Professional Documents
Culture Documents
[TRUE STORY]
by Daniel J Towsey
http://ca.groups.yahoo.com/group/conspiraciesclub/message/910
I also especially hope that others who have been abused will
follow my lead and write about it. Then publish it so others
can read it...
One day when I was about six. I got to visit my Grand Mother
Towsey at her home for the day. It was the first time in my
life that I had ever been in a place that was peaceful and
safe.
The rest of that day I spent in a tiny high fenced closed off
mud ground back yard and dug a hole in the ground and
threw barbels in it. I was the most loneliest child in the
world. In my whole childhood I never once played with other
children. I never laughed. I could not and did not know how
to share my emotions. I was completely emotionally de-
stroyed.
You see while I was in Ottawa I could not attend school. I was
so psychologically scared that I could not function around
anyone.
Some kind kids tried to befriend me. But I could not. I did not
know how to deal with any emotions of any kind.
Obviously the teacher was not aware I did not speak English.
She was giving instructions to the class. I was not respond-
ing. So she like my father screamed at me. She screamed
“Daniel”. That I understood but as my normal reaction I ran
under a table and and was terrified of her.
I always had one problem though. I could never walk far be-
cause of the broken leg I got when I was about two. When my
father threw me down two stories of straight stairs. Then hid
me in a closet while my broken leg healed. I never got medi-
cal attention and my leg never healed right. I have walked
with difficulty and pain all my life.
He did not get mad, for he was a pro and had ulterior mo-
tives to be kind. He was a child predator.
The worker did not know why I did not stay and I always
wanted to sit then leave. Plus the more I walked or stood the
more irritable I got because of the pain. Which at the time I
did not understand this.
This social worker was given an assignment to spend as much time as he wanted with me.
The purpose was to help me to trust someone. In hopes that I would come out of my introver-
sion. He would drive me to huge museums (Ottawa has many) during times when they were
relatively empty of people. He would drive me to isolated places such as provincial parks. He
would always make sexual advances towards me. I kept trying to stay away from him. He
used to masturbate, and ejaculate in the car sitting beside me. He would always try to gain
my trust.
Until one day, when we were in the Laurentians of Quebec. It was a beautiful
very hot summer day. We were driving around in the lowlands of never ending straw fields. I
was sitting there distracted by the beauty that I had never seen before. I turned to look at him
while we were parked. He was doing a lot of moving around. To my horror. He had stripped
off naked. He reached out to grab me. I got so scared. I jumped out of the car and ran and
ran. Down the gravel dusty road. He could not come after me right away because he had to
get dressed. I jumped into a field of tall grass. I stayed down low. I did not know what to do. I
could not see a house anywhere. He could not find me. I could hear his car racing for miles.
He drove past me many times. It was such a beautiful natural quite spot. The contrast be-
tween the beauty of the place and the horror of my situation was ……….mind boggling. It was
around noontime when we got there. The sun was in the middle of the sky. When it started
getting dark. I realized I had to make a decision that I did not want to make. I had no way out
of there. I was so scared. I had no choice but to stand and let him see me. He raced over. To
my amazement, he appeared just as terrified and scared as I was .He was pleading yelling
asking, for me to trust him. He said he wont do anything to me. I finally agreed to get back in
his car. I stayed there crunched against my door. Terrified………………for the long ride home.
I do not know what the worker said to my father. But then, I now entered into another night-
mare, of the never-ending child abuse from my father. My father would of beat me to death, if
it was not for my mother stopping him. He then put another beating on my mother.
One sunny day I was told I had to go outside and see that
social worker again.
I was so horrified...
I did not ever want to see him again, but looking into my fa-
thers scary vicious eyes. I had no choice.
I went out. And for the first time I took a really good look at
this guys face. So I would never forget what this child mo-
lester or pervert’s face looks like...
I looked at him and gave him the look that I absolutely did
not care that he ripped them..
With the full protection of the courts and the Ottawa Chil-
dren’s Aid Society.
For no one except for my grand mother had ever really cared
about me...
http://my.opera.com/danieltowsey/blog/