Originally Posted by Greaves

unless we KNOW who wrote those testimonies, they're valueless, except as inspirational stories.

Originally Posted by FreedomSoar

Just as the 120 "witnesses" are without names.

Originally Posted by FreedomSoar

So, where is the other 117?

Originally Posted by FreedomSoar

Why? Why would you deny these testimonies...very sad.

Originally Posted by Penhobby

Quote: I want everyone to know that what I am about to write is one of the hardest things I have ever written in my life. There are people on here that I know in my current life and from my past. The idea of my words being on here for all to see is so incredibly painful to me. That said I am so tired of dodging and fighting and than dodging again out of pain. As a dear friend recently said to me...'they meant it when they said that doing the right thing is never easy and usually hurts.

I wet my bed at HH ...only one time and the mental and physical fall out from the staff response has followed me throughout my life. I had never wet my bed before HH and I have never done it since. It happened just that once. (That is so hard for me to believe actually)

One night, in my sleep, I dreamed I was trying to hold my bladder until the BR break. We were all lined up outside the restrooms and though girls kept coming out, the line never moved. In my dream I was hurting badly in my stomach and back because I had to go so bad... and in my dream I made it in time to the restroom. Unfortunately in real life I wet the bed instead.

I woke as soon as it happened and lay there for a few moments trying to figure out what to do. No one had wet their beds while I was there to that point, but I didn't need an example to know the response would be bad. Finally I got up, because I didn't know what else to do. I was soaked through and through and so I wrapped my blanket around me and tip toed over to Sharron Sailor, who's bunk was next to mine...I didn't want to draw attention to myself, because I was mortified. I said her name several times, before she woke up and then I whispered to her what I'd done, but she couldn't hear me, so I repeated myself a little louder. “I wet my bed Ms Sailor.” She looked surprised at first and then disgusted and then she frowned and said, “Yes you did. Do you know how I know that you did?” I shook my head no. I was terrified at this point and so didn't speak. She replied “Because I can smell it and soon everyone in the dorm will be forced to smell it as well.”

Sharron was so mad, but oddly methodical, which was somewhat of a relief. I always knew pretty much what to expect from Sharron. Sometimes she surprised us, but not often. She told me I was filthy and needed to clean myself up. I nodded and started for the bathroom when she whispered my name loudly, and told me to drop the blanket on my bed and strip everything off the mattress and go put it in the washer, but not to start it yet. I nodded again to which, Arnette Bronsing said loudly from just behind me, “You were too lazy to get up and ask to go to the bathroom and now you are to lazy to speak?” Her voice carried, slowly waking up the other girls and Jennie Hoke. I just stared at her. I was not being rebellious at all I promise. I was just terrified. At HH and only at HH for some reason my fear translated sometimes into silence, well fearful silence. I couldn't speak even if I wanted and so I looked at Arnette helplessly. I remember trying very hard to answer her, but kept stumbling over my words until she gave up and pointed down at the bed. “Strip...the ...bed ...Amy” she slowed her speech down and enunciated each word. This was really embarrassing for some reason. I was shaking so bad I'm surprised I was able to stand, but I stammered out a “Yes- mam.” and reached down to pull the corner of sheets closest to me. I think this is when Sharron or Arnette noticed that I was dripping on the floor. They both started talking at once very loudly...and then Jennie Hoke shoved a few towels into my chest and literally shouted at me to wash the floor as I went into bathroom. I started sobbing at this point, something I had not allowed myself to do in front of them since first arriving, but this moment was just too shocking to my mind and I couldn't control my emotions like I normally could. I had leaned down to the floor, when Jennie pushed me on my shoulder down to my knees, telling me that I was filthy and lazy. She said I needed to crawl on the floor backwards while scrubbing with a towel before me, so I didn't miss anything. (She demonstrated while standing beside me.) I did this all the way into the shower, with staff following along with me. I could barely see anything because I was crying so hard and I kept looking behind me so I wouldn't run into anything, but I couldn't see! Every time I bumped into something one of staff would make some comment about how nasty or lazy or filthy I was. I just wanted to die. Honestly I cannot remember every detail of their comments to me and that's probably a good thing. When I made it to the shower, one of the staff reached in and turned the water on. There were I believe 5 or six showers, but only one with a tub. Jennie stopped up the tub and told me to strip everything off and soak it in the tub as I showered. Arnette had left to wake up the girls and Sharron told Jennie to go and help (I thought this a relief, because Jennie could be quite mean with her words.)

I started crying harder in embarrassment as I heard the soft movements and rustling of fabric as a few girls at a time came in to brush their teeth and hair and use the restroom. Sharron walked out of the stall and told me I had three minutes. I jumped into gear and climbed into the tub as I stripped and tried to scrub all of me and wash my hair before Sharron's pocket timer went off. I was afraid of not finishing my shower in time, but I was always afraid of that...we all were. I think this is somewhat humorous under the circumstances actually, because there wasn't much more of a humiliating punishment they could have inflicted on me at the time then what they were doing. I guess I was just so used to things being a certain way and always fearing the same things that it didn't even occur to me to take a minute longer in that shower. I finished on time and Sharron threw my uniform over the stall at me. This was unusual because in general the staff never touched us or our clothes ...unless we were being shoved somewhere. But even that was not common. I was never physically abused in the traditional sense.

I was getting dressed when I noticed I had no underwear. I somehow got up the guts to ask Sharron about it...she threw a diaper over the stall at me...well a depends I guess. They were like the training pants you see today, where you just slip them on. Mine didn't fit though, because I was fat. The minute I put them on the left side split down the middle. Sharron sighed in irritation, when I told her this. She didn't say anything really, but a moment later some duct tape( the silver tape) was handed to me under the stall door. She told me to pull off what I needed in length, long enough to wrap around my waist and then hold it under the door so she could cut it with scissors. ...So I wore a diaper.

I came out of the bathroom and the dorm was so quiet. No one was looking at anyone, well we weren't allowed to look at each other too much anyway. I wanted to die. I put gloves on and stripped my sheets as the girls filed down the hall to eat. Later I dragged the mattress out into the courtyard and scrubbed it and then towel dried it as best as I could. It was then left out there to air dry. Sharron told me that because I couldn't get my bed done in time I was going to miss breakfast. So I went back in with her and put everything on to wash and then followed Sharron into the living/eating/kitchen area and sat down in the chair against the wall, the one on the right side near the door to the patio. I was in such a state of shock it wasn't funny. I kept thinking it would get better. Jennie handed me my protein shake and walked away. I tossed it back as quickly as I could, so as not to throw it back up. (It tasted really nasty with lots of lumps that were not mixed in that well.)

At this time one of the Williams son's came down (can't remember who) with Naomi and they stood in the kitchen/living area doorway, maybe 10 to 15 feet away from me and started talking about me. The son wanted to know who had wet the bed this time...Naomi giggled just a little and then Jennie pointed over at me and said “Amy” I looked down and started crying again. Three times that day my diaper was changed. I had to take it off and then show it to a member of staff before throwing it away. Then I would tape another Depends onto myself all over again. The third time I did this Jennie was the staff who went with me and she told me that If I wasn't so lazy and slow all the time maybe those diapers would actually fit. (I am going to honest I pretty much hate this woman to this day.) That wasn't the only time Jennie picked on my weight. They all did to a degree, but Jennie seemed to enjoy it. I lost all my meals that day, not just breakfast. Fortunately though, the diaper thing only lasted that day. I did however have to take my mattress with me from that point on whenever we switched beds. But just as a side? What they did to me that day...well it worked. I never wet the bed again. I still dream about it sometimes... that I have had an accident and will wake up so scared and frightened, madly feeling about me to see if I have had another accident. Then I wake up and I am me... an adult and they can't do anything to me anymore even if I did wet my bed. I told this story because it is important to understand the emotional pain, behind the short descriptions of such treatment that you read here. And I told my story at great mental and personal cost to myself...so don't forget about what they did to me when you sign off your computer tonight, because I and other girls never forget. It is always there. These things DID happen and there is such pain and hurt left behind. Try and remember that when you see these descriptions of abuse. END QUOTE


This was just one day of my life at Hephzibah House.