1.1 Through a child's eyes

Through a child's eyes

Handing me a bottle of freshly shaken cider my father ordered "take this to your mother" as a child I did what my father told me to do, two tiny hands clasped tightly around one bottle of cider, I hurried it down the hallway and into the kitchen to where my mother was standing and as she opened it my eyes widened as cider burst from the bottle and all over my mother's face, I looked on through the eyes of a child my mother's face red from the sheer force. She began to cry, I couldn't console her I was 3 years old. I didn't quite understand.

Most of the time my father would scream and shout or tip the front room upside down in anger and my mother would sit there and take it, too scared to move other then quietly offer him a cup of coffee. One afternoon my father thought it would be funny to tie my mother up with cellotape, I think it started as a joke but as it went on my mother began screaming as my father tied from her ankles to her neck, it no longer became a joke. All 3 of us kids were crying begging him to stop but her ordered us upstairs. As we listened to my mother's screams we heard the front door slam, we run downstairs and began to unravel her.

I can't remember many good times but I know my father was awesome at making ice-cream milkshakes, and at Christmas we used to be offered a small bottle of beer with our dinner....but that's all I really remember.

As time passed my mother had had enough, I don't blame her, I was called into reception at school by Mrs Cox where my Mother had been waiting for me and my siblings, we were bundled into a van and told to keep our heads down, I still hadn't had my lunch and remember my princess love heart shaped lunch box. After a few hours we arrived at the refuge.

As I looked around holding my lunch box I could hear many different families all different cultures and nationalities, we went through to room where I opened my lunch box and ate my lunch.

Author's Note

First draft

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This is brilliant writing! Brava! I'm so proud of you to be able to tell this story with so much even-handed attention to details, not overly dramatic, just telling the facts of each scene & this makes your storytelling all the more powerful. When your story is this intense, you don't need to add any drama. The sparse way you convey your details is more powerful than any dramatically-told scene. I wasn't sure if this was your story, but now I feel pretty sure it is (and I'm so sorry about that!) Little by little, you reveal yourself to be the narrator of this story, which happens in a perfectly-fitting way (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[lightsong]

there are deep wounds and bruises here, a pain my heart doesn't even want to think of, though I must say that Your mother was brave enough to stop it, because many falls into the weakness and fear not being able to pull themselves up from situations like this, maybe as a mother, her love for You, her children what gave her the courage eventually.