Deceitful Intentions

Against All Odds~ (Entry 5) {1995}


Dear Diary,

It was nearly noonish. My heart was racing, palms sweaty, and muscles full of tension. I was about to purposely lie to my “social worker”. Then again, was it my fault? This deranged, elderly women was harassing me to do so. What if I failed my attempt? I would be utterly devoured into my own misery and humiliation. There was a faint knock at the door…I stood by “Nana” eager to discover the updated news on my father. “Welcome back”! “Delighted to see you again…how is everything progressing so far”? The elderly women nudged me. “I am most content”. I snarled with a pretentious smile. “OMG”! What happened to your arms? I smiled again, but this time fidgeted with a panicky gesture. “I have been clumsy and “tripped” a few times on my way down the stairs”.

“You gotta love children”! Nana snickered. “They are always, indeed full of surprises aren’t they”? The women with the badge nodded in discernment. “Okay “sweetie”, move along now and go in your room for a nap”. I nodded, and smiled back at my social worker trying to hold back tears. I had noticeable dimples on both sides of my cheeks regardless…but, that was besides the point. (Laughs) Perhaps more like “the point of no return”. I awkwardly waddled my way to the dim room that had haunted me for several months now. Gently closing the door behind me; I began to once again… listen in on Nana, and my social worker’s discreet discussion.

“So far, from what we have gathered…the child will remain in custody with social services until further notice”. “We have speculated that David has been a persistent seller of illegal drugs for quite some time now”. The elderly women scuffed. “I hope, leaving the child in your care is not a hinderance”? “We found out earlier this week…David was concealing 73 pounds of meth inside his van. “We assume he was using the hemp seeds to generate some form of profit… as a means to sustain himself”. The women with the badge rambled on. “The investigation will be ongoing, and the legal guardian of Kristi is not a suitable match”. “Our mission is to place the child into a stable environment that will allow her to thrive, provide her structure, and stimulate her young mind.

Despite being a small person; I was convinced the outcome of this conversation was about to turn out very ugly. My father was hiding drugs for a form of money? He was an impulsive liar, and I hated him for not protecting me from this cruel place. I HATED HIM! Once again, the tears trickled down my little face. I felt betrayed and trapped. The torture was continuous and I had just lied to my social worker’s face without blinking an eye. Maybe she was able to read me like a book? I flopped on the floor and deliberated. “How could he do this to me”? I thought out loud. I am supposed to be his priority, his daughter, the apple of his eye…I sniffled feebly. I ease-dropped once more.

“This child is no other than a burden just like all the other children”. Nana howled. “However, someone has to keep them in line and if it has to be me…then so be it”. “Kristi obviously need’s constructive discipline”…She lacks the necessary skills of being obedient, and I will not tolerate misbehaved brats”. My social worker’s name… I found out, was Cecile. She had been affiliated with The Child Protective Services for over 6 years. She was blunt, precise and quite articulate. “Very well then”, Cecile retorted. “We predict Kristi will be in your care for another three months”. “The time frame can be subject to change at anytime”. “Please understand this is temporary, and we will decide what is best for the child at a later date”. The social worker said her farewell and left the premises.

I bowed my head in disappointment. “Another three months of hell”? Why was God punishing me? I couldn’t quite fathom another few months under the dictatorship of a monster. “Where are you brat”? Nana barked. I walked sluggishly towards her as she grabbed me firmly by the arm. “You are just a waste of my time aren’t you”? “Nobody wants you apparently, so now I am forced to deal with you… and the other shit heads around here”. I grinned. “I have a special project for you my deary…If it isn’t complete in a timely fashion; you will remove your undergarments and receive punishment”. “DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR”? “Yes Nana”. I sighed.

“Wipe that cutesy smirk off your face”…You will be educated under my expense from now on”. “You are stupider than a ton of bricks and if you are to manage in this world…you must toughen up”. “Now, I will give you some flash cards to practice your ABC’s”. She handed me a stack of index cards with printed lettering on them. Needless to say, I was acutely far more intelligent than this women had claimed about me. I had a slight quirk in my speech developement due to brain trauma. However, I did not wish to be perceived as “Stupid”. Everyone, I believed had their own level of intellect. Some learned quicker than other’s, and that was just the way things were. I struggled trying to pronounce certain letters due to my impediments. “Damn YOU”! “Stupid children will not suffice with me”.

Maybe I was stupid (Sighs). Was it really my fault…I learned slower than some? Why was a child punished for their absence of correlating words together? “Pull down your under-garments so I can teach you a lesson”. I moaned timidly, but complied. She grabbed a leather belt, and swatted me multiple times. I wailed in pain, and the sensation of the leather touching my skin burned intensely. “LEAVE ME ALONE”! I screamed. She slapped me across the face. “YOU HAVE NO AUTHORITY TO TALK BACK TO ME IN THAT SMART ALEC TONE”. I nodded…submissively.

I was intimidated by Nana. She defined my hell perfectly as if hell was an actual concrete place. My father described GOD as a fruitful spirit that inflicted pain on those that disobeyed him. I never understood what I could have caused to endure this forsaken life. “You will not talk back EVER to me”. Nana gestured with disapproval. “Go down the hallway to the bathroom and retrieve the bar of soap located on the glass holder”. I fulfilled her request and dreaded what was to come.

Good night for now, Diary.



Kristi has told her testimony to over 2,000 foster youth in 2012. She continues to inspire many with her creative writing style and chilling stories depicted by an innocence and horrid journey.

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Posted in Diary Entries
5 comments on “Deceitful Intentions
  1. micketalbot says:

    Poor child, I’m hooked, next please

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Anonymous says:

    This entry is like looking through a glass wall of which only observation can take place, often through the account as a reader you want to reach in and save the innocent and in ways punish the wicked, as a testament to exceptional writing and paste of said story it’s a stir of emotions, and I for one look forward to what’s to come.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you sooo much! I am glad your intrigued by each story I tell through my own personal experiences. It truly takes a strong soul to expose one’s past. I hope that you can gain insight through my struggles. Thank you for all the support ❤


  3. Now I get what you meant when you told me that you have been through much in your childhood! You talked so positively that it made me proud of you, my dear new friend. Just never lose that beautiful smile, nomatter what!
    And did I tell you that you write really beautiful!❤


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