Part 2

As time went on I realised my hopes of forgetting what happened were disappearing day by day. But then it became more about the emotional abuse than the physical abuse. I changed I no longer felt like a child I felt more and more isolated. Even though deep down I knew it wasn’t right I didn’t know this wasn’t normal he used to tell me everyday he loved Me and this is what you do when you love someone.

My relationship with my mum seemed to get worse and worse as I got older. I felt like she hated me I became the person who was the adult. She had a weekly routine one she followed week in and week out. Monday night’s she went to her friends Tuesday she was working Wednesday she was at her aunties Friday and Saturday she was working she was home Thursdays and Sunday. I was conflicted on what I hated the most . Was it the days she was home? When I would hate the way she looked at me the things she said to me or was it when she was out and the abuse really started to take hold.

I wasn’t part of the family I was just there to be used and abused. By the age of 11 I was more grown up than most of my peers I cooked I cleaned I seemed to be taking care of everyone except myself . Every now and again my mum would say after tea my older brother had to wash the pots I had to dry my younger brother had to put away And my younger sister would clean the table. This would usually last 2 to 3 days a week at Max But then it would just become my job once again. Going back-to the small details I remember a time when I had to wash the pots and it was a Sunday we'd had a Sunday dinner And The last thing to wash was the Yorkshire pudding tray. I was scrubbing and scrubbing because I needed it clean so I didn’t have any harsh words thrown at me I was there for about half an hour trying to clean this darn tray my mum’s friend came in I made them a drink and got back to it. My mum done in and asked what was taking me so long when I told her she just laughed and called me stupid because it wasn’t meant to be sparkly clean. I just felt defeated.



The abuse from my step father had escalated the thing I was made to do made me throw up I used to have to lay on his bed with nothing on while he would watch porn which I was forced to watch while he did his thing. I knew he was gearing me up for something more suddenly just touching was not enough satisfaction the first time he made me put his penis in my mouth is something il never forget everything about it makes me shudder to this day.

It was on that day were I found a release. I was in the shed and I caught my arm on something sharp I felt the blood I felt a rush within me I felt alive I watched the blood flow it was a weird sensation. That night I needed to feel it again so I sneaked downstairs were I knew the Stanley knife blades were kept. As I sat there on my bed staring at the blade all I could think about was that need to feel. Without much more hesitation the corner of the blade was resting on my thigh. I slowly pushed it deeper and started pulling it across my leg seeing the skin separate and the blood beginning to stream down my leg for them few seconds I didn’t think about anything other than the pain for the first time I was in control of my pain I was in control of what was happening and that is a very addictive feeling as I soon was to find out.

The next few days all I felt was the cut it gave me something else to focus on something else to think about I hadn’t had that in such a long time. For the next few years nothing much changed I was still abused and I still cut.

That was until the day after my 15th birthday. That day took everything I had left from me. It was a night when my mother was out the clock had just turned past 9. I was laid in bed when I heard the door creak open. He walked in took my hand and led me to there bed. I felt terror like I had never felt before everything seemed somehow different from the other times but I was unsure of why. That was until he pushed me on the bed pulled down my pants and said that I had to show him that I loved him like he did me he told me if he couldn’t have me he would leave my mum. I couldn’t have that on my head I didn’t want another reason for my mum to hate me. I tried so hard to push him off but I felt the most intense pain as he forced his way inside me I struggled for a minute or 2 in till I realised it was no use I was no match for his strength. All I could focus on was a clock they had in there room the sound of the ticks was what i focused on. When it was over what he said hurt more than what he did. He said “thanks” like I had just given him a gift like I wanted that. That’s when the questions starts spinning around my mind. Why didn’t I scream? Why didn’t I fight harder? Why didn’t I just tell? I think the thing that kept me going was I thought if he was doing this to me then my sister was safe. I let it go on so she would be safe. I let it go on so my mum had a normal husband and a normal life I didn’t want to be the reason everyone else’s world’s fell apart. But what about my world? I never took that into consideration.

This happened on numerous occasions every time I counted the ticking of the clock praying the number wasn’t as high as the previous times. During this time I was doing anything so that I was in control of my pain no one else I would take tablets anything I could find around I didn’t care. I didn’t care if I lived or died.
About six months after the first time I was raped i felt strange. I was sick i was bloated and i just knew.. I knew I was pregnant. Every emotion tore me up inside I couldn’t think. What the hell do I do now!! The pills intensified I couldn’t even tell you what I was taking..

I have so much regret over what happened because I killed my baby. I awoke one night with severe pains I was bleeding I could barely breath. I sat in the bathroom. I knew deep down what was happening.. I will never forget the feeling of thinking maybe this is a good thing. Looking back now I shudder for even thinking like that but back then things were different. I always wonder what would have been. What could have been. What would have happened had I not been stupid enough too take anything I could find.

I held so many secrets some my own some were others. Everything from as far back as I can remember were secrets. I couldn't say I was being abused and raped. I couldn’t say my mum treated me like I was there just to do everything for her. I couldn’t tell that at every chance I got I would cut myself. But the worst part is that I didn’t I didn’t tell when I should gave that didn’t come until years later.