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For three years now, I have been writing about the abuse that we children suffered at the hands of the Children's Home Society in Jacksonville, Florida. It has taken me until today to actually get up enough nerve to tell the following story.

I am going to try to tell this story in such a way that it will not appear crude. I feel it is important that adults know what actually goes through a child's mind when such terrible things occur.

"Roger Dean Kiser, report to the nursery. Now!" yelled the matron of our dormitory.

I ran as fast as I could across the grass circle, which was located in the center of the orphanage grounds. I was running so fast and hard that I tripped over one of the sprinklers and cut my right knee in two places.


"I hurt my leg on the sprinkler," I yelled back.

"I don't care if it went up your little ass. Get up and get over there right now!" she yelled again.

With my hand, I wiped the blood off my leg and wiped it across the front of my short pants. I picked myself up and started running toward the nursery building. As I approached the front door, a lady whom I had never seen before met me.

"Roger?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am," I replied.

She opened the door and motioned for me to come inside. Then she led me down the hall and into a room located on the left side of the hallway. When I entered the room, I was surprised to see one of the girls from the girls’ dormitory.

Jane (not her real name) and I were both, about 8 or 9 years old. I knew very little about her, because we boys were never allowed to talk with the girls.

"Okay, I want both of you to take your clothes off," said the woman.

Jane and I just looked at one another. Neither one of us moved a muscle.

"Did you two hear me speak to you?" asked the dark haired woman as she closed the door.

Slowly, she walked up to the front of the room and just stood there with her arms up on her hips.

"I told both of you to take you clothes off," she said again.

"But she's a girl and I'm a boy," I said.

I could hardly believe what I was being asked to do.

"DO IT NOW!" ordered the woman.

Slowly, Jane began to remove her shoes and socks.

I looked over at Jane's face and her mouth was quivering all over like she was going to cry.

"We ain't suppose to do this kind of stuff,” I said. “It's wrong. The Bible says it's wrong."

"You are supposed to do whatever I tell you to do. Do you understand that young man?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am," I replied.

I too began to remove my shoes.

"Lets speed it up kids," said the woman.

By the time I had taken off my shoes and socks, Jane was standing next to me with nothing on except for her underwear bottoms. She stood there with her arms folded across her chest. Her hands were holding onto her shoulders to hide whatever breasts she might have had.

I was so scared that I was shaking. I did not want to take my clothes off in front of a girl. Jane just stood there with her eyes closed - her body shaking all over as if she were cold.

"Why do you make me do this? I asked the woman.

"I'm teaching you a lesson about sex. Do you know what sex is?" asked the woman.

"It's a bad thing to do," I replied.

"It is not a bad thing, if it's a lesson," she responded.

"But I don't want no girl to see me without no clothes on," I said.

"Just get yourself undressed," she ordered.

I did as best I could to try not cry in front of Jane, but soon I felt my eyes filling with tears. Then like a storm, the tears came full force. Slowly, I lied down on the floor, folded up into a tight ball and refused to move.

"You both had best get your underwear off and sit back down in your chairs. Do you understand me?" she stated.

"You can't make me do it, if I don't want to," I said continuing to cry.

The next thing I knew, Jane too was lying on the floor next to me. We were both crying. Then Mrs. Winters, the head matron, entered the room. She and the dark haired woman grabbed hold of me and tried to roll me over on top of Jane.

Finally, they forced us atop one another. Mrs. Winters was at our heads and the other woman was at our feet. They pressed our bodies together as tightly as they would go. Then Mrs. Winters grabbed me by the buttocks and with her hands, she forced me over and over, up and down on top of Jane. Jane was screaming, and I was kicking and screaming as loud as I could.


I remember looking at Mrs. Winters' face and seeing that her eyes were rolled back into her head. Her eyes were completely white and her face was a solid red.

I do not remember much after that.

In 1991, Jane and I met each other for the first time in 42 years. During that period of time, I had been married five times and she was on her eighth marriage. Nothing whatsoever was said about ‘the incident,’ but when we hugged one another, we could tell that sex was still a bad thing for both of us. We could see it as clear as a bell in each other’s eyes.

When we parted later that evening, we hugged one another and cried for almost 15 minutes.

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