Once, there were a family. The parents were quite abusive to their only son. From the day of his birth, they put him through hell. It seemed as though every time that the boy tried to tell people what was happening to him, he would only receive punishment. Once, when he was very small, he spoke up, causing the authority to come to his door. Negligent though they were, his parents coaxed him and lied to him, promised him treat and reward if he were to tell the authority that all was well. All was well. After a while, the boy began to learn that he was safer not to tell. Now, to the outside world, this family seemed picture perfect. The boy’s mama seemed a perfect example of femininity. The boy’s poppa worked good business. Nobody knew there was this sinister secret. The boy’s parents were Satanists. They were ritually abusing him and raising him for destruction. Tell though the boy may, nobody seemed to ever grow the wiser. His elderly grandfather knew about the abuse that was happening. His elderly grandfather had been trying to get the authority to help the boy for years. But since the boy’s first experience with the authority, they put a mark in his file saying that the boy had to report himself. By this time, the boy had grown so shamed and hurt that he had begun to empathize with his parents. One day, the boy went to school where he was bullied heavily. A group of peers took an especial disliking to this boy and beat him within an inch of his life. The boy was so terribly wounded that he could not move for the next year. The parents of the boy continued to abuse him following this injury. But still, everybody seemed to think that they were glorious, almost magical parents. This tore the boy’s heart and he didn’t know what to think. The parents took to the news after and became friendly with the authority because of legal work they were doing. One day, when the boy was still in a wheelchair, the parents brought him to a gathering of the local media. It was a delight for all to see him. The media made such a big deal about the parents and this boy. A member of the authority seemed very pleased with the boy’s poppa. He took the two aside and told the poppa ‘if there is ever anything I can do to help you, just say the word’. The poppa glanced down at the boy in his wheelchair and said, ‘You could have my son’s record removed.’ The member of the authority looked around nervously and then said, ‘He doesn’t have a criminal record. What do you mean?’ Poppa responded, ‘When he was younger, there were some nonsense claims, claims, which may have been recorded. These must be removed.’ The member of the authority looked down at the boy questioningly. The boy believed his poppa wanted the best for him. It was all so confusing. The boy nodded naively. ‘This would mean I would have to go through the head authority registry. I could not do this if I tried. It would mean my career.’ Poppa responded, ‘You asked what you could do. This is what you can do.’ The boy looked around whimsically. The family left that day. The abuse continued. Years later, the boy recovered enough to stand for himself. He took his complaint to the authority, not remembering all of this. There was no evidence. Additional years passed.
This story is entirely fictitious. If you think it bears resemblance to anyone’s life, maybe you are reading too much into it. Anyways, this is the reason the authority are threatened by and do not want to help this fictitious boy.
An maybe unrelated quote from my book "Whispers of Restoration":
"Afterwards, I began an investigation into what I was alleging. A couple of weeks into the investigation, my memory was sparked for me to recognize these ways in which I had also reacted as a child. Because I was wanting to be completely honest – also because I had faith that my truth would come to light, I brought forward this information of how I had reacted to the investigators after being given some poor advice. I wasn’t able to anticipate that not one of my witnesses would support me. At the end of the investigation, I left quite discouraged. The investigators even tried to encourage me to retract my statement of how I had been abused. Keep note that I never said the investigators were police. Anyways, years passed. I started going to an employment agency. I tried the employment agency because I had applied to a number of jobs and had no luck even with interviews. The agency was very solid. I loved it. I went to a number of workshops with them. After receiving counseling for polishing my resume and applying to many, many jobs, I finally got a couple of interviews. The first one, I did a spot on job in the interview but after speaking to my reference, I heard back they had gone with someone else. The other interview, one of the guys at the employment agency came with me to help on the interview. The interview went swimmingly with his help and all looked like I had secured the job. After a couple of days, I got word they had gone with someone else. I decided to part way with the agency but still did not give up. I felt motivated and applied after I had left the agency, to about fifty jobs. I got one interview. I went to this interview prepared and dressed well. The interviewer did not even ask any questions. She had me sign something and faxed it off and told me to have a good day. It is what it is. I suppose it’s not entirely fair that I have a record. As with the underhanded method used to give me a record. I suppose I knew what I got myself into when I started the investigation. All this time, I had been nurturing my faith in the Word and by going to weekly service at my old church. As I said, I had become a full member and helped out as much as I was able. I was helping out with collections at service. I will say this: I am and have always been exceptionally honest with my dealings with money in the church."
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