Raped of Love: My Adoption Story

by Preston Jones

Overview

Preston Jones was just five years old when his mother showed him a metal box tucked away in their basement. Fueled by curiosity, little Preston secretly opened the box one day. Inside was stacks of money and two envelopes. After he opened the envelopes and questioned his mother about the contents, Preston learned a shocking truth. His entire identity was a lie.

In a poignant retelling of the events that followed the life-changing moment, Preston shares a glimpse into his world, heart, emotions, and thoughts as he became a gatekeeper of secrets and wondered who his biological mother was, why she gave him up for adoption, and whether she loved him. While detailing his real-life experiences, Preston leads others on a journey into his soul and through the eyes of an addict, a homeless person, and a lonely man as he desperately searched for his true identity and biological mother in order to mend his broken heart. Through all his struggles, Preston proves that it is possible to find the inner-strength to climb out of the darkness and into a place of peace.

Raped of Love shares the true story of one man’s quest to find the truth behind the secret of his existence after he learns he was adopted.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781546209331
Publisher:	AuthorHouse
Publication date:	09/26/2017
Pages:	126
Product dimensions:	6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 0.27(d)

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

I, Preston Jones, was born October tenth nineteen sixty two at five thirty six in the morning in Westchester, New York. I spent the first eleven months of my life in foster care, and was later adopted by Theodore Roosevelt Jones, my dad, and Mildred Elizabeth Jones, my mom.

My dad was from Harlem, in New York City and stood six foot five and weighed in at two hundred and eighty five pounds. In his younger days my father was a Sunday School Teacher. Theodore, or Ted as his friends would call him, was a very intelligent man. He was a skilled carpenter, plumber, electrician, and disciplinarian. You will realize later in this book why I mentioned disciplinarian!

My mom, Mildred was born in Suffolk, Virginia. She was a very quiet but very humble lady. She always carried a public smile but she was also a keeper of secrets. My mom was about five feet three inches and one hundred and sixty five pounds. She had a mahogany complexion, was well proportioned, with a gorgeous head of hair. Mom was very witty and although she was quiet, she had a strong character. She never allowed you in her mind or personal space. She had very few people who were in her circle of friends, five people that I knew for sure.

We lived in a newly constructed house in a town called Greenburgh. Greenburgh was a town in Westchester, New York right outside of White Plains, New York. The house was a corner property that sat high up on a hill, Forty One Lincoln Place and South Road. All of the blocks were named after Presidents, Polk, Van Buren, Tyler, etc. There at Forty One Lincoln Place in the white house with the orange shutters resided myself, Preston, my brother Wilton, my mom Mildred, and my dad Theodore. There we were known as the Jones Family.

As a child about 3 years old I remember my mom being very sick in the bed. Through my mind, my mom looked to be in excruciating pain. I felt so hurt in my heart for her because she was in so much agony, my mom put on such a facade, she still possessed strength in her weakness. I knew she had to get better, I could not cook so I searched for something to get her that would give her enough strength, just to get out of that bed. All I could find was one peanut in the shell, so I brought that peanut to her and how her eyes lit up, it was like I had given her a full course meal, from soup to potatoes. My mom smiled, came to life, and said "Thank you, Pressy!" At that moment I knew what it was like to make someone happy and to have a warm heart. There my feelings as a caretaker started to evolve.

My brother Wilton was three years older than me so as an older brother he had some influence over me. He was supposed to be my example and strength but I always, for some reason, felt a distance from him. Wilton was what they called a hyperactive child. At that time he was always destructive and distracted. He was always getting himself into mischief and trouble. For example, Wilton would take my mom's lipstick with the top on it and then turn the lipstick so it would be all squished to the top leaving the lipstick unusable. He started fires in the house, hid the car keys so we were stuck at home, disconnect the telephones, empty mom's perfume bottles, the list goes on.

As you know, being the youngest child I would get blamed for the mishaps and my brother would some how convince me to take the blame for what mischief he had done and made me swear that I would not change the story or tell our parents the truth that it was Wilton who had done these things. And so began the secrets of the gatekeeper- a kind of dark superhero. This also began the start of creative yet intense beatings from my dad Theodore, The Disciplinarian.

My beatings started with switches from the Crab Apple tree in the backyard which I had to pick myself. Then I graduated to custom cut paddles to electrical extension cords, which in turn he made me rub alcohol on my open wounds after being beat. I guess the same beatings as the slaves received at times right?

After these beatings with the extension cords, there were extremely hot baths waiting for me to take. This was and had become the norm in my house for me. Along with my emotions diminishing, my endurance for the threshold of pain increased at least in my mind. I knew that all families must have these same discipline standards, but out of fear I kept my mouth shut. I became a stronger and better gatekeeper. My secrets and wounds were deeper and my walls were getting thicker.

CHAPTER 2

Years progressed and so did my beatings which seemed to be coming more often, I would estimate pretty much weekly. I still have the faded marks from the extension cords on my inner thighs and left arm to this day. They serve as a reminder of what you might call a personal branding, branding me forever as a keeper of the gates, vowed to secrecy. So as these beating progressed and continued, it became to me a normal function of a family.

All my pain started to become internalized in my mind and introverted into my deepest thoughts and my emotions became null and void. In my mind this started the first seedlings of conflict from abnormal behaviors of love, care, and compassion. Yet, I knew what seemed to be normal in my family had to be suppressed in society and this all had to be held and locked up in my mind. I could never verbalize the pain with anyone because really this had to be my fault, otherwise, I would never had been beaten right?

As the years went by I still maintained a close relationship with my mom, for I was still a child looking for my mom's nurturing love. However, I still at that very young and tender age, could feel my thoughts and emotions for my brother and mother slowly start to diminish by the age of four or five. I started to alienate or isolate myself. First, it was mental preparation and then I would physically separate while in the midst of my family. For me I needed to function as the family did physically in body but in my mind and thought I was in another dimension, in my own Twilight Zone. So I began to learn to assimilate. In this process I still felt my mother's love but did not feel the same for my father and brother. The barrier of Plexiglas had started, invisible to all others but visible to me. To me it seemed as though, my father and brother were against me like the dynamic duo. Remember? Batman & Robin. My brother got me in trouble and my father administered the punishment.

CHAPTER 3

My parents were excellent providers for the family. There was no want materially. I remember so clearly one day around late Spring, early Summer in nineteen sixty seven, I was playing in the basement of our house, my mom came down stairs and pulled out a brown metal box and said, "Preston, if anything were to happen to your father or I, you are to find this box and open it."

My mother then showed me exactly where this metal box was hidden in the basement. This box had been hidden right there where I spent so much of my time. The basement was my world, my seclusion spot. That basement was my safe zone, my safe house, even though that was the designated spot for my beatings.

As days elapsed my curiosity got stronger and stronger as to what was in that brown metal box. The days turned into months, and finally the suspense had to be broken. I could no longer handle the anticipation of wonder, so I pulled out the box. I was about five and a half years old at the time. I slowly opened the box at the same time intently listening to see if anyone was coming down the stairs, which I could tell because the stairs had a creak in them. So while I intently listened for any creaking, I opened the box. All I saw was stacks of money, one hundred dollar bills, fifties and twenties. I would go through this money every day, it was my own dream and imaginary world. I would play with the money day after day, week after week always making sure that I placed it back in the box just as I had found it and putting the box back exactly where I had found it.

I did notice there were some other papers under the stacks of money. I knew the papers had to be placed back just a certain way because if it wasn't then I'd get the beating of my life. So far I was satisfied with all the money in front of me.

As time went on so did my curiosity. I wanted to know what were those papers that were taboo. So I removed the money and pulled the papers out and found two envelopes which of course I opened. This information was very confusing to me one envelope said Preston on it so I opened the envelope. I found a paper with a file number on it. Under the file number the content read:

'Let it be known that Rodney Snell, from this day forward shall be known as Preston Jones. Preston Jones born October 10th, 1962 at 5:36am at MT. Vernon Hospital.'

This totally confused me. I never celebrated birthdays because both my mom and dad were Jehovah's Witness, so I was already confused about the whole birthday thing. Being trained to learn to read and write from such a young age, by five I was advanced in my reading and writing skills and better comprehension than the average child my age.

CHAPTER 4

Once I opened the first envelope (Rodney Snell) Then I opened the second envelope labelled Wilton Eric Jones. "Who's this?" I asked myself once again. Once again there was a file name on the envelope which said:

'John Lewis Thomas shall hereby known as Wilton Eric Jones, shall now be the legal child of Mildred Elizabeth Jones and born February 1960.'

Immediately my mind started desperately trying to put this Scooby Doo mystery together but I could not. In my mind, I asked myself, 'How could Wilton my brother be John Lewis Thomas? Most of all how could Rodney, Rodney Snell be Preston, Preston Jones? How could Rodney and Preston be the same person and have the same date of birth October tenth?' It just didn't add up day after day and month after month, I would hurry to go back down to the basement to look back over these papers and make sure I placed everything back just so. This got the best of me and ate me alive inside. Finally I had enough, I muscled up all my nerves to bring this preserved mystery up to my mother. I was filled with anxiety, confusion, and a quest for answers. I grabbed the two envelopes and marched up the seemingly endless flight of stairs which now in my mind seemed like an unending journey. I knocked on my mothers bedroom door, it was a hot day summer day. I could see the sweltering heat rise off the hot cement as I looked up at my mother who was blankly staring out at the hazy heat from her queen lounge chair facing the window. She looked as if she had been awaiting this moment in time for me to confront her.

My mom looks down at me, half turns with a stern but wondering face and looks deep in my eyes and said, "Yes Pressy, what do you want?" I looked at her, it felt as if I had enormous lumps in my throat larger than what I had imagined frog would have, then I looked at the two envelopes and looked at my mom. Her eyes widened a bit, she said, "What have you there, Pressy?"

I looked at the envelopes so as to think maybe this should be all over and I should just return these envelopes and act like this never happened. Of course I was past the point of no return. I took a deep breath not knowing how eternally this could and would forever alter my life as I had known life to be for approximately five and half years. I looked at the envelopes one more time and as I handed them to my mother I looked directly in her large brown eyes.

My mom looked down at me with what seemed to be an expected, most deep sadness that I had ever experience. There was more pain in her eyes than when I saw her sick in bed and brought her that one peanut in the shell in order to ease her pain. My mom looked at me and then looked at the two envelopes, she gently put the contents of one of the envelopes back into the envelope and sternly told me, "Put this envelope back into the box where you found it and we'll discuss this one."

So I did just that. I journeyed back down stairs and put the one envelope back in the box and made my way back upstairs which seemed to be an unending journey to my mother. Now looking in her eyes as she stared into the envelope's contents was a heavy deep hurt that seemed to far surpass the physical pain that I had seen my mother in before. The closest description was it seemed as if she had surpassed an emotional plateau of the deepest barrier of hurt humanly possible. Looking once again deep into my mother's eyes seemed as if her eyes were holding back a flood gate of surprise and hurt, a hurt straight from the heart. I guess looking back on this, this was the hurt of a broken heart, pushed back and covered by an invisible glass like glazed barrier, which in one blink would release the weakness of emotion of unbearable pain, tears!

CHAPTER 5

So there I was looking at my mom as she desperately tried to hold back her emotions. Mom tried so hard not to blink, but that was humanly impossible. So now came the blink, one tear seemed to seep out followed by a series of single tears. Without uttering a word, she glanced at me and gently raised her hand and wiped the tears from her eyes, which now seemed to be never ending streams of emotions.

Mom then looked down at me and patted her lap, motioning me to sit on it, which I did. I put my head gently on her chest as if I were trying to listen to her heart and looked up at her face and that's when the words were spoken. Looking down a me through her swollen eyes she said, "Mommy loves you and I would go to the ends of this Earth before I give you up or let anyone try to take you from me! Do you understand me?"

"Yes mommy, I understand." I said. Then my mother paused. She looked at me and continued.

"Preston, Rodney is you! That was your name before you became my son, but all you need to know is I love you and always will and you are my son." She now lifted me off of her lap and wiped her tears off her face and as if by magic the tears stopped and all emotions changed as if this conversation never happened. Now looking at my mother's face, every past emotion had miraculously ceased like a plug in the bath tub full of water. There was not one trace of past flood emotions from just the few minutes previously. Now with a stern face my mom said, "Now Preston, go back down stairs and put this envelope back exactly the way you found it." (Note: Please don't forget the second envelope, we will be discuss that later!)

I was even more confused and devastated than before our conversation. But back then when your parents ended a conversation then that was it, no questions about it. Like I said I was even more confused and devastated and deeper in thought. I figured to myself, I should be playing with my Tonka trucks or Hot Wheel Cars, not dealing with this.

Well as you know by now, you have figured out that this is the beginning of being raped of love for me. Life had a whole new twist, my whole perception of what, in my mind of love was had changed totally. Inside, I drilled in my head that I could dare never to bring up this subject to my mom again. Looking at the pain I caused her, I could never mention this to anyone. So not only was I raped of love but started becoming a gatekeeper of secrets. Yet, I wondered where is my mother? Who is my mother? What does my mother look like? Why would my mother give me away? Did she love me? What did I do wrong that made my mother not love me and give me away?

I thought, 'So my mother is not my mother and my father is not my father and oh yeah, my brother Wilton is not my brother, then everything around me isn't real. In reality, guess what Preston? You are not Preston! Preston you are Rodney, Rodney Snell.' I sat down in the basement and wept for what seemed like an eternity. It was the first time I felt alone and rejected. I knew that I had to still explore what was in the brown metal box. I needed more answers that I thought I could only find in that box. But that would have to be another day, right then that was way over my head and very overwhelming.

Later that evening, my dad came home I dreaded hearing the key go in the keyhole for I knew that would get the beating of a lifetime for violating and going into the box.

(Continues…)

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Excerpted from "Raped of Love"
by .
Copyright © 2017 Preston Jones.
Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Introduction, ix,
Chapter 1, 1,
Chapter 2, 4,
Chapter 3, 6,
Chapter 4, 8,
Chapter 5, 11,
Chapter 6, 13,
Chapter 7 School, 16,
Chapter 8 Adolescent Years, 19,
Chapter 9 Hustle Years, 22,
Chapter 10 Hustle High, Get High, 25,
Chapter 11 White Line Blew My Mind, 28,
Chapter 12 Climax, 31,
Chapter 13, 34,
Chapter 14 Life Altering Changes, 36,
Chapter 15 Homeless, 40,
Chapter 16 Clear Mind, 42,
Chapter 17 The Search Begins, 43,
Chapter 18 The Legal Fight For My Rights, 46,
Chapter 19 Leave No Stone Unturned, 54,
Chapter 20 The Fight To Expose, 56,
Chapter 21 The Relationship, 60,
Chapter 22 The Scars, 63,
Chapter 23 Pandora's Box, 66,
Chapter 24 Pandora's Box Reopened, 69,
Chapter 25 The Search for My Father, 72,
Chapter 26 The Effects of The Opened Box, 80,
Chapter 27 Family Feud, 83,
Chapter 28 My Mom, 86,
Chapter 29 Effects of Adoption, 90,
Acknowledgements, 97,
Ending Poem by Preston, 101,
Family Photos, 103,
Links and Newspaper Articles, 113,