Page 16 - Trapped in a Diamond

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Trapped in a Diamond
I were taking a ride in a carousel. This was such a contrast to what hap-
pened next.
Several hours later, (when I had been found bymy uncle and the police) -
I was returned home. After my uncle and the police left our house, my
father started to beat me while asking me questions I could not answer
and demanding information I could not give. He wanted to know if I
had been touched in certain ways. When I answered no, or said some-
thing else he didn’t want to hear, he continued to beat me. I was very
confused, so I said no to everything and never disclosed that my ab-
ductor had touched my bum while lifting me from the bicycle bar to
prevent me from falling. In my innocence, I knew that disclosure might
have been interpreted differently, and I would have received more beat-
ings from my father.
I was in shock. I had no idea what I had done wrong. I did, however,
understand what I clearly saw in my father’s eyes: his hatred for me. I
knew then, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I was no longer his little
girl. My mother tried to stop him, but she was unsuccessful and maybe
a bit afraid of him as well. She told me that when my father got really
upset, he was not able to control his fury. Many times during my young
life, I witnessed him being that way with my brother and I. At that time
in Italy, it was not a crime to beat your children; it was the most com-
mon method of discipline.
I remember exchanging bedrooms with my brother. His room was next
to my parents’ bedroom. I was having nightmares every night. I remem-
ber that period of time and the nightmares very well. I would dream
about being asleep in bed, when a gypsy would quietly come into the
room, sit on my bed, and watch me for a while before covering my face,
wrapping me inside my blanket, and taking me away. I would wake up