This I Believe: The Autobiography of Ellen Beacham

This I Believe: The Autobiography of Ellen Beacham This I Believe: The Autobiography of Ellen Beacham

Status: Finished

Genre: Memoir

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Memoir

Summary

My name is Ellen Elizabeth Beacham (El for short) and this is, obviously, my story. While it may not be fully considered as rated X, this autobiography may not be appropriate for some. Mine is not a pretty story, though it is completely true to my memory. Critique is most welcome.

Summary

My name is Ellen Elizabeth Beacham (El for short) and this is, obviously, my story. While it may not be fully considered as rated X, this autobiography may not be appropriate for some. Mine is not a pretty story, though it is completely true to my memory. Critique is most welcome.

Chapter6 (v.1) - The Not-So-Great Escape

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: December 05, 2012

Reads: 283

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: December 05, 2012

A A A

A A A

In my room, there were three things I knew I could get in trouble for: content on my laptop (though it was password-protected), content in my diary, and a specific book. A book that made me sick to look at, much less touch. A book that I held, hidden in my room. A book I was planning on burning. However, I knew my mother would refuse to hear any explanation I had about having this particular book. This book was one of the human anatomy books my mother owned. Specifically, it was the one used most often by Timmy to show me how sex worked. I would see it multiple times everyday, sitting in my mother's bookshelf, until I finally had enough. Fortunately for the book, my mother found it. It was the first thing I looked for when I found my room in ruins. It was gone, and I knew my mother would automatically look for the worst possible conclusion and hold me to it. She would have no difficulty destroying what was left of my world with falsehoods.
All these things stumbled through my thoughts and I made my decision to leave within five minutes. I collected a few things I knew she wouldn't hesitate to keep from me and stuffed them in my backpack. Thankfully, I already had clothes and such packed from the camping trip. I slipped out of the house and ran over to Cassie's house. She and her husband listened to my basic explanation, and tearful pledge of never returning to live in my mother's house. I called Lorianne and spent the night in her room. I was awoken to my cell phone ringing. Knowing it was my mother, and seeing that she had tried calling many times already, I shut off my phone. Hannah had already gone home, but did not know I had also spent the night with Lorianne's family.
My mother called the majority of church members, while John walked around the neighborhood looking for me. The family disliked my mother enough to hide me long enough for Cassie to come over and sneak me out. Together, we walked across town, to the home of James Harmston, the prophet. I was filled with fear of my mother or John seeing me, but we reached the prophet without incident. Cassie had called ahead of time to let the prophet know we were coming, so he knew the basics of the story. I begged him for some sort of help. I knew I could not return, not after hiding. My life was falling apart around me. I needed help.
James had often commented on my potential to be a powerful member of the church. He knew enough about my mother to dislike her, though he would never admit anything less than love for one of his followers. He knew the pain my mother caused for my older siblings. James Harmston was completely aware of the destruction my mother could cause, and yet, his only advice was to wait.
He told me that all I could do was to go back, wait until I turned 18 (which was only a month away) and somehow move out. He could not help me. No one could help me. Helping me meant going against my mother, which was something not even the prophet wanted to do. I was alone.
After we left, Cassie called up a family in the church who had let her stay with them years before. This family lived on the outskirts of town and consisted only of one elderly man, his two wives, a daughter and her children. They agreed to let me stay. I told them that in two week's time Rose and her family were going to Las Vegas for a family reunion (which was true). I also told them that my mother was considering on letting me go (also true, surprisingly). The plan that was agreed upon was as follows: I would stay with the family for week, at which point Barry (who was living in Salt Lake City) would pick me up and take me back to stay with him for a week. At that point, Rose would be coming down, pick me up and take me to Las Vegas. I told everyone, not including Barry and Rose, that after the trip to Las Vegas, I would come home and work things out. Barry and Rose knew the truth. I would go with Rose to her home in Washington. I was never returning to Manti, to the church. I was finished.

Things went as well as I could have hoped for, which wasn't much. The first day of mine being gone from home, my mother "packed" my things and required me to pick them up, else she would throw them away. I spent my last week in Manti lying to those around me, hiding from my mother, and sorting through my belongings. My mother had refused my right to take my books, so there wasn't much I was interested in keeping. In the end, I kept a duffle bag full of clothes and a medium-sized box full of random treasures of mine. The rest I left, along with a note for the family apologizing for leaving my things for them to remove. I also left a note to my mother, threatening her should anything happen to the kids, and a note or two for certain friends. At the end of the week, Barry picked me up and I left Manti for the last time.


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