Little Tim, Big Tim (6 page)

Little Tim creates me to help him grow up. I am given all the secrets and information that Little Tim holds. He also shares his memories. Now that I can remember all the details of our life that Little Tim has experienced he can stay safely in the space of many colours.

The memories take me to doorways that hold pain, shame, guilt, fear and anxiety behind them. I am glad that I don’t know what is kept there. I know there are others like me, but I only sense them. Their job is to protect me and help me to function at difficult times.

We have packed up and left the Bible College behind. There was definitely an unresolved issue between the Old Man and the Bible College. We drive straight to the Blue Mountains to a house Mum and The Old Man have purchased. The house is five hundred metres away from Echo Point, where the famous Three Sisters (rock formation) can be observed.

I am in heaven. The Old Man is working as a cleaner at the hospital and Mum returns to her profession as a nursing-sister at the same hospital. With both of them working, it means that there is plenty of time and space for me to run around in nature without anybody knowing my whereabouts.

We have changed religions. Now we attend the Happy Clappers Club, well, that’s what I call it—the Assemblies of God church. It’s another Bible College that the Old Man attends; this time he is completing an external course. The best thing about the Happy Clappers Club is that there are a lot of kids my age who attend regularly—although reluctantly.

We become very close to each other throughout the school holidays, as all activities are done as a group. I feel safe and secure with my new friends and know my place in the pecking order; I am second in charge. My best friend is in charge.

Jim, our leader, is a tall lad at thirteen, one year older than me; however, Jim always treats me as an equal. He has been in Australia for about a year before we meet. He is from ‘The United States of America.’ This is always the way he tells people; not the USA, or not the USA and a city or town, just ‘The United States of America.’

We live about three hundred metres away from each other and I am always at his place. One day he asks me why I don’t invite him to my place. I don’t answer him; I just leave and go home. I can’t answer him for as soon as I feel shame, Shane surfaces and is totally confused as to where he is and who he is with.

A month goes by and Jim finally contacts me. Every time I had gone to call him, I felt ashamed of what we had done and felt guilty about ignoring my friend. So each time I picked up the phone to call, I would pass Shane and Gary heading for
Light
as I was flung into the
Dark.
Shane and Gary would be in the
Light,
totally confused and not having the capacity, or memory, to dial our best friend’s number.

Jim informs me that he misses me and wants me to come over to his place for lunch, and then play in the afternoon. I accept his invitation and feel the blanket of loneliness starting to lift.

I hadn’t wasted the last four weeks; I had been exploring the surrounding bush by myself. I had numerous spots I was eager to show Jim after lunch. My most exciting discovery was a cave which I found by traversing a cliff face after leaving the main track and climbing for twenty metres down an incline. The cave was well hidden and I only stumbled upon it out of sheer luck. I was kicking a rock along a bush track, went for the big drive—the rock impacted on the outside of my shoe and curved about twenty metres in front of me and landed near the edge of the cliff. As I neared the cliff I noticed a piece of metal shining in the cliff face.

I lowered myself over the edge, found a rock to act as a footing and then the edge jutted to allow me to walk comfortably into a cave entrance.

Another opening to the cave stares directly at the lush forests down in the valley. The view is spectacular and I spent most of the last month hanging out there, or near by. Today I would be sharing my secret with my best friend.

Next week we will be starting a new school. First form is our designated grade and primary school is to be left behind. I am on a high from the holidays, showing my secrets to Jim and watching his face light up with astonishment at the cool places I’ve found. They are our secret.

The high is short lived as the Old Man loses his job. The next day the Old Man asks,

‘Wouldn’t it be cool to go for a train ride?’

I agree and we arrive in a park two hours later. I’m standing outside the toilets at Central Park, Sydney; the Old Man is still talking to some men when I need to relieve myself. I finish, flush and then turn, and find myself looking into a man’s chest. It is the same man that the Old Man has been talking to at the table outside.

The man hurts me as my face slams into a swinging door and he has total control of my arms. Knowledge comes flooding into me; I feel dumb, I should’ve known what the Old Man has been up to. Peter is rapidly propelled into existence and I’m forced into the
Dark.
Shane and Gary are headed to the surface also.

Peter suffers the rape, Shane carries the shame of being there and Gary the guilt holder is asking the question, ‘
why can’t we stop these attacks happening to usT

Peter is finally ready to move back to the
Dark
space where he prefers to be all the time. Shane and Gary take the emotive issues with them as I pass them back to the reality that I must exist in. They look forlorn; however, I feel relieved that they have done their job.

The next time I will do better and get away, I promise myself. There
is
a next time—in the same park. The Old Man is completely confident that I will behave and go through the ritual abuse I have involuntarily suffered again. I am told to wait by the table and chairs as he speaks to a man.

Something inside me screams,
‘Run. Run
.’ My legs twitch as my upper body remains solid. Why do I want to run? My legs twitch harder. I am vibrating on the bottom part of my body, but my upper body seems to be disassociated from the will and thrill of wanting to move.

I move to the back of the table to avoid anyone seeing my body’s malfunction.
‘Run—Run—Run
,’ the voices inside scream. With my legs backing away from the table, I look up to see The Old Man and the other man approaching me. My upper body finally agrees with my legs, and we bolt! We are moving so fast that I feel wind passing my ears.

We are running aimlessly and we don’t know which direction to take. We run with The Old Man and the other man in hot pursuit. The park starts to incline and I hear traffic to my right. I glance behind; the Old Man has given up but the other man looks extremely determined to secure me.

I am running short of breath and slowing down. I notice that there is a chain-wire mesh fence that will need to be scaled to obtain safety. Our pursuer is about twenty metres away as I spot a hole in the fence near to the ground.

The urgency in the escape starts to be realised as an overpowering force flings me head first through the hole. As I stop tumbling, the man chasing us stares at us from the other side of the fence with an evil glint in his eyes. I now know what the unknown force was that assisted me; intuition is the force that saves me from dealing with the evil in those eyes. We bolt to the train station leaving the Old Man and the other man in the park. Fear sets in. What will the Old Man do when we get home?

I am home a good two hours before the Old Man. I hear him come in and start arguing with Mum. The content is inaudible; however, I sense that it’s about me as I shake under the bedclothes.

The incident is never raised again. We fought back and won this battle—but not the war.

The war continues on three fronts: the church youth leader, the Cadet Officer at school and Mum at home.

It has been some time since our body has been violated. I have completed first form with flying colours and I am looking forward to the Christmas break. I’m to attend a camp for the youth group. I’m excited, and that’s an understatement. Jim and I are selected to complete the challenge to earn the coveted senior award known as The Camp Fraternity Badge. This is a big deal; we will be the only ones from our group competing.

The challenge involves camp-craft, canoeing, bush walking, rope work, first aid and rescue and finally the cross-country run. Jim and I are equally tied for first place on the second last day.

That night I’m awoken to hear Jim’s muffled voice pleading.

‘
Don’t do it, please don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it.’

The pleas fall on deaf ears. I want to hurt the person that is forcing himself on Jim but I can’t. I am frozen stiff. Every
‘don’t-do-it’
plea that Jim emits cuts like a knife into my chest. Reinforcing the pinned down feeling I am dealing with, the naked body belonging to our youth leader presses against me and my last thought is that I have let down my friend.

Disassociation follows. Peter takes the pain and Shane and Gary have additional roles this time. Not only do they carry the shame of the attack and the guilt of not stopping it, but they also feel the shame and guilt of not stopping the attack on Jim.

Jim and I never mention the attack to each other; but there is no doubt that we both know that we each suffered rape.

Next day all the students are lined up for the final event, the long distance cross-country race. We have trained pretty hard for this event; so much so that we are also both selected to represent our high school for the state cross-country team for our age group. Our youth leader is so cocky; he keeps telling everybody how we are destined to win.

The starting gun fires, the other competitor’s race off and the sound of their feet hitting the ground soon fades. Without any verbal communication, Jim and I look at each other and start to walk. There seems to be some kind of intuitive link that is accessed by those who have suffered with you. This is our silent protest. The youth leader rants at us to start running. His unchristian action brings attention to bear on himself. The other youth leaders are amazed at our defiance, and questioning looks are cast upon him. I have decided long ago that I can’t trust adults when it comes to telling them that abuse is near by. Is it because of denial or shock that good Christians can allow others to behave with such impunity? It doesn’t matter either way; no one ever takes action against them.

Jim is too ashamed to expose that he has been forced to fornicate with another man. It is possibly his first experience. I’m sure his guilt is intense as he questions why he didn’t stop such violation.

We stroll the whole distance of the racecourse. I start to speak but soon realise that conversation is not appropriate. Throughout the journey Jim’s cheeks are flushed red and tears dribble down them. As they leave his chin new footsteps collect old teardrops.

We finish the distance to be told that transport will pick us up after the badge ceremony. We have achieved enough points to be awarded badges. Then we are told our youth leader had to leave due to a family emergency. That’s how Christians cover their arses—they have family emergencies. Fellow Christians are too polite to inquire about details.

The new youth leader, who is now our chaperone, asks why we walked.

‘Did something happen between you boys and your youth leaderT

Jim stares me in the face; I do not move a muscle. He instinctively knows that to say anything will be a disaster. We keep our secret to ourselves.

Our secret is a bond that also sees us drift away from each other. I totally understand this; I have lived it many times before.

Jim needs isolation, and I feel abandoned. Jim decides to never talk about the incident and to not speak to me again; this is how he will make it all go away.

We sometimes pass each other in the school corridors. At first I am totally ignored, but after a while I catch the occasional brief smile. The incident has proved to Jim that it isn’t safe to be around me. I have lost my best friend forever, due to the depravity I seem to attract.

My brother James and I are caught again. We still have to attend the youth group. The youth leader hasn’t been replaced and I feel sick in his presence. I know he has raped me, however, I also know I can’t tell anyone what he has done.

He asks James and I to carry some equipment over to the main college building. I take longer to carry my armful of equipment and James arrives before I do.

The main foyer is deserted. I drop the equipment where the other equipment is lying inside the doorway. Intuitively I know the leader’s room number. I am deeply concerned about my brother and I start calling his name. The youth leader pokes his head out of his door and says,

‘Come here, he’s in here with me
’.

I pull on his door; it opens with a creak signifying the era and sturdiness of the door. It opens slowly, but not slowly enough; it finally exposes my brother, naked on the bed. My blood stops cold as I freeze at the helplessness of the situation. Guilt hits me first, as I do nothing to stop the attack on my brother. I can’t face this reality and repulsed, I move into the
Dark.

As Peter I move into the
Light
to receive the usual sensation of pain. It has been some time since I felt our bottom ache. Our brother is there also, crumpled on the comer of the bed against the wall, sucking his thumb.

The attack is finished; the violator has left the room. James and I cuddle each other until the pain has subsided and our whimpering fades.

Peter returns to the
Dark
and I as Little Big Tim sense that Shane and Gary are momentarily in my reality. I move to get dressed. James is also getting dressed. As I leave the old door to creak behind me, I look at James and say to him,

‘Leave what happened in there to always stay in there.
’

He looks at me and I see myself: he is eleven years old and when attacked resorts to sucking his thumb, also like me, he hands over all will to whoever wants to take control.

This has to stop.

James asks me to never tell anybody he was crying and sucking his thumb; he is more worried about this behaviour than the depraved situation that he was forced to endure. I immediately reassure him that no one will know of this behaviour or the attack. I also assure him that I am going to refuse to go to the youth group, ever again.

He pleads with me to tell Mum and the Old Man that he wants to quit too. Because we are getting old enough to talk to other people and maybe, just maybe, someone might believe us, I feel confident that they will let us quit without investigating why.

We walk down the steep street and at the bottom of the street we cross through a park. The toilet block sends shivers through me and I know I have had experiences buried deep within me, in this toilet plus many other toilets in the Blue Mountains area. James notices the distress I’m feeling and says,

‘Has the Old Man brought you to the toilets too, Tim
?’

‘Yeah, but I am going to stop all that from this point on.
’ James looks at me and says,

‘How? I want it to stop too.
’

‘I
don’t know. It’s just going to stop.
’

I am underdeveloped for my age and light as a feather, but I am determined to not allow any man, including my father, to violate me again. I feel my defences are ready for future male attacks. Unfortunately there is still another form of abuse that I am totally unprepared for and am completely unaware of the impact it will have on us.

The new form of abuse comes from our Mum. It isn’t physical or emotional abuse, which is old-hat. No, it’s sexual abuse. The Old Man has started working nights and Mum asks me to sleep in her bed.

Mum rarely shows much affection towards me, so to be offered the opportunity to be close to her, I jump at the chance, only to be betrayed by my naivete.

Lying next to her, I hear her ask,

‘Do you love your Mum?’

‘Of course I do.
’

At this reply she lifts my head and places it on her ample breast. I try to pull away only to have her hold me there firmly. I fear that the Old Man might see me being weird with Mum. I feel shame and sense Shane is with me as Mum uses her hand to get my penis into an erect state. Once this has been achieved, she lies on top of me and wiggles a bit and I feel my penis get wet as my virginity is lost to my mother.

A repulsive situation; I have to endure a heavy, obese lady pleasuring herself by grinding away on top of me. I ejaculate and I’m cursed for making her sticky and wet. The whole experience lasts two minutes.

I am ordered to go and have a shower and to not mention the special time I had with Mum. This is the first time I have been violated in a heterosexual fashion. The shame allows Shane to experience the episode with me.

During the past attacks from men, I had the freedom to escape and slip into the
Dark.
But the subtlety of the invasion from Mum is not physically painful, so there is no need for Peter to surface. However, the emotional pain of Mum crossing the threshold, sacred between mother and son, is unbearable.

I feel dirty and whilst taking a shower I scrub myself until my skin is inflamed. The nausea is released; I vomit down my chest then repeat the severe scrubbing I torture myself with.

The ritual continues with Mum whenever the Old Man is working and she desires my company. The abuse lasts longer each time. I’m forced to perform acts for her sexual gratification only to be abused and shamed for making her wet and sticky.

The longer it lasts, the more I assault my unclean skin with the scrubbing brush. In the shower, going through my cleansing ritual, I vow that this is going to stop.

Before this began I would expend maximum energy fearing what the Old Man and his contacts would do to me. Now I also fear him finding out that Mum is getting pleasure from me. I even hold a perverse thought that Mum might tell him and get me flogged for being in her bed at the age of fourteen.

When will this nightmare end?

I know it has to end soon, I just don’t know how. Maybe I end it for us? This is my first suicidal thought. I wonder why it hasn’t clicked before, that the only way was for me to end it. I feel excited and relieved that I have found the only course of action left open to me in order to escape the nightmare of torment and terror. End it—that’s what I’ll do. A spring in my step appears; I will carry on as normal and tomorrow night my choice of suicide is going to be hanging.

The beam above my bed is going to be my hanging point. After school I will write my suicide note and post it to Jimmy— even though Jimmy and I haven’t spoken since the so-called Christian camp. My suicide note will explain why I did it. I’m sure that it will be passed onto the authorities as I am also relying on Jimmy’s parents reading it. My death will surely spark an interest in the contents of a letter sent the day I decided to take my life.

This event will hopefully bring our parents to the realisation that their actions are wrong and that they are accountable. I feel that James’ safety will be assured, and other family members will be saved from the torture and torment. Yes! This is the only solution left. Stick to the normal routine and then soon it will all be over.