My husband brings me into the living room and pulls out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket.
The black and white mug shot printed on the paper brought a flood of memories and emotions and pain.
I felt panicked. I wanted to cry.
I couldn't believe what I was looking at. The words printed on the paper were too unreal and yet a little too real.
Sexually. Violent. Offender.
Female, 10 Years.
Reported Address: 5 houses from our home.
FIVE. HOUSES.
A Piece-of-Shit-Lowlife-Child-Molesting-Level 2 Sex Offender has moved into our neighborhood.
My sense of security and personal safety crushed. I wanted to run. Pick up the kids and run far away from here.
I was disgusted to think that someone like He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was now living near me. Near my kids. I felt violated all over again.
We need to talk to The Boy about this. I've already spoken with Cinderella and showed her his picture.
There's a bad man who lives up the block from us. This man did horrible things to a little girl and we dont' want you to go anywhere near him. We dont' want him to hurt you the way he hurt her. This is what he looks like. He drives a black jeep.
We show him the print out from the National Sex Offender Registry. Make him look at this man's picture. He's 68 years old. Blue eyes, white hair and beard. Looks like a goddamn grandfather. Like Santa, according to Cinderella.
Ok, Mommy. That picture is freaking me out. I don't want to look at it anymore.
The Boy is visibly disturbed by the
It's b/c of people like him and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named that I obsessively monitorthe view count for my videos on YouTube and ViMeo and why I had to make one of The Mouse in the bath private. Fucking perverts. Go get a labotomy and crawl into a hole and leave us alone ... Mmmm, kay?
National Sex Offender Public Registry
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