Kristina Jones

Escaping the Cult: One cult, two stories of survival


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      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Born into the Children of God

       Not Without My Sister

       Moving Memoirs eNewsletter

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

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      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

       Acknowledgements

       Family Tree

       Berg’s Household

       Prologue: Ants Are Bitter

       Chapter 1: Moonlight and Star

       Chapter 2: God’s Whores

       Chapter 3: Fairytales and Thunderbolts

       Chapter 4: Dances for the King

       Chapter 5: Terror in the Shed

       Chapter 6: Candles and Confessions

       Chapter 7: Torn Apart

       Chapter 8: Ruled by Fear

       Chapter 9: From Russia with Love

       Chapter 10: Mutiny at Tea

       Chapter 11: Walking with Buffaloes

       Chapter 12: The Devil’s Land

       Chapter 13: Stirrings

       Chapter 14: A New Wine

       Chapter 15: Changing Tides

       Chapter 16: Happy New End Time

       Chapter 17: A Door Opens

       Chapter 18: A Caged Bird

       Chapter 19: The Urban Jungle

       Chapter 20: The Prince Is Dead

       Chapter 21: Reincarnation

       Chapter 22: The Woman in the Mirror

       Epilogue: Buckinghamshire, 2014

       Author’s Note

      To my co-author, Nadene Ghouri, thank you for your hard work and commitment to this project. With your help my story has been brought to life and I am glad I had someone to share this journey with.

      To my wonderful husband, thank you for encouraging me to face up to my past. Without your love I could not have found the immense happiness I feel today.

      This book is the story of my past, based on what I saw and experienced in my childhood. It was not written with malicious intent, but as part of my road to recovery. I hope that by sharing it I will help raise awareness of the long-lasting effects a cult upbringing can have on an individual.

      In order to protect the identity of my loved ones I have changed names, places and personal information.

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       Ants Are Bitter

      The hot acidic smell stung my nostrils and caught in the back of my throat.

      I badly needed to cough. I knew showing any revulsion would result in violence, so I forced myself to take short stabbing breaths through my mouth.

      Uncle