Sunday, June 14, 2015

Theodurk at Cross Creek Programs - Part 1

This testimony was found on Reddit. All rights goes to the original author:


So I felt like writing today. I am deciding to write about my past, about my time in a program. The programs name is Cross Creek Academy. I will write as much as I can remember about my time; my emotions, actions, relationships, struggles, etc. Ahead of time, I apologize for any spelling errors or grammar errors. I am doing this in notepad since windows 8 is utterly confusing. Hence, I do not have auto correct or grammar check. It shouldn't be too bad though. I have scored pretty high in writing.

I will start with just before my time there. The incident that created the choice for my parents to send me away. It was about two weeks after my birthday. I had been getting more and more angry and rebellious as time went on. Getting bullied in school, my dad's bad issues with hard liquor, and my step mom and her always repeating everything three thousand times. The thing about holding in anger is that it does eventually crack and break. It can slowly change who you are or in certain circumstances, the change can be instant. At the time, I was slowly losing myself; getting meaner and more violent. My step mom had asked me to fold the laundry and I didn't. So she proceded to rag on me for several minutes, which happens to annoy me since you can get the point across in 30 seconds. I flipped out on her and yelled until she started crying. My dad sees what is happening and he grabs me by the neckline and throws me into the sliding glass doors and proceeds to hold me there, borderline choking. He had done this before when he was plastered, but this time it was fair enough reaction for making his wife cry. He screamed and yelled and sent me off to my room.

I go there and lock the door as i wasn't supposed to. I knew he would still get in after removing the door knob. I sat on my bed pissed and thinking and thinking. I thought for a moment to take a block of wood in my room and hit him over the head with it, but even when I am being an idiot, I am still smart. Yet there was that thought, that brief bit of imagination. When he finally got in, he tried to grab me and throw me on the floor, but the way he grabbed be allowed me to use my legs as leverage and being a fat kid, your legs are pretty strong. He quickly caught on and grabbed my legs and flipped me off the bed and he stayed there making sure I don't go to bed until I fold the laundry. This whole mess over laundry. Teenagers for ya.

Then one day. They both go with me and say they are taking me to a doctor. I end up at a hospital where they do some blood tests. Then we move to a different facility that seemed odd to me. It didn't seem like a hospital. There was steel doors and the mesh windows. My parents did some paperwork and they took me to another building. I walked through two sets of doors and they ask me to remove my shoelaces and belt. I come to discover, they took me to a mental hospital. They did this because of a suicide threat months before when my step mom's answer had been, "ok". She knew it was an empty threat, but for me, it hurts that she didn't even attempt to fake concern. They send me way later as an "excuse". I was locked inside for a week. I med some pretty crazy druggies. A girl that decided to play a game with friends. Who ever could take the most triple c's and not die wins. She won. A guy whose pregnant girlfriend cheats on him with is best friend. He attempted suicide with opium. As I do a lot, I checked out the security and possible escape routes. I knew how to escape the place. There was a flaw in their outside area. We had 4 pm nap times. One day I calculated, without paper, how to tell time by the angle the sun is in the sky, which I later made a formula for. Depending on location and the exact angle, you can calculate the exact time, so long as you know when the sun rises. Anyways, enough of the mental hospital. My parents called and told me that I was going to a program for troubled teens. I was shown a website and it said for about 60 days. So I accepted it and figured I could use some time away. The transporters tend to come in the early morning, two if
them. It was about 4 in the morning for me. They enter through the first set of doors and I exit the second set.

They said in the cliche tough, bad ass voice, "We can do this the easy way or the hard way."

I asked, "What is the hard way?"

They reply, "handcuffs."

For a moment, I thought it would be fun to watch how people reacted as I get walked through the airport in handcuffs, but I chose the easy way. If I wanted to escape, better to have your hands.

The men themselves were not bad men. They just chose a bad job that maked them look like bad men. Some of the transporters may be sadistic asses, but mine were nice. For that, I chose not to run. I knew how and when I could, but I didn't.

After the flight, I was driven through Las Vegas, into Utah, and eventually we pulled up to an odd white building with iron meshed sold sheets covering the windows. I was led inside with my cinnibon and Dr. pepper. I never did get to finish the dr. pepper, but I did manage to keep a pack of gum.

Perhaps I will make this a brief cliff hanger of sorts. Though there is no guarantee when I get back to writing. Perhaps if I get enough requests for more, but the rest is a very long story. I stayed longer than most and one of three ever to stay past 19, which I will explain why that happened later as well. Now the next part is actually the worst I have ever been and also the most fun I had in years. Basically, the website said 60 days, the transporters said six months, and the program said something else.


Cross Creek Programs is now closed. They tried to re-start the program as a non-profit program but the arrest of an employee who had been working there for a long time for sending photos of his naked body to students stopped any future activity.

The buildings have been rented to a new organization who will operate in the market for adopted kids who were sent to their adoptive parents without the full story about their emotional issues. The horror stories will continue with new independent management and new employees.


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