CHAPTER 1
THIS ROAD LEADS TO HELL
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On October thirteenth, 1988 my divorce to Devon was final.I felt a load of intense pressure lifted from my chest and a hugesigh of relief. As one might expect, it wasn't quit that easy though.Post-traumatic stress syndrome settled heavily in on me, almostimmediately, causing a mental condition known as "disassociationfrom reality" requiring in-patient treatment. I was overwhelmedthat I was not strong enough to battle that off after all I had beenthrough. The treatment for that condition would be on-goingwith medications, but I did return to functioning with my careerand my family obligations. Devon continued to interfere in ourlives, on a regular basis, until 1995, experienced by extremelyodd occurrences or possibly a huge black cloud hanging overmy entire family with no real explanation. I tried to ignore theincidents or rationalize that these bizarre events were justcoincidental.
One day while I was working as RN, Director of Nursing,at a local nursing home, an elderly frail gentleman sat in hiswheelchair alone in the dining room. As I passed by he pleadedthat he needed to give me a prophetic message from God. Thisman had been a Pentecostal pastor in previous years and he knewnothing about my life. He said God had told him to relay to me thatI had been married to Satan himself! He continued that Devonhad been instructed to marry someone beautiful, and the morebeautiful, the more POWER he would receive. The gentlemanfurther stated that Devon was to bring me down to the lowestdepth of Hell and leave me. Tears were rolling down the old man'scheeks, his hands were shaking and his voice was quivering. I wasin awe of his words. The wrinkled old man, looked me squarelyin the eyes, and stated I was to NEVER stop looking over myshoulder, that danger for me and my family was still lurking aboutus. I sat there stunned, but quickly realized the elderly gentlemanwas drained by what he had just shared, so I pushed him in hiswheelchair to his room and ... HE WEPT.
My thoughts kept trailing back to the unexpected conversationwith the nursing home resident. It was shocking that he couldknow so much, but have no clue what my life had been about. Isat and pondered it, analyzed it and cried about the bluntness inwhich he gave me a warning, from God, as he put it. I found myselfin deep thought, remembering the point in time I did question if Iwas married to a monster, or Satan, himself. The last Thanksgivingthat Devon and I were together, I cooked the turkey and dressingthe day before. As usual, he would not allow me and my daughtersto spend the Holiday with my family, so for the first time in mylife I actually prepared the traditional meal. I put it in the ice boxfor the night, and planned to warm it the following day for ourfestive dinner. I got up the next morning and went to the kitchento begin my duties, in a holiday spirit. Much to my surprise, I wasshocked as I entered the kitchen to see the turkey pulverized.My head was spinning as I focused on the carcass of the turkeyon the cabinet, bone picked dry of all the meat. There weredroppings of grease and meat pieces on the floor and completemutilation of the dinner I had prepared. I allowed my eyes tocircle around the kitchen in dismay. The pan I had prepared thedressing in was empty and dressing was smudged all over thekitchen cabinets, ice box door, the oven etc. I was gasping at thethought of what could have happened in here while the girls andI had been sleeping. I rushed to the bedroom and saw Devonasleep in the bed. As on all previous nights he drank Scotch to thepoint of "black out" and then would pass out. I stood and staredat the horrific sight. He had dressing all over his face, in his hairand underneath his fingernails. He looked like a viscous blackpanther after ripping meat apart from his prey and shredding it.I felt evil was controlling our lives through this savage fiend whomanifested wickedness to its height of all possibilities. There wasno Thanksgiving dinner for us that day and to explain that to twoyoung girls was deplorable.
I had decided to move on from all of that. I would not considermyself a victim, but a survivor, instead. My oldest daughter, Leslieand my youngest daughter, Salem and I were strong. I felt residualeffects from the abusive marriage, but my daughters did notdisplay any ill effects from it. It was not unusual for me to bragon Salem for being so strong that she actually saved my life manytimes, from the attacks made on me, by Devon. We were bondingagain and doing the mother-daughter activities, trying to makeup for lost time and reshaping our lives in a positive manner. Lifebecame enjoyable again and rather uneventful, but I was soon tolearn it was the calm before the storm.
In 1991, Salem (age 10), became very ill with 105 degreefever, swollen joints and a gruesome rash all over her body,suffering severe pain. Doctors locally and afar examined herand could not figure it out. One physician tried to prepare methat we could lose Salem, since she was that ill, and with theuncertainty of what she had, there were no guarantees. Shebecame immobilized and could not walk at intermittent times,requiring homebound school for two years. Her hair was fallingout in clumps. She was hospitalized several times and when shewas at home I administered IV antibiotics, per the physician'sorders. They first suspected Lyme disease, then polyarthralgiaand other educated guesses. My mind constantly reflected back toa story Devon had once told me. He said his third wife's daughterdeveloped a brain tumor after they divorced and the girl died. Myheart would race at this thought, and wondered if he really hadsome kind of bizarre power, as he stated he did, that could inflictillness and such great pain on so many people. I drove Salem toScott and White in Temple, TX many times and a doctor made thediagnosis of a rare disease called Palestine Disease or Five StarComplex. She was placed on oral chemo therapy medicine for twoyears, but no change could be detected in her symptoms. Manytrips were made to the local ER, with major flare-ups, but sincethey had never heard of what she supposedly had, they wouldtreat the pain symptoms and send us on our miserable way. Itwas more than frustrating. As a mom and an RN, I was powerlessto do anything to soothe my daughter's pain and crying. Devon,somehow heard of Salem's illness and phoned me to torment methat his plan for us was going on schedule, then would laugh likea hyena and hang up. I couldn't take the stress anymore. I was anervous wreck worrying about Salem, holding down a Director ofNursing position of a large nursing home and Devon's harassment.I felt like I was about to lose it. But something deep inside ofme kept compelling me to go forward. I wasn't a quitter and mychildren needed me.
I made calls to the physician at Scott and White to questionif there were any new treatment modalities. The last phonecall I made, my heart was stricken with fear when I was toldthat funds for researching this disease were all used up and nofurther testing was to be done. What? Nobody told me. It was along, dark, lonely road looking for new help, but we ended up ata rheumatologist in the neighboring big city, near our home townof Plainview. Once again, the previously stated diagnosis wasforeign to this doctor, so it was concluded she had polyarthralgiaand fibromyalgia. Multiple medication changes ensued and thenarcotic analgesics were a necessity, in an attempt to control herpain. Salem seemed to stabilize for a while or go into some kindof remission, but then it would start all over. It appeared this wasgoing to be a life-long ailment, for some unknown reason. It madeno sense that this highly energetic little girl, who was the windbeneath my wings, suddenly had a life-changing, painful illness.
In the midst of these remissions, Salem got attacked by a catthat roamed about a grassland field "wild", in a neighborhood herfriend lived in, where she had gone to play one afternoon. Thecat attacked Salem scratching and biting her arms and would notlet go. The cat had patches of hair missing, was emaciated andhad been running wild for a long period of time, the neighborsinformed me. A search was done but the cat never resurfaced.It was inevitable that Salem would have to endure the rabiesvaccination series. My heart sank. Once again I felt a stabbingnumbness, and I knew that our lives were out of control. Why wasall this happening, especially to Salem?
We continued to deal with the physical illness over the nextcouple of years. I openly admit and confess I felt guilty that Leslietook the back seat during this time, as Salem and my job weresucking the very life right out of me. I was exhausted. Leslienow seemed to be the strong sister, (three years older) and waspractically having to raise herself with very little input from me.I praise her for her endurance and strength. Leslie did not wantto be around during the medical treatments that her little sister,including the many restarts of IV's, Salem endured sitting right atour kitchen table. I look back now, and as a mom, I am not surehow I kept it together to probe for veins in my child's arm to startyet another IV. I surmised that we do what we must do during thetime and fall apart later.
I was so intent on Salem's physical condition, that I wasinitially unaware of her psycho social behaviors and emotionalstatus. Much of the time she could attend school and maintained5 or 6 close girlfriends. She did seem a bit withdrawn, or possiblysecretive, but I just assumed it was from all the medical issuesand illness. The Middle School called me one day to report shewas in a group of teen agers that got caught drinking Vodka on theschool grounds. I could not believe my ears, as I think all parentswould deny their child would ever do something like this. I wentand picked her up from school and she stated she was just takinga "sip" to try it for the first time. I will never know the truth aboutthat statement, but she had to attend school detention for severalweeks.
I did hone in on her behaviors more closely and noticedshe stayed in her bedroom a lot, on the phone even more anddid not share much with me anymore. I figured that this wasthe teenage thing to do, to separate some from mom and otherfamily interests. After all, she and I had been together constantlyfor years treating her illness, going to doctors and sitting at herbedside in hospital rooms. I quickly excused these mannerisms asa need for a little freedom and personal growth time.
Our home life was not without challenges. We had continuedto experience rather unusual events such as storm damage to ourhome costing $21,000 ensuing a complex fight with the insurancecompany. Vandalism to my new car was discovered and Salem'sdog was stolen and found in someone's vehicle in another townwith a note on its neck that read "I need a good home". Not tomention that with the home repair, the experienced woman whohung the beautiful new wall paper for us refused to re-enter ourhome after I contacted her on three occasions that the paper hadrolled perfectly off the wall from the top to the floor. She declaredshe had never had this happen before and after fixing it for thethird time she sent the glue to me and told me to fix it myself. Sheexplained she felt fearful in my house, as if there was a presenceof darkness and would not expose herself to it again. That broughtto my attention that our dog would stand for hours and bark at aparticular wall, almost every evening. Some other people thoughtthe dog sensed something there and insisted they could not comeback to visit either. I too, had sensed an a boding presence, but Iknew I had been under so much pressure, that my mind could beplaying tricks on me.
My mind, however, could not cause a personal illness thatI encountered of headaches, shortness of breath, profoundweakness and blurred vision. I finally went to the doctor and hechecked my carbon monoxide blood level and found it slightlyelevated. He encouraged me to have my home heating systemchecked out that day. The hot water tank was located in theclosest next to my bedroom with my vent being the nearest to theunit. A professional came to check it for me and discovered theexhaust pipe located approximately 16 inches above the unit, wasbent out of alignment and not connected, at all. My neighbors hadquestioned if this had anything to do with an unrecognized manand a woman they had seen walking around my house on recentoccasion even going into my back yard. My neighbors began towatch my house for me and reported they frequently saw Devondriving by. I had reported all these things and much more to thepolice in the past and nothing was done. I usually got a smirkor "it will be okay" and sent on my merry way. I was done withthem. I began to take one day and really one moment, at a time,expecting the unexpected and that is a horrible way to live. I triedto follow the motto that I would live, prepared but not paranoid. Isurvived that ordeal with some oxygen therapy and the pipe wasreconnected and life went on.
I was trying harder than ever to pull Salem out of herseclusion from her bedroom, but it wasn't really working. Shewouldn't even let me enter into her room at all. There were subtlechanges occurring that made me suspicious. I noticed she wasalways wearing long sleeves, kept the bathroom door locked,her eye make-up seemed to take on a shade darker color andthe type of music coming from behind her closed bedroom doorwas certainly NOT Country, Guns and Roses, Jim Morrison orVan Halen, that she previously liked. It was heavy metal shoutingobscenities and indescribable sex acts songs. One night shewas particularly forlorned and it took me hours to get her toopen up and talk. She then expressed they had had an assemblyat school that day, since the following day was the end of theschool year. She told me the lady principle stood before theentire middle school and announced who would not be passingto the next grade and Salem's name was one of them. I could notunderstand why Salem's name was among them, but I was moreoutraged that an adult leader would stand up and humiliate theseadolescents publicly not knowing their personal circumstances.Since the following day was the end of the school year, what werethey to do about it, at this late date, except be embarrassed andharassed? I knew this woman, from going to school with her inyears past, since she was one grade behind me. I never thoughtshe was likeable or had any sense but did not realize she was acomplete moron and got her thrills by being cruel and misusingher authority. I presented myself in her office the following dayand told her how inappropriate I thought this approach was. Shetook full credit and bragging rights, that as the school principle itwas completely her idea. I asked why my daughter's name was onthe list and she said Salem had not turned in a couple of weeks ofassignments. With further talking to Salem, I discovered she hadturned all of them in to the teacher over detention hall, which sheattended as reprimand for tasting Vodka on the school premisesand Mr. "Education" himself, did not do his job and follow upby turning them in to her home room teachers. So now, Salemwas plummeted into a hell that was created by this principlespoor decision making and being ridiculed by her classmates.This additional strain on her brought emphasis to an underlyingmental depression that was to become evident.
As Salem spiraled downward, it was clear to me, she neededcounseling. During the abusive years I experienced with Devon,I had seen a local Psychologist and he had a female counselorworking for him that I thought Salem, could get along with. I madean appointment against Salem's wishes, but it was past due. It wasapparent that something grave was going on with my daughterbut I could not pin point it. Since Salem was under age, the firstappointment with the counselor I attended, to give the base line ofthe problems.
I felt good that Salem was in counseling a couple of times aweek now and she could feel free to ventilate her feelings withoutfearing that I would hear any of it. Leslie seemed content in herlife pursuing her studies, in high school, and dating some. Sheretained a small group of girl friends that she socialized with daily.As for me, I was still working incredibly long hours at the nursinghome and was on call 24/7. Unless a person has ever workedas Director of a Nursing at a nursing home, you cannot begin tounderstand the overwhelming job that it is and the life consumingarena that it throws you into. The girls and I were attendingchurch of a Baptist denomination, since that is what I had grownup believing in. We were still attempting to put the pieces of ourlives back together again and carry on. It had just become routinethat Salem required frequent narcotic pain medications to remainmobile and still on many days she could not get out of bed. A greatworry for me, but no one offered any further answers and we hadexhausted a host of physicians. I did fear her becoming addicted,but I did not know what else to do. Physical therapy had beentried, ultrasounds, heat and cold therapy as well, but to no avail.
After approximately three weeks of counseling for Salem, thecounselor asked to see me. I met with her and she explained thatSalem was a joy to work with. She further stated, she seemed to bea typical teenager that was dealing with the fibromyalgia pain, butshe certainly didn't suspect drugs, sexual promiscuity or anythingadverse. She questioned if I wanted the sessions to continue.My answer was an affirmative "yes". I continued to witness thechanges in my daughter, especially her clothing attire, and couldnot understand this counselor's casual attitude.
At approximately age 14 Salem had met a boy and they spenta lot of time talking on the phone. On a rare occasion, she wouldhave me talk to him, on the phone. He seemed soft spoken andappropriate, but I told Salem he spoke so slowly it sounded likehis brain was fried from drugs or something. Much later Salemadmitted he had done drugs and had been in gangs in Texas, buthe had cleaned up his act. I wasn't sure about that but it seemedharmless, but I still sensed many things were not within normallimits, so Salem still required help. I did find out the young boywas being raised by his grandmother and he had been diagnosedwith schizophrenia. That was not a good indication.
The following weekend, my girls were with their biologicalfather, who faithfully came to Plainview every other weekend tospend time with them, from Dallas, TX. He and I had divorcedafter eleven years of marriage simply because we grew apart. Hewas the one that got to spoil the girls with presents, vacations andsplurging on them. Rarely to never did he play the disciplinarianrole. Since that fell upon me, I was the parent least liked. Whilethey were away one Saturday, I ventured into Salem's bedroom. Istood there aghast! I didn't even understand what I was viewing,but I was afraid, very afraid. My heart was beating fast, my kneesweakened, the air felt thick and it was hard to inhale. My visiondarkened and I felt I was going to pass out. I was totally blownaway. God, please help me to help my daughter!
I made my way to the telephone, because I had to speak withSalem immediately. Her father (my ex-husband) did not want tobother her, but I insisted she come back to the house now. Shewas dropped off an hour later and I was sweating and frantic. Iled her to her bedroom and she knew something was very wrong.She began to yell and scream telling me I had no business goingnear her room and that is why the door remained closed. I hadpreviously had no reason to suspect anything vile was going on inthere, but lately, with all the changes I was observing, I knew nowthat I had waited far too long to inspect her environment.
