A Child Called It (Pelzer)
Short summary
Daly City, California, 1960s-1973. A young boy lived with his family in what initially seemed like an ideal household.
His mother gradually transformed from a loving parent into a violent abuser. She singled David out from his brothers, subjecting him to increasingly severe punishments including starvation, beatings, and psychological torture. She forced him to complete impossible chores under strict time limits, denied him food for days, made him sleep in the garage, and inflicted cruel punishments like forcing him to swallow ammonia and sit in a bathtub of cold water for hours.
She stabbed him during one incident but refused to seek medical help. David's father, a fireman, gradually withdrew from the family, unable to protect his son. At school, David stole food to survive and became an outcast. His mother told him:
You are a nobody! An It! You are nonexistent! You are a bastard child! I hate you and I wish you were dead! ... I stood motionless ... I was nothing but an 'It.'
Teachers and the school nurse eventually noticed the abuse. On March 5, 1973, the principal called police. A police officer arrived at school, interviewed David, and informed his mother that he was being taken into custody of the San Mateo Juvenile Department. As they drove away from the school, the officer told David he was free and would never be hurt by his mother again.
Detailed summary by chapters
Chapter subtitles and epilogue subtitle are editorial.
Chapter 1. The Rescue: David is removed from his abusive home
On March 5, 1973, in Daly City, California, a young boy rushed through his morning chores, desperate to finish the dishes on time. He had not eaten dinner the previous night and knew that completing his tasks quickly was his only chance for breakfast. His hands worked frantically in scalding rinse water as he heard his mother's heavy footsteps approaching down the hallway.
Before he could react, she struck him across the face, sending him toppling to the floor. He had learned through painful experience never to stand and take the hit, as she interpreted that as defiance, which meant more beatings and no food. He acted timid, nodding to her threats, silently begging to be allowed to eat.
I act timid, nodding to her threats. 'Please,' I say to myself, 'just let me eat. Hit me again, but I have to have food.' Another blow pushes my head against the tile counter top.
After finishing his chores, he received his rewardâleftover cereal from one of his brothers' bowls. He swallowed the few remaining Lucky Charms bits as quickly as possible before she could change her mind. At school that morning, the nurse examined his bruises and the scar on his stomach where his mother had stabbed him. The school principal and teachers had been documenting his injuries for some time, and that day they finally called the police.
Chapter 2. Good Times: Memories of a loving family before abuse
In the years before the abuse began, the family lived like the ideal 1960s household. The two brothers and their younger sibling enjoyed a modest two-bedroom house in Daly City, with views of the Golden Gate Bridge and San Francisco skyline on clear days. Their father worked as a fireman in San Francisco, a man of about five feet ten inches with broad shoulders and thick black eyebrows.
Their mother was a woman who glowed with love for her children. She was determined and creative, always coming up with ideas and taking command of family matters. She maintained an immaculate house, tended a beautiful flower garden, and was a gifted cook who spent hours preparing exotic meals. She took the children on educational trips to Chinatown, decorating the dining room with Chinese lanterns and serving them fortune cookies. The house was filled with petsâcats, dogs, aquariums of exotic fish, and a gopher tortoise. During holidays, she transformed the home into a wonderland of decorations, and Christmas was especially magical with an eight-foot tree and dozens of gifts. The family took camping trips to the Russian River, where they swam, climbed trees, and watched sunsets together.
Chapter 3. Bad Boy: Mothers abuse escalates with harsh punishments
The relationship between mother and son drastically changed from discipline to punishment that spiraled out of control. It began with standing in the corner, then progressed to the mirror treatment, where she forced him to smash his face against the mirror while repeating that he was a bad boy. Her behavior became increasingly erraticâshe spent entire days on the couch in her bathrobe, drinking and watching television. When his father was away at work, she made him search the house for hours looking for things she had lost. The punishments grew more severe and bizarre. She forced him to sit on his hands at the bottom of the stairs during family meals, denied him food for days, and made him sleep in the garage on an old army cot.
One day, while arguing with him, she lost her balance and a carving knife flew from her hand, stabbing him just above the stomach. She quickly bandaged the wound but refused to take him to the hospital. When he showed his father the injury, hoping for help, his father simply told him to go back and finish the dishes. The message was clearâno one would save him.
I decided that I would use any tactic I could think of to defeat Mother or to delay her from her grizzly obsession. I knew if I wanted to live, I would have to think ahead.
After the stabbing incident, he vowed never to give her the satisfaction of hearing him beg. He would use his mind to survive, buying time and thinking ahead to outsmart her deadly games. His brothers, who once played with him, now treated him as an outcast, sometimes even participating in his punishment.
Chapter 4. The Fight for Food: Desperate survival through stealing
School became his only hope of escape, but hunger consumed him. His mother rarely fed him dinner, and breakfast consisted only of leftover cereal scraps if he completed all his chores on time. At night, his stomach growled as he lay awake fantasizing about enormous hamburgers, though even in his dreams he could never taste the food. Desperate, he began stealing from classmates' lunch boxes before school started. When students discovered their missing Twinkies and desserts, they began to hate him. The principal informed his mother, which led to more beatings and less food at home.
He devised increasingly elaborate schemes to feed himself. He ran to the grocery store during lunch recess, stealing cookies and bread in the ten minutes he had before returning to school. He begged for food at neighbors' houses on his way to school, claiming he had lost his lunch box. When caught, the consequences were severe. His mother made him vomit into the toilet to check if he had stolen food, then forced him to eat the regurgitated contents. She began making him sleep under the kitchen table on newspapers next to the kitty litter box, then eventually banished him to the garage.
I existed, but there was little or no recognition. Mother had even stopped using my name; referring to me only as The Boy... I had become Motherâs slave.
In desperation, he ate scraps from the dogs' dish and garbage from the trash can. His mother anticipated this and began sprinkling ammonia in the garbage. She forced him to swallow spoonfuls of ammonia, Clorox, and dishwashing soap, then made him stand in the garage as diarrhea ran down his legs. When his father was home, he tried to sneak food to his son, but his mother's control was absolute. The boy's survival depended entirely on his ability to steal and scavenge without getting caught.
Chapter 5. The Accident: The stabbing incident and its cover-up
The summer of 1971 established the pattern for the remaining years he lived with his mother. He had not yet reached his eleventh birthday, but he knew what forms of punishment to expect. Food was a fantasyâhe rarely received breakfast, never lunch, and averaged one dinner every three days. One July evening, as he sat at the bottom of the stairs during the family dinner, his mother called him to the kitchen. She held a carving knife and threatened to kill him if he didn't finish the dishes on time. Her body began swaying back and forth, partly from her young son clinging to her leg, partly from the motion of waving the knife.
As she lost her balance, the knife flew from her hand and struck him just above the stomach. He collapsed to the floor as blood pumped from the wound. His mother quickly bandaged him but showed no remorse. She ordered him to finish the dishes within thirty minutes. When he stumbled to his father in the living room, bleeding and desperate, his father simply told him to go back and do the dishes, warning that they shouldn't do anything to upset his mother further. That night, his mother briefly showed him compassion, checking his fever and giving him water. But by morning, everything returned to normalâhe was still the family's slave.
I willed the wound to heal. Somehow I knew it would. I felt proud of myself. I imagined myself like a character in a comic book, who overcame great odds and survived.
Days later, when the wound became infected with yellowish-white pus, he cleaned it himself in the garage, stuffing a rag in his mouth to muffle his screams. He felt proud of taking care of himself, imagining he was like a superhero who overcame impossible odds.
Chapter 6. While Father Is Away: Intensified abuse after parents separate
After the stabbing, his father spent less time at home and more at work. When he was home, he helped with the evening dishes, and they talked softly about escaping together someday. But his mother put an end to even this small comfort, insisting the boy needed no help. His father began staying away on his days off, visiting for only a few minutes before leaving again. The arguments between his parents intensified, always ending with his father leaving and his mother beating the boy, blaming him for their marital problems.
His mother's punishments became more sadistic. She starved him for ten consecutive days, then played cruel games where she placed food in front of him for two minutes before snatching it away. She locked him in the bathroom with a bucket of ammonia and Clorox, the toxic fumes burning his throat and eyes as he huddled by the heating vent trying to breathe. She forced him to sit for hours in a bathtub filled with cold water, then made him sit outside in the backyard in wet clothes. She made him swallow spoonfuls of ammonia until he collapsed on the floor, unable to breathe, his father watching passively as his son nearly died.
By Christmas, his parents' marriage was over. His father packed his belongings and moved to a dingy motel near the fire station. The boy watched from the car as his father walked away, feeling both hatred and jealousyâhis father had escaped, but he had not. His mother's control was now absolute. She told him with a sneer that he was all hers now, and his father was no longer there to protect him.
I sat in the car, cursing his name over and over. I hated him so much for running out on his family. But perhaps even more, I was jealous of him, for he had escaped and I had not.
A social worker visited the house after receiving reports of abuse. His mother prepared for the visit by being kind to him for two days, feeding him and letting him play with his brothers. When the social worker asked if his mother beat him, he looked at his mother's smiling face and lied, saying she treated him pretty good. The social worker left, and his mother immediately resumed the abuse, now more confident than ever that no one would believe him.
Chapter 7. The Lords Prayer: Loss of hope and final days before rescue
About a month before he entered fifth grade, he came to believe there was no God. No just God would leave him to live like this for the rest of his life. He had totally disconnected himself from physical painâwhen his mother struck him, it was as if she were beating a rag doll. Inside, his emotions swirled between fear and intense anger, but outside he was a robot. He no longer dreamed at night or let his imagination work during the day. His soul became consumed in a black void.
He hated everything and everyoneâhis mother most of all, wishing she were dead. He hated his father for lacking the courage to rescue him. He hated his brothers, who had become his mother's accomplices. He hated the neighbors and relatives who knew but did nothing. Most of all, he hated himself for being weak, for not having the courage to stand up to her, for deserving whatever happened to him.
I felt as if I were a man on death row, not knowing when my time would come... I knew she was going to kill me, if not today, tomorrow. That day I wished Mother would have mercy and kill me quickly.
His fifth-grade teacher took a special interest in him, and when he won a school newspaper naming contest, he ran home excited to show his mother the letter of congratulations. She tore it up, screaming that he was a nobody, an It, nonexistent, a bastard child she wished were dead. At that moment, he truly believed death would be better than any prospect of happiness. He wished his mother would have mercy and kill him quickly. As his mother drove him home from McDonald's, where his brothers ate while he sat hungry in the car, he clasped his hands together, bowed his head, and whispered the Lord's Prayer, ending with the plea to be delivered from evil.
Epilogue. Sonoma County, California: Reflections on freedom and triumph
Years later, standing on the Pacific coast watching the sunset, he reflected on his survival. His dark past was behind him. He had made a promise to himself that if he came out alive, he would make something of himself and be the best person he could be. He learned to let go of his past, accepting that it was only a small fraction of his life. The challenges made him immensely strong inside, giving him a different outlook on life and a vast appreciation for things others took for granted. He discovered his purposeâto show that America was truly the land where one could come from humble beginnings to become a winner from within. Standing at the Russian River with his son, the same place where his family had vacationed in happier times, he wrapped his arms around the boy's shoulders. His son said it was his favorite place in the whole world, and tears of joy streamed down his face as he replied that it was his favorite place too. He was finally free.
I made sure I let go of my past... I knew the black hole was out there, waiting to suck me in and forever control my destinyâbut only if I let it. I took positive control over my life.