After Sandstone: The Aftermath of a Traumatic Escape

Welcome back, and now let’s finish our story about what happened after Sandstone. Once I got home, I was more depressed and mentally ill than I had ever been before.

My parents kept making me take all of the medications they had given me at Sandstone, and it just made things worse. I became more withdrawn and developed an attitude where I just didn’t care about anything anymore.

I started having more issues and getting into trouble at school, always acting out as the class clown. I constantly got sent out to work in the hallway.

From the paranormal experiences in my past to this nightmare, I just couldn’t seem to catch a break at such a young age. I didn’t know where to turn or who I could talk to. I felt so completely alone.

Life After Sandstone: Overcoming Childhood Abuse and Mental Struggles

One day, I was sitting outside when I noticed a strange car that kept circling the neighborhood and driving by our house.

At first, I couldn’t tell who it was, but after seeing it a few times, I got curious and walked to the end of the driveway to get a better look. A few minutes later, the car came by again.

This time, they made a bold move and pulled right into our driveway.

My parents weren’t home yet, so I was alone, and as the car came closer, I saw Eugene’s face behind the wheel. My heart sank. I asked him what he was doing there, even though I already knew in my gut why he had come.

He lied to me, saying he was worried about me and how things went down that night at Sandstone. He said he just wanted to check on me.

From Sandstone to Freedom: My Journey Through Trauma and Recovery

But right then, my parents came around the corner. When David saw who it was, he jumped out of his truck, visibly pissed.

He started shouting threats at Eugene and stormed into the house to grab his shotgun. By the time David got back outside with the gun, Eugene had peeled out of our driveway and sped away.

My parents called the police, but without knowing Eugene’s last name, they couldn’t do anything.

A few months later, we got devastating news. Eugene had raped the other little 13-year-old girl I had shared a room with at Sandstone. I think about it often—he was going to do the same to me, but by fighting back and escaping that place, I had unknowingly saved myself.

However, it came at the cost of another innocent child who wasn’t as fortunate as I was.

Stay tuned to Sincere Scribbles for more Authentic Southern Stories like these!