Morning Coffee Read: “Just Be a Good Girl,” By Author, Pennie Scott

Morning Coffee Read: “Just Be a Good Girl,” By Author, Pennie Scott

“As a ten year old girl, Deja Young goes through a dehumanizing ordeal with someone new that recently entered her life. Dealing with this ordeal along with serious family issues, made growing up for Deja a lot harder than it had to be. But Deja does grow up with traumatizing memories that haunts her like a ghost.”

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DEJA YOUNG

LITTLE GIRL LOST

 

 

“Hey Deja, you want to play a game?”

“Sure,” Deja said, with her voice full of excitement.

As Norman and Deja walked through the house, Deja noticed that Norman had his shirt off, but she didn’t think anything of it. She walked with him, holding his trusting hand, from the family room down the small hallway, up the stairs to his bedroom feeling a little special that he wants to play a game with her.

“Lie down on the bed,” he instructed. She did as he asked.

“Close your eyes.”

His voice sounded a little different, Deja thought. Again, she did as he said. Not a second after Deja had her eyes closed, she felt Norman climb on top of her.

What is he doing? What is he doing? I don’t like this… Deja thought.  She didn’t understand what his body was doing when he got on top of her.

“Norman, stop. NORMAN, STOP! NORMAN, PLEASE STOP!”

Deja pleaded in vain.  She didn’t understand exactly what had happened to her but by the time he got off of her, Deja knew that what had just taken place was completely wrong. That one instance made her feel like a completely different person. As the tears fell from her eyes she felt a part of her slip away. A part that was lost forever, and never coming back.

It was very easy for Norman to molest Deja continuously for months. He was the son of her father’s best friend, Nicholas Mitchell, who had recently moved into their neighborhood with his wife Karen and youngest son Norman. There oldest son Nicholas Jr. had recently graduated from college and moved to Washington D.C. to start his career as a lawyer. Shortly after the Mitchell’s moved, Mrs. Young took a part-time job and with Deja being ten years old and an only child, her parents thought that she was to young  to come home to a empty house by herself. Mr. Young also worked a second job, so they wanted someone to look after her when she came home from school. That’s where The Mitchell’s son came in. Norman Mitchell’s family only lived a few blocks from Deja’s school. Both of Norman’s parents worked too, but when they were asked if Norman, a senior in high school, would agree to pick Deja up from school and let her stay at their house until her mother came to pick her up, everyone agreed.

Deja had no problem with that at the beginning. Norman seemed nice when they first met and Deja noticed that he would go out of his way to play with her when the familes got together for a visit. But not long after Norman started picking her up from school, things changed for the worse.

Deja was molested repeatedly off and on for about four months. She never told anyone because Norman had a hold on her. One day when Norman picked Deja up from school, he heard her curse at a boy in her class. Not caring when Deja tried to explain that the boy had been teasing her for the last couple of days and ‘go to hell’ just came out wasn’t the issue. The issue was she cursed and that was a big ‘no, no.’ Norman observed  that  Deja’s parents were a no nonsense sort of people and expected there daughter to behave and act accordingly. Mind your manners, do your best in school and don’t give your teachers or anyone in authority any trouble, where the words that Norman heard repeated to Deja every time he was around her.  Basically she was being raised to be a good girl. A good girl, who would do as she was told by her elders or even a older teenager. A good girl who would not talk back, no matter what the circumstances were. In Norman’s perverted mind he saw Deja as an opportunity to take full advantage of.  And take advantage he did.

Norman remembered overhearing a conversation that Mrs.Young, had with Mrs. Mitchell about Deja saying a curse word to her cousin. Her mother  emphasize how she tore her up from the floor up to make it clear that she didn’t want her daughter speaking like that to anyone, ever again. That’s not the type of girl she was raising. Norman reminded Deja of that beating and that in order for him not to tell, she would have to do everything that he said to do. Norman saw the terror in Deja’s eyes if he told her mother what she had said. He even got a kick out of it because he knew he could have complete control of her. Yelling at her for something she was already beaten once for was one thing Deja feared. Another beating on top of that was even more terrifying to her. So, Norman won without a fight. One bad word, a malicious minded neighbor and a little bit of blackmail all on a ten year old shoulders. Norman was her real live monster.

During that time Deja was an emotional roller coaster. She spent many sleepless nights in bed wondering if Norman was going to ‘bother her’ the next time she went to his house.  She knew what Norman was doing to her was wrong, but she didn’t know or fully understand how wrong. All she knew was that she had no control over her own body and how awful she felt every time he laid down on her. Deja would get sick to her stomach on the days she had to go to Norman’s house and even sicker days after she was there and if he violated that day. Norman was so mean; sometimes he would torment her on those days and have her wondering the whole time she was at his house if he would ‘bother her’ that day or not. Sometimes, he wouldn’t but he would make her think that he would. Other days he did molest her, no matter how hard she cried. Her grades were up and down and her teacher called home and asked Mrs.Young what was wrong with Deja because not a week would go by without Deja asking to go to the bathroom complaining she felt sick to her stomach. Her mother thought it was due to her and Deja’s father arguing all the time. Not a week would go by without Deja’s parents arguing about any and everything. Mrs. Young didn’t let on to the teacher how bad things were at home but inside she felt that maybe the arguing was affecting Deja. She couldn’t blame Deja if it was because it was starting to affect her as well.  Arguing, unloving parents and a trusted family friend who would molest her at his leisure was a lot for a ten year old to handle.

Finally, by God’s grace during Christmas break, Deja was told by her mother that she didn’t have to go to Norman’s house any more. Norman had graduated from high school a semester early and had signed up to join the army. Deja also had made friends with The Linden sisters, who had recently moved to her block. So she was able to go to their home after school and wait for her mother to pick her up from there. Even if Norman wasn’t going away, these girls would be her escape from him as well as getting away from her arguing parents. Deja thought that her problems dealing with Norman were over and her life would be better. And for a while it was. Her grades went up and stayed up. She didn’t feel sick to her stomach any more. She didn’t have to worry about Norman at all because he was gone. Even with arguing parents, life as she knew it, was good once again.

It wasn’t until a year and a half later, when Deja and her Mom had their first ‘sex talk’ that she fully realized how much Norman had violated her body. Her parents didn’t think it was necessary for her to know about sex before then.   It wasn’t something that was discussed. She didn’t bother to tell either one of her parents about what had happened to her because she was so devastated when her mother explained what sex was all about. She just cried all night long in silence, asking herself over and over again why would Norman do that to her. Did I do something to make him do that? That’s all she kept thinking, all night while she cried her heart out. It was devastating to her and made her look at sex very negatively. She thought that sex was dirty, nasty, filthy and disgusting. After all, that’s how Norman made her feel every time he ‘bothered her.’ It made her ashamed of her body. She had developed a lot faster then other girls her age. Is it my body that madeNorman bother me? she thought. Deja’s whole view of sex and making love was totally distorted and it made her not want any man to make love to her. She figured if she allowed herself to have sex with any man, she would be allowing him to do the same thing that Norman did to her. And of course, if she wasn’t going to have sex, there was no need to get married. With what Norman had done to her and living with parents that were in a bad marriage, her whole idea of love and marriage and everything that goes along with it, was destroyed. She firmly made herself believe that sex was dirty and nasty and she would never let any man make her feel the same way Norman did. Never again.

Back Cover Summary:

JUST BE A GOOD GIRL

As a ten year old girl, Deja Young goes through a dehumanizing ordeal with someone new that recently entered her life.  Dealing with this ordeal along with serious family issues, made growing up for Deja a lot harder than it had to be. But Deja does grow up with traumatizing memories that haunts her like a ghost.
Deja flows through what she believes to be a normal pattern of life, although she wishes one thing would change.   Deja wishes that she would meet that special someone who would accept her completely for who she is.   As scared and doubtful as she is, Deja is waiting for her “Knight in Shining Armor” and to her surprise eventually finds him. However, she doesn’t trust her “Knight”, her faith, or even herself to know what true love really is.

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Chimia HillBurton 6 pts

I have said it before, you have an amazing spirit and your writing shows it. I enjoyed reading this book from the rough draft to the finished product. As always I wish much success on all your achievements. GREAT JOB PENNY! 

Jacqueline West 6 pts

Walter...I agree...Pennie is on her way!!!!! Just Be a Good Girl is a page turner!!!  Once I started the book I couldn't stop.  A good read...a MUST read.  Our sons, daughters, aunts, uncles, cousin should have this book...GO GET IT!!!!!

Pennie Scott is a rising literary talent.  Just Be A Good Girl is a story that had to be told and will touch the lives of all who read it!!!

EkFree 6 pts

to be the father of two daughters.............to have two friends whom i love dearly who went through this ordeal.........to be a husband ,...........to read this passage is very hard to do. but you must......to fully understand the emotion of the book. i've read  "Just Be a Good Girl" and i believe that every young MAN and Woman  should read it. it will inspire and encourage all who read it. i'm 52 and i learned some things young girls go through that i never knew before. i plan on both my teenage daughters reading it. i was'nt able to put it down.

Kiwiwriter 613 pts

This is a very upsetting subject for me...as a father of a teenage daughter, and the son of a woman who was sexually molested as a little girl, by an older cousin. I think that a LOT of my mother's borderline narcissism and general craziness was brought on by that ordeal.

 

I've told my pals that when I'm hooked for jury duty, if they voir dire me for a child molestation case, I'm probably going to be prejudiced against the defendant, on general principles. If someone touched my daughter, the police action would not be that guy's problem...it would be pulling my Alex Rodriguez baseball bat out of his posterior.

 

It's an excellent piece of writing, and I hope it does very well, and reinforces an important message for its readers and everyone affected by it.

 

I don't know if I'm going to read it myself, though.

KimberlyJessy1 66 pts

 Kiwiwriter she was damaged badly the cousin STOLE and SCARRED her Soul. sorry to hear this brother.

Kiwiwriter 613 pts

 KimberlyJessy1  Oh, yeah. No question of that. And this was in 1941, when the whole support systems that exist in England and the United States today weren't even dreamed of. Instead, England was in the midst of an unbelievably bloody world war, with the Luftwaffe hammering English cities on a nightly basis. Everything was subordinated to the war.

 

She was betrayed by this cousin, who was supposed to take care of her while her family was taking care of her father, who was dying in hospital of pneumonia. There were shortages of everything, including medicine, and what little was available was going to men wounded in battle.

 

Somehow, Mom rationalized it...she supposedly told Kathy (my wife) at some point that she had been "deflowered" as a little girl, and "enjoyed it," but she never said a word about the molestation to me. I only heard about it from one of Mom's friends, shortly before Mom's death. I did NOT bring it up with Mom.

 

The experience traumatized her, I'm sure, and made her extremely distrustful of her family. She emotionally bullied us and dominated us, and repeatedly accused me of conspiring to destroy her life. After I turned 12 years old, which I think was the age of her molester at the time, she increasingly began to berate and belittle me, and she went on doing so all my life. At the same time, she would use suicide threats to get her way. She alternated between hammering me as being stupid and worthless and telling me to my face that I had to provide her with "a reason to live."

 

Kathy noticed, when we were cleaning up Mom's stuff after her death, that she had hundreds of photographs of me when I was a little kid...but after I turned 12, she stopped taking pictures of me. It was as if she lost interest in me.

 

Actually, I knew she lost interest in me when I went in the Navy, and was shipped to Japan to defend democracy by airing up re-runs of "Who's the Boss" on the AFRTS radio/tv station in Sasebo. Three weeks after I got to Japan, my birthday hit, and it was a tough birthday for me...I was far from home, in a strange occupation and nation, in the Navy, and surrounded by people who I had not yet bonded with, and were for the most part, 10 years younger than me. I was completely alone.

 

My birthday came and went with no card from home, and after a week and a half, I was struck that I got a letter from a former girlfriend, but no card from my parents. A week later, I got a packet from home, with a letter from Dad (which did not mention my birthday), some news clippings, and a scribbled, "Hope you had a happy birthday!" message on the back of the envelope. That was it.

 

I phoned home from Japan, got Mom and Dad on the line, and said to them, "What the hell is this? You have two sons. One lives in Hoboken and his birthday is the 4th of July. Your other son is in Japan and has a birthday on November 7th. This is a 'binary solution set,' like you mathematicians like to say, and it shouldn't be hard to figure out which son has a birthday on November 7th, and to remember it. I didn't want a big present, I just wanted a card...all you did was scribble a sentence on the back of an envelope well after it was over...like I was an afterthought!"

 

Mom gave me an unconvincing explanation that they had planned a big package for the birthday, but they got into a lot of other things, and their porous plans fell through. I told them I didn't want a big package, I wanted one of Dad's home-made birthday cards with one of his cartoons...nothing more. And in time for the day.

 

They promised to remember my birthdays.

 

Dad started sending cartoons about my life in Japan, based on my letters home, which were a big help, and the following year, they remembered my birthday on time.

 

But in my third year in Japan, they forgot it again. I didn't phone home this time...I chewed them out in a letter. No response.

 

From these experiences, I realized that I was only this big important factor in Mom's life when I was actually around for her to beat up...when I was out of sight, I was very much out of mind, and she had no interest in me, whether I lived or died. She didn't care beyond taking money out of my bank account for shopping or whatever (I was the only member of my family who was getting a regular income at the time). She wasn't interested in me, and didn't care.

 

That was a real shock.

 

More coming...

Kiwiwriter 613 pts

 KimberlyJessy1 

She never really realized who I was...when I was doing my Navy Basic Journalism School in Indianapolis, I was havingt a hard time with it...the clas was configured for semi-literate high school kids, and I had 10 years experience and a fistful of real journalism awards when I was at the class, and the Mickey Mouse nature of the class irritated me. I phoned Mom one tough afternoon to vent a little to her and Dad about the situation, and Mom grandiosely announced, "Well, you're not exactly a veteran in this business, you know. You could benefit from a general basic writing course." I hit the ceiling (which I usually did when someone said something that stupid) and hollered at Mom over the phone, telling her to go upstairs to my room, find my folder full of clips, and sit down and read each one of them, and then read the award plaques I'd received. And after she had read every single article I'd written, then she could write to me and tell me precisely how and where I could "benefit from a general basic writing course."

 

She tried to backpedal, but I wasn't listening. I was screaming so loudly, that the Navy Senior Chief Journalist, Evelyn S. Jutte, who was nearby, walked over to see what the commotion was. I cupped my hand over the phone, and said to Chief Jutte, "I'm on the phone with my mother, ma'am. Please excuse me."

 

"Your mother?" Jutte gasped. Her eyes bugged out of her head. She had probably never seen anyone scream at their mother. However, she couldn't intervene, because it was, after all, a family matter. I yelled at Mom a little more, and told Mom not to write to me unless she indicated on the front of the envelope that she had read all my articles. Jutte walked off shaking her head, and I hung up the phone. Chief Jutte never brought up the incident again.

 

A week later, I got something I rarely got from Mom...a letter from her. She let Dad do the writing to me. She told me later that he enjoyed it, so she didn't want to take away his pleasure. Or something like that. Mom's letter did not say "I have read your articles." It did have a photograph of one of our cats on it. I was about to mark it "RTS," but then something inside me told me to open it.

 

In the letter, she started off with banalities about the cats, the house, the garden, Dad's precarious health, and Hoboken. After a page-and-a-half of this, she warmed to the major topic, admitting that she was wrong to say I needed to take a "general basic writing course." She suggested that the reason I was having problems was that the class was a kindergarten for journalists, and I was obviously well past kindergarten, and that I should just make the best  of it. Or something like that. I still have the letter, with all the other letters we swapped while I was in the Navy. It was as close as she ever came to admitting that I knew my trade of journalism. But it also made me realize that she didn't  know a damn thing about me.

 

So I think that molestation incident had a huge incident on her life...she turned inwards, feared and distrusted the world, overreacted to everything, saw everyone as plotting against her, and put people in pigeonholes out of which they could never emerge. She was terribly badly damaged by what happened to her, and she inflicted her suffering on her kids, continuing the cycle.

 

When Wallis was born, I made it my business to break the cycle, using the negative lessons I had learned from my parents (Dad had his moments) as examples of what NOT to do...and the result is that I have not yelled at Wallis in years...I can't even remember what I last yelled at her for. I have never spanked her, and I've only grounded her twice. In fact, she has, at age 15, wisely counseled me. She did so today, when I told her for the first time my story about being seared for life by mathematics at NYU.

 

There are two things I have done right in my life...write and read the eulogy for my father-in-law in 2010...and raise my daughter.

 

So that's the part of child molestation I guess doesn't get covered by the books and disease-of-the-week movies with Lindsay Wagner as the tearful mother/district attorney...how it impacts the two generations that follow.

 

Someone should do a study of the sons and daughters of the victims of child molestation.

VintageNarcissa 3151 pts

Beautifully written. I can't wait to read more. 

dasdbobb 1380 pts

This sends chill up my back.  I want to beat Norman to death, revive him and do it again for good measure.  WOW!

KimberlyJessy1 66 pts

 dasdbobb yes revive him then beat him some more!

jbaggps 5 pts

 dasdbobb So do I. Thank you/

KimberlyJessy1 66 pts

wow is all I can say, I want NORMAN Drowned!

jbaggps 5 pts

Thank you for your response.