When your mother tries to kill you

1972 was not a kind year to me. I was partially grabbed off the street by a pedophile who had me halfway in the car, but my survivial instincts kicked in and I fought him like a tiger and he released my wrists and I fell tumbling backwards into the street . ( he was pulling me thru the driver's window and had me waist high in ).

That same year my not so stable and very broken mother decided for whatever tiny offense I may have committed that I should be killed for it. She took a pair of scissors and held them near my eye in a plunging position and as scary as that was, what stuck with me more over all these decades were her words ' I would kill you but you are not worth going to jail for '.

With all the screaming, yelling, cursing, beatings, etc, not a solitary person, not even the landlord downstairs who must have heard my body crash to the floor dozens of times ever called the cops or child welfare, which ironically I found myself in 1995 as a caseworker in their adoption and foster care division.