat down in the chairs. She come at me, suddenly my head touched the wall. I try to protect my face with my hands, but my Mother would only knock them away. Her punches seemed to last forever. I hadn’t slept long when Mother awakened me. She seemed to be deeply concerned about my conditio, as she drove me to the hospital. When she told the doctor about my fall from the top bunk bed, I could tell by the look he gave me that he knew my injury was no accident.

 One day in late spring, when I returned home from school, Mother threw me into her bedroom. She then yelled at me, stating I was to be held back from the first grade because I was a bad boy.

 That summer, I was dropped off at my Aunt  Josie’s house on the way to the campsite. I try to run away and find my family. Later my a aunt informed at my mother of my attempt. Mother smacked, punched and kicked me until I crumpled to the floor.

 A few months later, Mother became a den mother for the Club Scouts. One wadnesday she snatches my arm and dragged me to the car. Once home, Mother ordered me to strip off my clothes and stand the kitchen stove. Mother claimed that she had seen me that very day playing on the grass, which was absolutely forbidden by her rules.

 “You’ve made my life a living hell!” she sneered. “Now it’s time I showed you what hell is like” Gripping my arm , Mother held it in the orange- blue flame. My skin seemed to explode from the heat. I could smell the scorched airs from my burnt arm. As hard as I fought, I could not force Mother to let go of my arm. Finally I fell to the floor, on my hands and knees, end try to blow cool air on my arm. Standing alone in the damp, dark garage, I knew, for the first time, that I could survive.

CHAPTER 4 THE FIGHT FOR FOOD

 The summer after the burn incident, school became my only hope of escape. By them, Mother would “forget” to feed me any dinner. Breakfast wasn’t much better. At night I lay awake concentrating on food. “ Maybe tomorrow I’ll get dinner”, I said to myself. I alway stole food before school began, while my classmates were playing outside the building. After a few weeks some students began to discover me. The teacher told my Mother. The fight for food become a cycle. The punishment or hunger and violent attacks continued.  When I returned to the house from school, I immediately accomplished the various chores Mother assigned me. When the chores were finished I went directly to the basement. I had become Mother’s slave.

 Sometimes I knew Father was trying to help me when he found an excuse to come down to the basement and sneak me a piece of bread. As the arguments between Mother and Father become more frequent, he began to change.

 I was in the second grade, Mother was pregnant with her four children. My teacher, Miss Moss, began to take a special interest in me about the conditions of my cloths and the bruises on my body. The principal called Mother. When I arrived at home, she was more violent. My nose bled twice and I was missing a tooth

The summer, the family vacationed at the Russian River. My siblings and I were playing at the neighbor’s cabin, Mother yelled for us to come immediately. Once in the cabin, i was scolded for making to much noise. For my punishment, I was not allowed to go with Father and my brothers to the super slide. As soon as they  left, she brought out of Russell’s soiled diapers. She smeared the diaper on my face. After an hour, mother knelt down beside me in a soft voice said “ Eat it”, I began to cry. The smell turned my stomach; she slammed my face into the diaper and rubbed in side to side. Suddenly Mother let go “They’re back! They’re back! She gasped. Mother snatched a washcloth from the sink and threw it at me. The family never returned to the Russian River again.

 In september, I returned to school with last year’s clothes and my old, rusted, green lunch pail. At the house, while standing for hours in the garage, I passed the time by imagining new ways to feed myself. After dinner, it was Mother’s habit to scrape the leftovers from the dinner plates into a small garbage can. I finished my chores as fast as I could and emptied the garbage can, and I gingerly picked the good piece. Mother sensed I was getting food some ways, so she began sprinkling ammonia in the trash can. My next idea was to rip off frozen lunches from the school cafeteria. I swallowed the frozen hot dogs. As I ran to the house from school that afternoon. She dragged me into the bathroom and slugged me in the stomach so hard that I bent over. Pulling me around to face the toilet, she ordered me to shove mi finger down my throat. Mother rammed her finger into my mouth, and I squirmed in every direction in an effort to fight her. Moments later she returned with a small bowl, ordered me to scoop the partially-digested food out of the toilet and put in the bowl. At short time, Mother and Father stormed into the kitchen “Look at this Steven”  “ So, you think The Boy is through stealing food, do you”. “What The Boy has done now?” Fathers say. “ Well Roerva, if you would just let The Boy have something to eat”. “Eat? You want The Boy to eat, Stephen? 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 stomping off to the bedroom. Mother told me that I was no longer privileged enough to sleep upstairs, so i was banished downstairs to the garage.

CHAPTER 5 THE ACCIDENT   

 I had not yet reached my 11th birthday, but for the most part, I knew what forms of punishment to expect.i had began clearing the dishes from the dining room into the kitchen. “You have 20 minutes! Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am”.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you”. As I looked at her, Mother snatches a carving knife from the counter to and screamed, “If you don’t finish on time, I’m going to kill you”. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a blurred object fly from her hand. I felt a warm sensation flowing from my chest, and I moved my eyes towards my stomach. On her knees, Mothers was hastily applying a thick wad of gauze to a place on my stomach where dark red blood pumped out.  I knew it was an accident.

Mother stood up, washed her her hands and told me I now 30 minutes to fish the dishes. After three days after the “ accident” the slit in my stomach had opened more than once since that night. I saw a yellowish-white substance begin to ooze from the red, angry slash. I felt confident that i could do it alone.

CHAPTER 6  WHILE FATHER IS AWAY

Father spend less time at home and more at work. He made excuses to the family, but I didn’t believe him. “Don’t worry,” he’d say. “Someday you and I will both get out of his madhouse”. After awhile, Father didn’t  even stay home on his day off. Mother had another favorite game for me while Father was away. She sent me to clean the bathroom, but this time, she put a bucket, filled with a mixture of ammonia and clorox, in the room with me and closed the door. After a few minutes, Mother opened the door. I felt as if I were looked in a gas chamber.  

At the end of the summer, Mother sent me out to mow lawns. Going from door to door, I asked people if they cared to have their lawns mowed. One lady gave me a lunch in o brown bag. Mother saw the bag, she was convinced that i had sneaked into the lady’s house and prepared my own lunch. Once home, mother ordered me to sit was covered with rocks about inch in diameter. I lost circulations in much of my body,as I sat on my hands in my “prisoner of war” position. She yelled me. She let me to the bathroom. She turned the cold water tap in the bathtub fully open. She ordered me to get into the tub. Mother yelled. “Put your face into the water like this”. She then bent over, grabbed my neck with both hands and shoved my head under the water. She looked down on me, trying to get her breath. “Now keep your head below the water, or next time it will be longer”.

One saturday she told me that she was tired of the life we were living, and I began to cry. “You will try to be a good boy, and I will try to be a good mother”. I had received a new clothes on Christmas, I could play outside with the others boys, I could for first time with my family at the dinner table. The next day, a lady from  social services come to our house in the afternoon. They talked for more than an hour. Then the lady ask me if my mother ever beat me.

“No, it’s not like that at all” I said “ Mom treats me pretty good”

When the lady was clearly gone. Mother closed the door in a range. She hit me several times.             

CHAPTER 7 THE LORD’S PRAYER

About a month before I entered the fifth grade, I came to believe that for me, there was no God. I held in my tears, refused to cry because I didn’t  want to give her the satisfaction of my defeat, but before she died, I wanted her to feel the magnitude of my pain and my loneliness for all these years. That  night before getting into bed, I got down on my knees and prayer to God. I asked Him to make Mother sick so she couldn’t hit me any more. The next morning much to my surprise, Mother was sick. At the years passed and the beatings become more intense, I thought about Mother’s age  and tried to calculate when she might died. In the summer my brothers took turns hitting me, they approached me, my heart become hard a stone, and I’m sure they saw the hate etched in my face. A few weeks before I started the fifth grad, I hated myself so much that I wished I were dead. Mr. Ziegler, my homeroom teacher treat me as if I were a normal kid. One of his job as sponsor of the school newspaper was to form a committee of kids to find a name for the paper. My title won , Mr. Ziegler was proud of me. At the end of the day. Mr Ziegler gave me a letter to take to Mother. I run to Mother’s house. “Well, Mr. Ziegler says I should be so proud of you for naming the school newspaper.

“There is nothing you can do to impress me!  You are a nobody! An it! You are a bastard child! I hate you and I wish you were dead!.

 As my attitude began to change, I became more and more rebellious. A crisis erupted one day at the grocery store, when we returned at home, Mother made a special batch of ammonia and clorox. As soon as she slammed the bathroom door. I hurried to the heating vent. It didn’t come on. No fresh air and my eyes filled with tears. When mother finally open the door I boltered for the hallway, but her hand seized me by the neck. A few days later, Mothern packed Father’s clothes in box, and drove with my brothers and me to a place a few blocks from the fire station. There , Father was waited. While Mother and the boys went into  Father’s motel room, I sat in the car cursing his name over and over. When we reached the city limits Mother and the boys approaching the car.

“ You are all mine now. Too bad your Father’s not here to protect you”. I clasped my hands together, bent my head down, closed my eyes and prayed with all my heart. When the station wagons turned onto the driveway, I felt that my time had come. Before I opened the car door, I bowed my head and with peace in my hear, I whispered , “…. and deliver me from evil”.

“Amen”.  

Glossary

Sheepishly    adv. in an embarrassed manner due to shame or a lack of self confident  .

Scapegoat     n. a person who is blamed for the wrongdoing, mistake, or faults of others, especially for                              reason of expedience.

Starved         v. (of person or animal) suffer severally or die for hunger.

Feverish        adj. having or showing the symptoms of a fever.

Gingerly        adv. in a careful or cautious manner.

Hissed           v. (of a person) make a sibilant sound as a sign of disapproval or derision.

Summon        v. authoritatively or urgently call on (someone) to be present, specially as a defendant or                               witness in a law court.

Plop               v. fall or cause to fall with a plop.

Blitzed            adj. intoxicated by drink or drugs.

Quotations & Explanation

1. “You have made my life a living hell” (41).  – I believe is important and strong because, as a mother, I feel that a child does not come to life to ruin a parent’s life, especially a mother. In fact, I think that a child is a blessing and brings joy to a wherever he comes. I believe that the mother’s rage does not let her think the bad she is doing to the child and the effect such strong words can have later on, on the child’s life.

2. “. . . and deliver me from evil” (153).  – I believe this is the most important quote of all because these words were spoken by the Dave towards the end; where the author do not gives a direct ending, but it leaves the ending to the reader’s imagination. the words denote the desperation developed by his constant abuse leading to suicidal thoughts. In this quote, he describes his life as a hell where he ask God to deliver him where he thinks he belongs, a happy place.

Recommendation

I strongly recommend this book because it depicts the depression and impotence from a young child being mistreated. The confusion developed from the state of mind his mother inputs as she suddenly changes her attitude creates a sense of reflection for future or, even present, parents as they might relate their not that extreme situation to the situation in the story. Although it is very sad, I think it is really helpful in the way that it helps to create awareness about the righteous treatment and the rear of children.