Not long after I was taken, Cleo had a new mission. I was left-handed. Cleo believed that my left-handedness was an outward appearance that I had evil inside me, or worse yet the devil.
The following is my first vivid memory of Cleo. 
I remember her screaming at me to stop using “the wrong hand.” Cleo became enraged that I was eating using that evil left hand. Cleo decided she was going to break me of it for good. I remember Cleo screaming out me to use the other hand to eat with. I remember this particular meal was soup. I was trying to eat with my right hand and spilled some of the soup on myself. I remember Cleo getting enraged and tying my hands behind my back and telling me to lap like a dog. She regularly told me I was an animal. Of course, trying to lap and being terrified as I was, I accidentally overturned the bowl which further infuriated Cleo. Cleo grabbed me by my bound hands and dragged me out to the front porch of the farm house where she found an old extension cord and beat me with it, until the welts started bleeding. Cleo then put me in the dark basement of the farmhouse, locking the door behind her. The only light that would come into the basement was what came from under the slit of the door. I curled up as close to that sliver of light as I could get. I would spend a lot of time in that black basement over the next several years.
After this beating, Cleo went to her silver drawer, removed a heavy handled silver knife. After this, whenever Cleo caught me reaching for something, or using my left hand she would strike my fingers with that heavy handled silver knife handle. I learned how to use my right hand, but the joke is still on her, I just became ambidextrous despite all her efforts to beat the evil out of me.
