Bailey ran as fast as her little four-year old legs could take her, but she couldn't outrun her attacker. He backed her into a corner with nowhere else to go and knocked her to the floor. The last thing she remembered was the side of her face hitting the hardwood.
What he did to her then should happen to no child, regardless age. She was sexually assaulted by a 200 pound man.
Her attacker was an uncle named Jack. Jack was a forty-year old retarded man. Her mother, aunt, and grandmother had left Bailey with him while they went shopping.
When the people who had so carelessly left her with an unfit baby sitter came home, they found Bailey crying and in a heap on the floor. Jack was hiding in another room like the child he was.
Bailey's great-aunt, Sarah, who was Jack's guardian, yelled for him to get into the car, and the two left immediately. Two months later Sarah placed Jack in an institution.
As for Bailey, she was not taken to a doctor, but instead treated with home remedies by her grandmother, and with time her physical ailments healed. Her emotional scars took a while longer. Fifty-four years to be exact.
After the attack had taken place, Bailey was lovingly cared for, but the it was never mentioned again. No one told her it wasn't her fault. No one asked about her feelings on the matter. People didn't talk about such things in those days. It seemed as if the atrocity never occurred. The only place it seemed to stay alive was in Bailey's soul.
So for fifty-four years Bailey carried this trauma, and she ran. She ran fast and hard from life. She remembered enough of the episode to give her panic attacks. She recalled it in dreams of running and being caught by a very large man, and she would have fleeting images of what had been done to her.
The event instilled great terror in her life to come. There was not a time she didn't feel anxious. The men she subconsciously chose in life were those that made her feel afraid. She carried guilt by the tons. She believed the incident was in some way her fault.
She never spoke of this tragedy with anyone until she was fifty-eight years old. Her anxiety was such that she sought help from a mental health facility. Finally, one day in group therapy it all came out, and it was like a dam breaking with water bursting forth. She sobbed until there were no tears left to cry.
Soon after the therapy confession, Bailey surrendered her life to Jesus Christ, and fear became of thing of the past. Her Savior took all that away when He forgave her for her sins. After a lifetime of self-destructive living, Bailey came to realize she was not at fault for what had happened fifty-four years earlier.
Christ did that for her. She was no longer that child in a corner with no way out. She was Bailey; happy, free, and at long last, on life's open road.
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