Mom and dad couldn’t afford a babysitter, so I stayed at my grandmother’s house. There was an abusive family member who had mental disorders and something called kleinfelters syndrome who would rape me, his name was Holden Price Craig. He would find me alone, minding my own business, and would force me into a closet, the basement, the woods… wherever, and just touch me in places, stick guns to my head, shove his dick in me and verbally abuse me the whole time. It started out slow. Maybe once very few months or so, but as I got older, it got worse. I couldn’t speak up about it because he had mental disorders, and who would believe me?
I lived next door to my grandmother, and when I was about 8-9ish, he started sneaking into our house at night and raping me with a flashlight, tearing up my underwear, holding his hand over my mouth so I couldn’t say anything. He threatened to kill my baby brother. He would peek through windows in the home and even my mom caught him trying to peek through our bathroom window once, so she ended up getting blinds for every window in the house. (keep in mind, at this point, she had no clue what was going on).
Then, one day I’m at my grandmother’s home and he pulls me into the basement, holds a gun to my head and has a younger cousin hold a rifle and watch guard on the door. He raped me and I made a loud noise, which was enough to alert my grandmother. She came downstairs and saw him holding me down. The younger cousin with the rifle, dropped the gun, ran upstairs and hid. She pulled us apart, grabbed me by the arm and hit me repeatedly. She then brought me upstairs, in front of several family members, and beat me with a wooden broom handle. She hit me until I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I was going to throw up and she told me ”DON’T YOU DO IT!!! IF YOU PUKE I WILL BEAT YOU HARDER.” My family members did nothing to stop her. They asked what I did, and she claimed I was misbehaving but didn’t give specifics. She told me to NEVER speak of this. She didn’t want anyone else knowing. The whole time, he’s chuckling in the background. It was raining outside that day. My mom got home from work and saw me in the floor, beaten and crying. She pulled me up and we went home. She aksed what happened and I couldn’t answer her. She had a talk with my dad that night, but they couldn’t get any information from me. It led to a nasty fight between them. Mom blaming dad for his side of the family being awful to me, him blaming her for her terrible spending habits which led to us not being able to have a real babysitter. They got violent. I hid under my bed.
Nothing came of it, though. I continued to stay at my grandmother’s house on non-school days and in the afternoons. He continued to violate me. He found a nest of baby birds and dropped this heavy metal weight on them, just to smoosh them in front of me, telling me that my brother was next if I spoke up. He killed one of my kittens by throwing a cinderblock on it. He killed another by drowning it and made me tell the family that I did it. He fucked two dogs in front of me, my grandmother’s shi’tzu and our lab. The first time he ever got in trouble with the law was the time he was found in the county horse stables, doing sexual things with a horse.
He was a tinkerer. He loved playing with guns and explosives. He loved taking cars apart and putting them back together. He liked sticking firecrackers up frogs butts just so he could watch them explode. He had dead eyes. Dark brown eyes that looked like there was no life behind them. He was diagnosed as Bipolar. He beat his own mother and she spoiled him rotten. She felt guilty that he had disorders while she was going through a divorce, so she would give him everything he wanted. The second time he got in trouble with the law was the time he beat is brother with a baseball bat over an SNES game gone wrong. His mom called my dad to help save her other son! I cried and asked my dad not to go because I was worried he was going to kill him. He ended up calling the police just in case. After that, he was forced to go into therapy and there was a grace period where it stopped for a bit.
Then one day, I was minding my own business, when he found me. He made me follow him into the woods. He stuck a gun to my head and made me bring a shovel. We walked until we came across an old blackberry bramble area. My grandmother told us to never go near that bramble because there could be snakes in there. It was ironic that he made me go there. He forcefully shoved the gun up against my head and told me to dig. He told me I was digging my own grave. He had had enough of me. I did as I was told.
About a foot into the dig, I hit a rubbermaid container. He smiled maniacally and told me to open it. Inside, were my two other missing kittens, decaying, and lying in this orangish-reddish liquid. When he saw my reaction, he burst out laughing. He picked up his gun and walked back to my grandmother’s house, laughing the whole way. I remember cuddling the container and just crying. It was my fault those kittens were dead. If I hadn’t adopted them, someone else who could’ve protected them would have.
After this happened I believe his family moved him out of Texas and to Arizona, it’s sickening to think that UC Berkeley have admitted him despite what seems to be reoccurring sexual abuse and pedophilia on his part.