To Know A Fallen Angel: Understanding the Mind of a Sexual Predator

Bernard Amador

Description

To Know A Fallen Angel is a coming of age story about a boy who tries not to become a sexual predator. Based on a true story, it is serious yet inspirational. The main theme is the ability to triumph over the lasting effects of sexual abuse. The story explains what happened to the mind of a sexually abused child, while taking the reader on an expedition through the mind of a sexual predator. The book gives the reader insight into the reality of sexual abuse, and the mind of a sexual predator.

Sujets

• Vie de famille
• Soutien psychologique et conseils familiaux
• Sexualité
• sexualité
• Sexualité
• Psychology
• Sociologie, société et politique
• Forensic Psychology

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 19 mars 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781456614898
• Langue: English

Extrait

To Know Å Fallen Angel:
Understanding the Mind of a Sexual Predator
by
Bernard Amador
This book is a work of n on-fiction. Names of people and places have been changed to protect their privacy.
© 2009, 2004 Bernard Amador
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
First edition published in paperback in 2004 by AuthorHous e (ISBN 978-1418498221 )
Second edition published in paperback in 2009 by CreateSpace (ISBN 978-1442152847 )
Library of Congress Control Number: 2004096899 (AuthorHouse edition)
Even though this is a true story and the author has endeavored to be accurate, the names of people and places have been changed.
“And the fifth angel blew his trumpet, and I saw a star that had fallen from heaven to earth.”
Revelations 9:1
For
Johnny
Bunny
And
Bill
Table of Contents



What’s In A Name?
Prologue
Chapter I: The Desire to Know
Chapter II: Method to the Madness
Chapter III: Developing a System
Chapter IV: Man as Machine
Chapter V: Refining Automaton
Chapter VI: The Fallacy of Man
Chapter VII: The Golden Soul
Chapter VIII: A Spiritual Universe
Chapter IX: Cosmic Code/Soul of God
Chapter X: An Angel Gets its Wings
Epilogue
References
About the Author
What’s In A Name?
Ma - Mother
Pa -F ather
Michael - Who is like God
Douglas - Dark
Levi - He who unites
Catherine - Purity
Christopher - Bearer of Christ
Gabriel - Man of God
Eva - Life
Hannah - Grace
Uriel - Light of God
Ruth - Companion
Benjamin - Son of the right hand
Melissa - Bee
Flora - Flower
Jerome - Holy name
Andrew - Manly
Jason - Healer
Patrick - Aristocrat
Colin - Dove
Rachelle -L amb
Rochelle - Stone
Roxana - Dawn of Day
Theresa - She who reaps
Lyle - Of the Island
Angela - Messenger
Jennifer - One who loves peace
Cathy - Pure
Robert - One with bright fame
Ari - Lion
Joseph - God will increase
Prologue
T o Know Å Fallen Angel: Understanding the mind of a Sexual Predator is the true coming of age story of how a young boy tries not to become a sexual predator. Michael is a child who grows up in the heart of the poverty stricken South Bronx in an apartment filled with sexual abuse, and incest fueled by alcoholism and domestic violence. As the story unfolds, the sexual abuse Michael experiences results in a misunderstanding between father and son that separates them emotionally and leaves the boy with a desire to know what it would be like to have a “normal” relationship with his father. It also leads to the development of sexual predatory behaviors in Michael.
Michael escapes from the abusive household by using school as a refuge to protect him, and manages to preserve a balanced morality until the abuse becomes overwhelming and penetrates him physically and mentally. Michael tries to create a barrier in his mind between himself and the abuse but instead he experiences a mental breakdown. As he grows older, Michael embarks on a quest to understand his abuser and his developing self. Motivated by the desire to know the roots of his sexual abuse, Michael uses genealogical therapy to trace the events of his youth. Along the way he discovers a typology of the sexual predator, and identifies different types of sexual predators by classifying their methods, motivation and victimology.
By identifying the type of predator that abused him, Michael discovers how he himself developed sexual predatory behaviors and ultimately understands how the mind of one type of sexual predator functions. With the identification of the root source of his sexual abuse, the motivations behind it and the victimology, the specific type of sexual predator is caught in the nominological net. By understanding what has prevented him from perpetuating the same abuse on others Michael discovers possible treatment methods for the sexual predator, one of the most difficult criminals to treat. In the end Michael triumphs over his abuse, the urge to perpetuate it, and reconciles with his father to develop a relationship that was once lost.
Chapter I:
The Desire to Know
I t was like a whisper that lands upon one’s eardrum but instead it was softly pressing against my lower back. I lay on the bed in my Fruit of the Looms with the white elastic and the fine blue stripe; as the pressing got stronger and stronger, I felt myself gain consciousness from a deep sleep gasping for air. As I opened my eyes I could feel a final thrust and a warm liquid substance land on my back. The room was cooled by the gentle wind blowing past the sound of fluttering curtains hanging from the open window near the bed.
There were arms above my shoulders and the smell of sweat wafting past my face turned to the side, as I lay there still and stiff. Oh so gently did a soft fabric wipe the warm liquid off my back and I see a cotton T-shirt drop out of a hand on to the floor beside the bed. The activity caused my body to tremble for I did not understand what was happening. The lace curtained French doors of the den were open before me as I lifted my head. A radio advertisement for Bold laundry detergent came from another room in the apartment and faded as a figure disappeared through the doors taking my innocence with it.
As I pushed upwards on my hands, I saw a Miller High Life sign displayed across the top shelf above the French doors. In front of the sign was an old rotating ironing machine. I rose from the single bed and moved closer to the doors, slowly turning the knob of the French door and entering the living room, afraid of what might be in the next room. The figure was not there and as I passed through the living room and entered the hallway, the memory ends.
This is the earliest memory I have of it. My desire to know about the event was developing, but I did not know at the time what it all meant. When I recall the memory I feel like I am dreaming. Remembering my childhood physically puts me in a dream state, a condition therapists call dissociation. Sometimes the memories are triggered by the least little thing and return to me in a flash when I least expect them. When they do, it feels like a revelation that helps me understand my life.
The memories usually take me back to the year 1973, when I developed a fascination for what was between my father’s legs. I had learned at an early age that my father had something between his legs I wanted to see, to touch, and to know. Little did I realize the desire to know would be pressed upon my mind for years to come. Where my dream-like memory ends, my conscious memory fills in the blanks.
Every morning as a child I took the same route, out of the French doors through the living room past my parent’s bedroom on the way to the kitchen. There my mother sat sipping her morning coffee. When she spotted me the morning routine began.
“Good morning,” she said to me daily.
“Good morning, Ma,” I’d say as she took my hand and led me into the bathroom next door.
The cold bathroom tiles made the lower part of my body shiver and woke me up while my face was in the mist of steam from the bath my father had just taken. She reached above the sink, and pulled out my blue toothbrush from the rest of the bunch hanging in the rack and handed it to me. As I held my toothbrush she squeezed about a fourth of an inch of toothpaste on it and instructed me to brush.
“Don’t forget to brush your tongue,” she said as she turned around and headed back into the kitchen to finish her coffee.
When I returned to the kitchen she had a bowl of corn flakes waiting for me on the table. On warm days she had cold cereal for me to eat. On cold days she prepared a hot bowl of oatmeal or cornmeal. Yellow cornmeal was my favorite. After breakfast my mother led me back down the hallway to the living room where she sat me down in front of the television and put on my favorite shows. Mornings for the first five years of my life were spent in front of the television and running around the seven-room apartment while my older brothers and sisters were already out of the apartment attending school.
As I sat watching the screen, my mother passed by often going in and out of every bedroom doing housework. The beds were the first things she tackled, and then she searched through large laundry bags to separate the colors from the whites. If the sheets on the bed were dirty, they became part of the daily laundry to be washed. Load after load she washed. After washing she took the wet clothes in a large bundle and set them out to dry. The apartment had a clothes line that extended from my older sisters Uriel and Ruth’s bedroom window, at the end of the apartment near the front door, to my parents’ bedroom window. The clothes line passed Hannah’s window, the bathroom window, and kitchen window before it reached my parents’ bedroom.
Hannah was the oldest sister living with us. She acted just like Ma and always kept behind the rest of the children in the family to make sure we were doing the right thing and not getting into any trouble. She was the role model for the girls in the family and set the example by doing well in school. Hannah helped get the girls ready for school in the morning by brushing their hair or consulting with Ma about which outfit her sisters were to wear for the day. She was being reared to be a true matriarch.
Hannah physically looked like a matriarch, strong with a heavy build. Her strong, rough edge was framed by soft white skin and long ash brown hair that flowed down her face over her shoulders and past her buttocks. Her soft speech contrasted her frame, but her words were as intelligent and strong as the time she spent learning them. She was a conformist and was being molded to have a traditional family life ruled by a matriarch.
Uriel on the other hand was a rebel. The darkness of her skin and hair gave her a shield o