This web site contains stories of physical, mental, emotional, and sexual child abuse.

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"I think we should tell Old Topper, the policeman, when he comes walking down the sideway every day," said Tommy.

"You know, ain't nobody gonna believe us no way," said Eddie.

Many a time, we boys sat hiding in the bamboos. Many a time, we discussed trying to tell someone about the house parents at the orphanage, who were molesting some of us boys, almost on a nightly basis.

"I told Judge Gooding about it the last time they took me to Juvenile Hall, but he told me I was a liar," I told Emmett.

"Nobody’s gonna believe that Pop Henderson, being a grown-up, is doing bad things to us. Nobody. Not even Mrs. Henderson," I added.

As I now look back on the days when I lived in the Children's Home Society Orphanage in Jacksonville, Florida, I don't even know why we kids even wasted our breath about such things. Many a time, we told or tried to tell the teachers at Spring Park Elementary School about what was happening to us.

Many a time, we told the police when they were summoned to arrest us for running away. Nothing that we could say (or do) could stop the terrible things that were being done to us. Now that I am older, I can write and expose these terrible things.

I will never forget that feeling of total helplessness. I will never forget the feeling of not being believed. I will never forget that smirk on Mrs. Winters’ face each time we were returned to the orphanage for it all to continue night after night.

There comes a time in every child's life when he or she reaches the conclusion that only adults will be believed. The child then lets go of that inner protective device and just floats along, day after day with whatever life's program brings his or her way.

When the day comes that they are on their own and freedom stares them in the face, they travel through life, year after year always wondering why love and sex do not intertwine. That empty space is always there as they sit on the side of the bed and smoke a cigarette all by themselves. That, my friend, is the heartache and reality of sexual child abuse.

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