Louis Capois

I finally went to the police station and filed a report against Louis. I don't think I got everything I wanted to say out. I think I did okay job. I'm stressed and exhausted. It's amazing the things you cant remember when under pressure. Basic things. But early in the morning, when no one is around...things get clearer. Here's a blog I wrote on May 28, 2008. It said my current mood was 'angry.' I must have just had a dream about him, because I wrote this, or submitted this, at 6:11am.

Louis Capois

Current mood:angry
He was my first foster father. looked liked a gorrilla. He was extra black, extra fat, and had extra yellow, widely spread teeth. He looked at us hungrily. He always looked at us funny. When I was a child, at first I thought it was admiration, then I began to think it was jealousy, for we were little gods and goddesses in the presence of wild beasts...They both stank, reeked of hatred. It was obvious that they hated life and were tired of taking in little nigger children and getting paid less than what they deserved. Fortunately for them, we were like the fucking jackpot. They got paid a lot more than other foster parents for keeping us and they got to look at something beautiful, innocent, and untainted. Not for long, though. Heh. I tried to keep the kids in the room with me. But no, it was not..."normal" for brothers and sisters our age to bathe together, or sleep in the same room together, according to policy. So that was the first transition into seperation, I guess. But I got to keep Toule. He was still just a baby and my maternal instinct made me fight to keep him with me (go figure, maternal instinct at eleven). Well, it was fine besides the fact that it was filthy, I always had to cook and clean, bathe the children, change diapers, read bedtime stories, and tuck them into bed, pick out clean clothes for the next day, and Louis...who had liked to...play. It started with a playful squeeze on my knee. Then painful ones...But for some reason, his hand went further and further up my leg everyday. I used to look at him so confused like I didn't know he was doing. And I bet he thought, these are primitive children. But I knew about men, and how "no" was never an answer, at least not in the books I read. And I knew that he could make reports, say we were bad together, have us seperated. They wouldn't let us speak to our mother. There was no salvation. So it was either me, or India and she was only like six or seven. Or, oh god! Carri, who looked like a little girl. I bet that monkey would've loved to turn my beautiful, long-haired, fair-skinned prince of a brother into a winged rectal ranger...No...So I let him, and hoped that Mommy would hurry up and come save us. Every day...It felt so wrong, you know? And who was I going to tell? The stupid social workers who put us there in there in the first place, who stole us from our mother? I had to protect my family, no matter what I had to go through. I knew that.
One day, Carri went to his friends house and didn't come home for five hours. I begged Louis to let me go find him and he told me no, that he keep his little punk ass outside all night. So I resolved to sneak out and go get my baby brother, and I was sneaking out the door, India came up behind me and said, "Please don't leave me with him." God! When I saw her face, the terrified look in her eyes, I was so scared that he hadn't stopped at me...I never asked her. But I can never forget her eyes that day. So I took her hand, and we quietly snuck outside. Hours later we eventually found Carri at his friend's. We tried to go back but Louis wouldn't let us in. So we went to my friend's house. We sat there for three hours before Stacy's dad finally threatened to call the police if he didn't let us in. Of course, Louis finally let us in. Black men...all you have to do is think "police" and they become extremely cooperative. Well, when we got inside, Carri and India immediately as I told them to do. I was following behind but apparently Louis had other ideas. He started screaming at me. I calmly told him he was wrong for letting my brother go outside without supervision, wrong for locking us out, and wrong for trying to lecture. I told him that apparently I was mature than he, a better fit parent, and had a better grasp on adulthood and responsibility means (yes, I said that, almost word for word. I read a lot). Well, guess what, folks? He didn't like that too much. He told me I was now on time out. I laughed so he pushed towards the wall. I hated people putting their hands on me, especially him, for obvious reasons, so I started crying and spun on him saying, my mother doesn't make me go on "time out" so what made him think he had the right to. I leaned and said "don't treat me like a child now...You haven't done that since I've been here." And he slammed me into the wall with such force, my god. I was in so much pain I could barely stand up. This man was at least 300 lbs. I wasn't more than 63 lbs. He told me that I would be seperated from Carri and India and Toule and that we would all be lost in the system. We would never go home. Three days later, Carri, India and I were placed in a home with John and Veronica Beasley while the black apes kept my white little brother. Go figure. I never got medical attention in foster care despite my begging and complaining because of the pain I was in. I was told that my pain was mental. Come to find out my vertebrae was twisted and I walked with a slight limp because my pelvis was so lopsided...The best part is...all of this happened, being molested and permanently crippled, in the course of 16 days. Ha.
6:11 AM

I didn't remember all of this when I was making the report. But it doesn't matter. It's all gonna come out eventually.