Yesterday I wrote [Part 1 - Please read this first!] of this story but got physically sick trying to write so I had to stop. This is [Part 2] and hopefully I can get through this without getting sick again. But I must issue this warning:

IF YOU ARE PRONE TO VIOLENT OR EMOTIONAL OUTBURSTS DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

(The only pic I have of me as a child! I think this was around 4-5 years old.

 My earliest memories (continued):

(My Mother)

I don't remember much after that beating for about a year. Somehow my dad had gotten remarried and moved to Dauphin Island, AL with his new wife. He ran the Marina on the Island (where all the fishing boats docked at the time) and his wife (Linda) ran the C-Store @ the Marina. Anyway, he tracked down my mother and moved us to Dauphin Island into a Mobile Home directly across the street from the Marina.

(My Father - Dennis)

(My step-mom - Linda)

I am not sure how long I was there for but I remember going out to the docks every afternoon, grabbing the biggest fish I could off one of the boats and dragging it back to the scales. The fisherman loved me and would decide who had the biggest fish and have it ready before they ever hit the dock. I remember one day they came in with a 12' Hammerhead Shark and when they flopped it on the dock, I grabbed the tail and took off....they were in shock that a 30 pound kid could drag a 400 pound shark, in fact it took 3 big guys to hang it from the scale and hoist it up. After they would weigh their catch they would clean the fish and the dolphins (the mammal not the NFL team) would come to the docks and eat. The fisherman (and I) would feed the smaller fishies to them by hand. 

Once the boats and fisherman would leave I would jump in the water and go swimming with the dolphins. You see I had a unique gift as a child, I could lower my heart rate to only a few beats a minute. Now that may not sound extraordinary but trust me it is. When your heart is only beating once or twice a minute you can hold your breath for really really long periods of time. 

** There is a great Wiki about Free Diving which requires people to have this ability. ** 

Needless to say, every day, when the dolphins would bring me back to the dock or boat ramp my father would be there waiting to tear my ass up. Not in an abusive way, but in a corporal punishment break a leather belt on your backside kind of way.

At some point, my step-mom had had enough of my mother's shit. The constant whoring around, the draining my dad of money, the late night calls to drive 30-100 miles away to come rescue her from some bar or jail. So they sent my mom home to Atlanta, but I staid on the island and it was the happiest few months of my life.

 Some time later, my Dad and Stepmom decided to drive me to my Godfather's house in Atlanta, GA to visit with my mother. The visit was a disaster. My mom and step-mom where at each other's throats from the get go. When we went to leave and head back to Dauphin Island my mother asked me who I loved more, her or Linda.....like a blooming freaking idiot I told the truth "Linda, she is nice to me!". Well that put a stop to me going back to Dauphin Island for good.

Almost as soon as my Dad and Linda left the beatings and abuse started. I was 4 years old at the time but over the next 9 years I would endure a living hell that will be difficult to put into words.

Daddy's Gone:

From the age of 4-5 until 11 I rarely saw my mother, she would disappear for weeks and sometime months at a time. I always knew she was shacked up with someone new but rarely knew who it was. Eventually, she would feel guilty and come home promising things would be different that she was going to be a good mother.

I guess it was around the age of 5 when I learned the truth, the reason my mother was bat shit fucking crazy. I came home (to my Godfather's) from school one day and caught her getting fucked by some dude who kept calling her Sandy. It was right then I knew she was multiple people. Although I didn't know what Multiple Personality Disorder was at the time I knew she was sick. My mom lost it when she realized I was home and hit me, so the dude hit her back. In the process his glass eye went flying across the room. He was actually pretty cool, he picked it up and showed it to me and then put it back in. I never saw him again after that but it didn't take long I was wishing he had taken me with him.

Over the years I learned that there where at least 3 people living inside my mother's brain. Deborah was a beautiful, kind hearted woman that would give the clothes off her body to a complete stranger. Sandy was a ravenous nymphomaniac that thought she was the greatest thing to ever have a vagina. The third person, whom I don't recall ever knowing the name of, was a terrifying psychopath that would as soon rib your dick off and shove it up your ass as look at you.

I am pretty sure that the 3rd personality was the most dominant one and strongly suspect it was a man; although I really have no basis for that other than I saw that personality in more than a few fights and it didn't act like no woman I have ever met.

Summer Vacations:

At some point around the age of 7, mother decided she was gonna find herself a boyfriend in Florida so we could go down there on vacation in the summer. The very first summer we did that I was 7 or 8 years old. The guy seemed nice, but he was a hard core alcoholic that drank from the time his feet hit the floor in the morning until he went to bed (and by went to bed I mean passed the hell out) at night.

I can still picture his house like it was yesterday. It was in a wooded (pines I think) area and was several acres in size. It was on a narrow road but was only a few miles from a boat launch into some large body of water. Not sure if it was the Gulf of Mexico or the Atlantic Ocean.

One day he decided to take me, my mom, my mom's girlfriend (yes that kind) and the girlfriends two sons all out on his boat. The day went pretty smoothly and everyone was having fun and getting plastered, including us three kids. When we got back to the boat ramp there were a gazillion tiny sand crabs everywhere and them little fuckers were hungry. So in a brief Gentlemanly way he said he would go get the truck/trailer and mom could drive the boat on it, once he had us out of the water he would stop and let us get out of the boat. Sadly, by the time mom drive the boat on the trailer he forgot all common sense and took off towards the house. When he made the 90 degree turn into his driveway the boat flipped off the trailer and the pass-through window landed on my left leg and shattered. It damn near cut my leg off completely, had my mother not managed to catch the edge of the boat with her feet when she landed it would have.

The girlfriend and her two sons came and lifted the boat so that mom and I could get out from under it. When I crawled out my leg was severed to the bone and almost 3/4 the way around. I had seen some first aid before so I quickly took my shirt off and made a tourniquet around my leg. By some miracle it pushed the femoral artery down but didn't cut it. I was in shock almost immediately, and as a result was crazy calm. It was a good thing too because my mom was like "its just a scratch, walk it off". After much raising hell my mom finally agreed to take me to the hospital. Of course as soon as she sat in the car she passed out. I was afraid I was going to loose my leg or die so I wasn't waiting. I pushed her over to the passenger seat of the car and hoped behind the wheel. Fortunately I knew where the hospital was and made it there just in the nick of time. After a 20+ mile drive to the nearest hospital I parked and walked into the ER and promptly collapsed. When I came too there was a team of doctors and nurses and surgeons repairing my leg. You remember that femoral artery I mentioned earlier.....well it burst on the way to the hospital and I didn't know it because I had a towel wrapped around the wound.

When I got out of surgery everyone was like "how did you get here", knowing the absolute hell I would get in if I told the truth I told them that my mother drove me, but that she was sick and waiting in the car. Like complete morons they released me a few hours later and I drove myself home. My mom slept in the car until early the next morning. When she finally came in the house she beat the bejesus out of me because she didn't believe my story, even after I showed her the surgical bandages and the 168 stitches and staples holding my leg together.

 *** This is starting to make me physically ill, again, so I am going to have to stop for today. Please follow me and check back for more of the story! ***