“BITCH”

            I can distinctively remember the day when it. It was a nice sunny day in mid August. I was sitting in the backyard in the green grass with my feet draped over a pile of rocks. Watching as water slipped over my feet sending chills down my spine. It was really a nice peaceful evening at our house, which was kind of strange. Considering there was always eight kids instigating with one another. I was simply enjoying the silence when it all began.

            It only took one word to turn this peaceful day into a catastrophe. “BITCH” that was the word that started it all. When I heard Marcus (Mom’s boyfriend) scream this word it echoed in my ears, and I thought do I really need to get up? I have heard him call her that a million times. But then I heard my seventeen-year-old brother Jake in an angry voice scream, “nobody talks to my mother that way”. I knew right than that my peaceful day was over. So I got up and started running toward Marcus and Jake.

            When I rounded the last corner almost tripping over myself I could see out of the corner of my eye Marcus and Jake standing face to face with their eyes locked on each other. As I got closer to them the tension became agonizing. It felt like at any moment they were going to rip each other guts out. When I looked into jakes eyes, trying to plead with him not to do what he was going to do, I did not see the eyes of my fun loving brother anymore I saw the eyes of a killer. A moment later Marcus started taunting Jake with the words, “BITCH, BITCH, BITCH. What are you going to do about it PUNK!” With each word Marcuse’s saliva slipped off his tongue and onto jakes face. As Jake went to wipe the saliva from his face Marcus quickly shoved him to the ground. When Jake’s body slid across the asphalt and it sounded like someone had taken a knife and was repeatedly running it against a piece old rusted metal.

            Marcus walked over to Jake’s body, which had flown ten feet away from him and said, “Hope you learned a lesson punk!” Looking at Jake, I saw he was clenching his fist and before I could think anything of this he had punched Marcus clean in the face sending him to the ground. Immediately they both got up and started tackling one another. Just watching them fight one another was so heart wrenching, this went on for about five minutes until Marcus had Jake pinned to the ground with his hands around his neck. Marcus said, “Apologize punk”. Jake said, “NO” he was always such a proud boy. I knew he would not apologize even if his life depended on it. As a result Marcus squeezed his neck harder. When Jake’s faced started turning blue it finally dawned on Mom and I that we needed to do something. We frantically looked for objects in which we could hit Marcus with. However, I was unsuccessful and had to beat home with my fist, while mom found a fire poker and started pounding at his ribs. Each time mom hit Marcus with the poker it sounded like someone had broken a stick clean in half, but Marcus would not budge one bit.

            When I looked into jakes eyes again, I did not see the eyes of a killer anymore I saw a loving brother pleading with his sister to save him. I tried to be strong but I could not because Marcus was not letting go of his neck and I thought I was going to lose my older brother at the hands on my mothers’ boyfriend. In that moment mom hit Marcus over the head so hard with the metal poker that the sound of the poker hitting his skull echoed so loudly that it impaired my hearing for a few moments. Marcus got up looking like he was about to punch mom in the face, but instead he spat on her and went over to the bus. After I was sure that Marcus was not going to attack our mother. I looked over at Jake who was coughing uncontrollably unable to get up. Yet, somehow he was able to dial 911 and tell the operator what had happened with perfect clarity.

Still not done yet...

You Kicked My Dog

You Kicked My Dog

            “YOU KICKED MY DOG!” Those were the last words I heard before a woman weighing 350 pounds ripped open the driver’s side door of our bus. When the door was fully opened I was able to get a glimpse of the woman’s face. Her eyes were blood shot; I could see puddles of sweat pouring off of her face; when she spoke she slurred her words. Before I could have another thought the woman started pounding my mom’s face in. I will never forget the sound my mother’s flesh made when the woman’s fist hit it. It sounded like someone was beating a hammer into raw meat over and over again. The next moment my mom stomped on gas-pedal, sending the bus flying forward and the passengers flying backward.

We were thousands of feet away from the woman, but before we could feel relived I heard the words, ”We are going to kill you all just wait!” When I looked out the window I saw fifteen people surrounding our bus. The sight of these people made my stomach turn. When I took my head away from the bus window I could see a puddle of sweat where my head once was. As I watched my sweat trickle down the glass window, I was able to grasp in that moment how serious the situation had become. A split second later I was startled by the venomous voices from outside screaming, “We are going to kill you all! We are going to light your bus on fire with you all inside! We are going to kill your mother, and after that we are going to tie you all to trees and starve you to death!” Every word made me feel closer to death. Before anyone could shout anything else a huge brick came flying through the driver side window—breaking the glass, and sending it flying all over the bus.

            “GET DOWN!” Those were the words that sent tears into my eyes. I knew these words meant that my mom was not sure if we would make it out of the woods alive. I reluctantly grabbed my five younger brothers and sisters and took them to the back of the bus. Now, lying on the cold vinyl floor, I could see how scared they were. My five year old sister, Bubblegum, asked me, “Are we going to see Daddy again?” When she asked me that question I knew that she did not think we were going to live through this. I looked around and saw all of my siblings lying on the floor crying. They had their hands over their heads in case someone broke another window. I felt like I was in a war zone. I thought to myself, “What if this is it? What if we are really going to die here?” I felt so bad for all of my siblings. They were so young, so innocent! How could anyone want to kill them? Suddenly I thought you have to be strong Savannah. At that moment I realized I had to get up. I had to make sure my mom was okay.

             Now trying to get up I realized that my younger siblings had me firmly anchored to the floor of the bus with their grips motivated by fear. They pleaded with me, telling not to go. I told them that I would be okay, and that nothing was going to happen to me. Nevertheless, they could hear the uncertainty in my voice. I told them that if something happened and I did not come back to run toward the woods. I told them not to turn back, no matter what they heard.

            As I approached the front of the bus I could hear my mother screaming, “I’M CALLING THE COPS! You better get the fuck out of here!” Now that I was right next to her, I could see her face clearly. The sight of it made me sick. It looked like someone had beaten it in with a large board embedded with nails. Finally taking my gaze away from my mother’s face, I looked out the window and saw the mob. They were staring right at me. When I looked into their eyes all I could see were the eyes of a bloodthirsty animal. They had become so filled with rage that they had forgotten we were just a bunch of kids. A moment later the mob began to retreat.

            Still on the phone with the cops, my mom started the bus. She told us to stay the ground and said, “Hold on, we are getting the fuck out of here”. I could not see the speedometer, but I could tell we were going pretty fast because the bus was shaking uncontrollably. Behind us, there was a storm of dust from our rapidly spinning tires. Now only seventy feet away from Front Gate, I could see the woman standing in the road. When my mom saw the woman she sped up, which sent the gargantuan lady flying out of the way. As we passed Front Gate rocks the size of golf balls came flying at our windshield. Luckily we made it through the insanity with a windshield still intact.

            Once we were a couple of miles away from the gathering and the bus had stopped, everyone sat there—stunned—staring at each other. It felt as if none of us could believe that we were still living. Out of nowhere we all began hugging each other. We were still crying, but they were no longer tears of fear. We cried tears of joy; we had made it through that insane situation alive. While we waited for the police we could not help but look down the long dusty road in fear that the mob of people might be right behind us.

A few minutes later there were nearly fifty cops standing outside of our bus. They asked my mom to describe the people who attacked us; however, she told them that she did not want to press charges. In that instant my whole body turned a deep red, and I had to clench my fists to keep myself from punching her in the face. I knew that this meant those people were getting away with attempted murder! Even after this horrifying event, our mother continued taking us to these Gatherings. That was not the first—or last—time insane people attacked us. My younger siblings still tell this story, and it always brings tears to their eyes. I can tell how traumatizing this event was for them.

At the end, fifteen people got away with seven cases of attempted murder. After this event, I decided to stop attending Rainbow Gatherings, with my mother. I would love to say that I have stopped attending Gatherings all together, But I cannot. Because somewhere in my crazy mind I think I will be able to seek justice for my family if I continue to attend these gatherings.

The children that continue to travel with my mother continue to get attacked by the Rainbow Family. However, the Gatherings are not all bad. We have learned a great many lessons from these events. I for one have learned how to lead people in the right direction in a battle, how to protect my family, and what is really important to me in life. At the end, I love the person that these events have shaped me into, and I would not have it any other way.