I do not know what I’ve done to my pages but they may seem a bit muddled up. Either that or I’ve not worked this out yet ha! My Story goes in order from (1) (2)(3) etc so please just click the relevant page.
Thank you ❤
I do not know what I’ve done to my pages but they may seem a bit muddled up. Either that or I’ve not worked this out yet ha! My Story goes in order from (1) (2)(3) etc so please just click the relevant page.
Thank you ❤
Whilst I lived in the house from hell, I started a new School. I joined a class room of children, who had already started the school year together. I liked school from a early age. I think it was more of an escape if anything, from everything that was going on at home.
In school I was treated like a queen, well I thought I was. It’s only now that I realise I wasn’t, I was just treated just as every other pupil was but I wasn’t use to adults being nice. I didn’t get abused at school, the adults were nice and I got fed. This is a completely different life to what I had lived at home and I was so confused.
One time, a teacher had to raise her voice to discipline another child. Before I knew It, I was up in the corner of the room, facing the wall with my fingers on my lips. The other children didn’t laugh, they were too young to notice what I was doing. My teacher came over to me, asked what I was doing and all I said to her was “you shouted”, she never questioned me and sat me back down.
I was overwhelmed with the choices for Dinner at school. There were many times that I didn’t know what I was asking for and would just point at whatever was in front of me. Even if it meant I didn’t know what it was or didn’t end up liking it. I appreciated every morsel of food I was giving as I knew I’d get nothing at home.
As a parent, I remember the amount of birthday party invitations my Son received when he was five. In the first few years of him starting school, he got invited to nearly everybody’s parties, there was almost one every couple of weeks! He would come home on school days, with sweets from friends, party invitations and even party bags.
When I was that age, children still had parties and gave out invitations and sweets to celebrate with their friends. The only time I got given a sweet was when the teacher took charge and handed them out. I never got given a party invitaion to anybody’s party. That would probably have had something to do with their parents though!
When children brought in party bags, sweets etc. They had to leave them in the cloak room with our coats and bags. Anybody could get in this room, it was always open. I would sneak into this room alone and search the party bags for stuff like cake and anything sweet. I did this more than once but the teachers soon realised, when the children would be in tears with half eaten party bags to hand out!
Children who were on packed lunches kept their food, in the same room at their pegs. I often found myself searching through them, desperately to find anything to fill the pain I had in my stomach from hunger. This mainly happened towards the begining of the week, probably because I was starving from having very little at the weekend. I got caught for stealing from the party bags and lunch boxes, but I never seemed to get shouted at, that I never understood.
At break times we were given little glass bottles of milk, with a blue straw. It was one of the most horriblest things I had ever tasted. It had a thick lump of white stuff on the top and it made me sick. There was nothing actually wrong with the milk, it was just where the milk had settled but I just didn’t like it. I didn’t drink milk at home so wasn’t use to the taste of It, let alone the consistency of the cream at the top. All the milk would be sat in plastic crates, waiting for us to get them at break. By the time we got given them they would be warm and sometimes have a funny taste and smell. I still cant drink milk to this day!
When I had “Mrs D’ as a teacher, I remember feeling more safe than I ever had done before. I loved being in her class and she always had time for me. I think the other teachers and Mrs D, must have realised that things weren’t “OK”, due to the lack of punishments I was given and the way they looked after me. I was always extremely tired in class and I would fall asleep often. Mrs D had a little quiet area which had cushions in and a little curtain attatched, so that it could be pulled across for privacy. I was allowed quiet time after Dinner and Mrs D would get me comfortable and let me sleep for a while. I loved these times even though all I did was sleep. I felt safe and I didn’t have to worry about any monsters disturbing me, like they would at home.
My sisters and I would walk to school alone. It took us about fifteen minutes but we always had time to spare as we would leave early. One morning we were walking up the main road to school and Grace told us we were going to the shop first. We entered and Grace pulled out one single note from her pocket. She told us that we could get whatever we wanted to, so of course me and Cara ran around just grabbing whatever we could manage in our small hands. In the end, Grace helped me because she wanted all the money spent and we still had to get to school. The three of us left with the biggest bag of goodies I had ever seen! We continued the journey to school, loaded with 1 single bag each, full to the top of chocolate, crisps and sweets. My sisters were in the junior part of school and that was a separate building to mine. They went their way and I went mine. I innocently hung the bag of goodies up, along with anything else I had and went to my class.
Not long after, the head teacher came and I got called to her office. In there already were my sisters, a teacher from their building and our 3 bags of snacks! My sisters had been questioned about where they got the stuff from and Grace confessed to stealing a twenty pound note from “his” coat pocket. The bags were tool from us and we were all took back to our classes.
Each afternoon after school, we walked home alone. Sometimes nobody was home so we had to let ourselves in. To be able to do this i remember being given a key. I had a long piece of red string with the key attatched, around my neck and hidden under my school shirt.
When we returned from school that afternoon, The door was open and Mother and him were stood at the entrance. They both looked mad but “he” looked a hell lot angrier. We got told to go straight to our rooms, the front door banged shut and we were followed upstairs. We got given the biggest shouting at ever. It didn’t matter who it was that took the money, we all got told the same. That night, “he” gave us the biggest beating. He was stood near my bedroom door, started to undo his belt and walked over to me. It was a leather belt and had a really heavy metal opening on it. He whipped me till I was shaking in pain and told me that’s what happens to bad little girls who steal. He then went and did the same to my sisters, whilst Mother watched, laughing that horrible laugh of hers because her children were being hurt. That was just one of the many sick ways in which she seemed to get a buzz from life!
School was my favorite place when I was a little girl. It was the only escape that I had, it was the only place I was treated like a child should be. I would cry on the days that we’d be breaking up for a holiday. It wasn’t fair that I had go home to face days/weeks of hell, I would count down the days till school would reopen.
If it wasn’t for school and the teachers who treated me like a human being, I think I’d be so different today. If I didn’t have that escape place, I think life would have been so much harder. I’m just glad that I was fortunate enough to have such understanding teachers. I didn’t know it back then but I now realise that if it wasn’t for them, I’d have probably remained living in that hell house for much longer than I did. I have a lot to thank them for, they pretty much helped save my life.
The last couple of days I have been faced with so many intense and overwhelming feelings. I seriously felt like deleting everything and quitting, but something stopped me. I reminded myself why I was doing this and just took a step back.
I had a break and some me time but then spent quite a while at the ‘why me’ stage, feeling sorry for myself. Something worked though because I got past it. However, whilst I was having some me time and thinking rationally ( not an often occurrence) i decided that i’m not just going to write my story, but blog about other things that mean something to me as well.
Not only does it give me a way to express myself but it gives me a distraction from doing my story, when I’m finding things are getting too difficult.
Thank you to everybody who is following my story. I appreciate absolutely everything you have done and continue doing, to help share my experiences. You have all been amazing!
I lived in that house for almost three years, from aged five, till six weeks before my eighth birthday. From when we moved into that place, it’s like everything bad that happened, had gone on from the start of us being there. I remember the year before Mother got pregnant and the time after, I just can’t place anything into any specific order.
There aren’t many much nice memories from living in that “home”. The rare occasion that she did invite me to spend time with her, you wouldn’t quite imagine a Mother and her child doing, but it was a hell lot better than everything else that was going on.
Mother was quite creative and spent a lot of time colouring and making patterns from stuff. One of my “treats” was to sit with her and sharpen pencil crayons. It was one of those proper sharpeners, the heavy metal silver ones. I had to sit and slowly sharpen the pencils, trying my hardest not to break the shavings. These would then be used by Mother to design her own little work of art with! I would be there for the whole of the evening sharpening away. After doing that for hours, I would end up in pain with blisters appearing on the inside of my fingers from where the metal had been rubbing. No matter how much I appeared to be uncomfortable to Mother, It went unnoticed. All those hours of pain, just for her crappy little pieces of art!
Another “treat” of Mothers was to let me sit and watch late night TV with her and my big sisters. The choice of programmes/films we watched were not exactly child friendly, but it was better than nothing. The three things that I watched, that stuck in my mind were 1/ Prisoner Cell Block H. I remember clearly a scene where one of the lady inmates had hung herself in her cell, I can picture it still to this day. However I had no feelings surrounding that. I don’t think I would have even been aware of what was going on. 2/ ET, Now I do not know why but this made me absolutely break my heart. I think it must have had something to do with the relationship between Elliot and ET. I can still feel the huge ache inside my stomach from when ET had to go, right towards the end where they had to say goodbye. If you’ve seen and remember the film then you will know what I mean but the “I’ll be right here” part where ET says it to Elliot and touches him on his head, it gets me everytime. Mother knew this really upset me but she got a kick out of seeing me sad. She would replay that end bit over and over again, to make me relive it all. Everytime I cried she would laugh and the more I cried, the more she laughed. Eventually I taught myself not to cry, nobody was there to listen to me anyway, I may as well have been invisible. The third thing I remember watching, was all the different Child’s Play films. All I recall though was that he was a bad doll and my sisters thought he was hilarious!
Throughout these little “treat nights”, Mother and him would be sat drinking alcohol. The place stank of Woodpecker Cider and they were never short on cans of the stuff. On more than one occasion Mother gave me and my sisters cans of Cider and told us to drink it. It tasted revolting but I had to drink it all, otherwise I’d be disobeying her and I knew better. It made me feel fuzzy and i would end up slumped in a chair with the room spinning around me. Also on these nights I was shown how to smoke cigarettes, I was five years old! Mother would get so mad if I coughed and slapped me on my face each time. I really did try not to cough/choke but I could never do it properly. Whilst these nights went on, “he” would be sat in “his” chair with a thick cloud of smoke around him, sniggering at whatever unpleasant things were taking place. He had a vinyl record player and would have a certain song on repeat over & over! Those nights always ended up terrifying , even more so when they’d been drinking. I knew that they would end the same each time, as they always did but I was never prepared for it, no matter how many times it had happened previously.
“He” would take me to bed those nights. The majority of the time he would have to carry me, because I was unknowingly drunk! Other times I’d half hobble to my room and into bed.
Whatever state anybody was in on those particular nights, it was the same thing each time. It would be tv, alcohol and cigarettes then bed. I can’t remember always getting into bed, I don’t remember getting changed, I just knew I always ended up there one way or the other. One thing for sure though, I was never there alone. “He” would be sat on my bed with that “look” on his face. Those nights were the worst, I couldn’t do anything about it if I wanted to, I was lifeless from the cider and he had full control over me. He did whatever sick and twisted things he wanted to, not bothered in the slightest of how much I begged him to stop. These “film nights” always ended up with me being sexually abused and crying myself to sleep, alone. When my sisters were around, I didn’t cry, I always cried alone because of how much I was mocked for it by Mother. There was nobody to hear me cry, nobody cared anyway. I don’t even know where my sisters were at those times as i was always asleep by the time they’d come to bed. I was left, alone with nothing but the smell of smoke and his rancid breath all over me, I had never felt so lonely.
Memories of moving into this new house are gone. I don’t remember anything about us entering the place. It felt as if I’d been in that house my whole life when I look back. Me and my big sisters shared a room, my little sister was in a room of her own and Mother & him shared. Something had changed with the “adults” since moving. They weren’t nice in the first place but they got worse than they were. We weren’t spoke to, we were shouted at. If we spoke when we weren’t asked to we’d get some sort or physical punishment, then have to have time out on the stairs, facing the wall with our fingers on our lips. We were constantly told that children were meant to be seen and not heard, soon enough it had kicked in and I obeyed. Still, even when I tried my best to be quiet, I still found myself stood at the stairs.
My big sisters were much more louder than me. They took more risks but I suppose that’s because they were twins. If one of them did something, then the other had to out do the other in some way. I’d say I had the strongest relationship with Grace. She looked after me a lot, was always there and I actually have a lot of nice memories, from the time we spent together, The bond that we have now is lovely. I will refer to her twin as “Cara”. Cara hated me a child, Still to this day we have a very rocky relationship. Years ago when Cara and I were talking about the past, she told me why she hated me so much when I was little. It was because she had to watch me be fed when I was a baby and at that stage she was a toddler, so had to look after herself. I understand how she must have felt because I had to watch my little sister being fed, having her bottles and being bounced about. However, I never held that against her. Cara told me that she would steal my bottles from me when I was a baby. She would drink my milk sneakily then leave me with nothing. When she told me, she was laughing. I don’t know if It was a nervous laugh or if she truly meant it. Either way, to this day she still hates me. I do not think that will ever change.
Me and my Sisters would still have to look for food. Mother put a lock on the fridge as that was “their” fridge. Just as when we lived down South, we weren’t liked by the people on the street. Neighbours would give us strange looks and they told their children, not to play with us. Some of the older children were so cruel. They would spit chewed up biscuits out onto the pavement. Me and my sisters would fall to the ground and gather up as many crumbs as possible. We were starving and jumped at every possibility we could, to get something to eat. The children would stand there with us at their feet, laughing away at our attempt to survive!
Me and Grace would walk all over the town that we lived in. I was around 5, she was 7. I don’t recall spending much time with Cara, I did most of my exploring with Grace.
Grace was such a dare devil and I just followed in her foot steps when we were together. One day she grabbed a crate of Apple’s from a fruit stall and shouted “run”, so I did untill she told me to stop. We had stopped on a bridge that had a canal underneath. We both leaned over it in fits of giggles. It was the kind or laughter that makes your belly ache, uncontrollable laughter. We both ate as many as we possibly could. Apple’s appeared to be all over the place, there were so many! With the spare ones, we gathered then all up into the crate and stood at the bridge, throwing them into the canal. We knew better than to take any home. This was a good day and I went to sleep happy that night, belly filled with Apple’s and a smile on my face.
Round the corner from where we lived, there was a big grassy area. Grace took me there one day and told me there was treasure. We would dig with twigs, anything to get the mud up. We actually did find treasure, well in our little innocent minds we had. We found tons of broken up bits of pot, like broken plates. I didn’t no what it was then but we kept it such a big secret because I really did think it was like the crown jewels! This was one of my favourite places. We couldn’t go there a lot as people would see us and we couldn’t let them find our treasure.
Mother use to always send us to the shops, to get whatever it is they needed. One particular afternoon, both my sisters and I went together. We were given a ten pound note, Grace looked after it. On the way to the shops we walked along the railway tracks. Me and my sisters would always mess about on them. We would play “chicken” across the railway tracks. How on earth we are all still alive today, I do not know. It was very stupid of us, but we were children with no boundaries and were use to doing whatever we wanted to.We weren’t taught the difference between right and wrong. That afternoon as we were almost near the shops, Grace told us that she had lost the money. We went back and searched the train tracks but could not find it. So we all decided to go to the police station and explain. We told the police that we’d been sent to the shop, lost the money and were scared to go home. They asked us why and I remember telling them because we’d get hurt. The police were sympathetic enough but I don’t think they believed us. However, we were given these fruity chewy sweets, I remember it so clearly and I was so thankful. Little acts of kindness didn’t occur much for me back then, so i really noticed the small things. The police took me and my sisters home, I was petrified. We went straight into the house and the police followed. Mother was already up on her feet at the oven and that nasty vile man was sat watching tv. All of a sudden Mother came over and he stood up. The police explained what had happened and told them that we were too scared to come home. They also asked Mother and him if they knew why we were so afraid. Mother told them we had very wild imaginations and walked over to the oven laughing. She had been making beans and there were jacket potatoes on the side. They smelt delicious and I could smell the butter melting in them. Three plates were put up onto the side and she dished up jacket potato and beans on them all and told us to sit down. I knew better than to question her but wow, I was so confused! I followed my sisters to the table and as they sat demolishing their food, I sat and picked at mine. The police left and by that point, my sisters had finished their meals. As soon as the police were out of sight we got the biggest shouting at ever! Not only did we bring the police to the house, but we’d lost the money and she had wasted “their” Dinner on us just to play an act for the police. Previous to this anyway we got physical punishments but the beatings that we got that night were horrendous. It was the first time ‘he’ used his belt to whip us. I had never felt pain as bad as this before. As a little girl I had always cried to myself, silently. That night I sobbed myself to sleep, I didn’t care anymore if I was heard.
From the time “he” had started to punish me with his belt, that’s when things appeared to get worse. Not just with “him” but Mother as well.
When I was 5, Mother found out she was pregnant with my little Brother. This should have been a happy time for any big sister, but all it did was turn Mother against us even more.
Our punishments were soon to get a lot worse. It’s not stuff I could have even prepared myself for.
All I could here from inside the van, was sounds of cars passing by. It felt like I had been inside, tied up and frightened for much longer than I’d probably been there. It was pitch black, absolutely freezing and It was raining heavily. I knew because I could hear the sound of the rain falling on the roof. It sounded like stones being thrown at windows but I found it quite comforting. I lay there and inside my head I counted as many drops I could hear fall, eventually I fell asleep. Sooner or later, I woke. The van was still, everybody appeared to be asleep and my siblings and I, were still tied down. I wondered where we could be and what was going on. I drifted off back to sleep, anxious and scared. I didn’t even have the rain drops to count myself to sleep as it had stopped raining.
I woke to the sound of my big sisters talking and noise coming from outside. All of a sudden the side door opened and somebody got in. We couldn’t see as at this point, we were still tied down with those bungee cables and surrounded by quickly rescued furniture from our old house. I heard a voice and it was his, that vile monster, my little sisters Father. He came and untied us from the cables and told us to get out the van. My Mother was already outside with my little Sister who was drinking from a bottle. That was exactly how things went in our household. Look after the baby and the brats can fend for themselves, so we did, even if it meant us getting into trouble, who cared anyway?
Once I was out of the van all I could see for miles was car after car parked up. It was a huge field, one after the other which had market stalls and a massive car boot sale being set up. Mother and him were making a desperate attempt, to sell the furniture and other priceless stuff, to be able to make enough money for a deposit for a house.
Mother had a car boot stall set up with him, not far from some market stalls. Me and my big sisters had to entertain ourselves all day whilst we were here. We had to find a way to eat regardless of whether we would get into trouble or not. My whole life has been about survival, even from such a young age I had it installed in me. We didn’t have boundaries so we didn’t care what we did. If it meant getting into trouble, I didn’t care as long as I survived.
It was always one of my big sisters, who would end up finding us some food. Wether it was stolen from a market stall, somebody else’s half eaten leftovers or money one of them would get from somewhere to buy food (probably stolen from market stalls).
One particular day, one of my sisters did something very risky but if we got away with it, we’d have been so happy! We were walking through the market together, out of sight from the stall my Mother had. One of my sisters told me to be quiet and run as soon as she did, so I glued myself to her waiting to run. As we passed a butcher’s stall she stopped and told us to get ready. All of a sudden she leaned forward but I couldn’t see what she was doing, then just like that she told us to run, so I did, as fast as I could trailing close behind her. When we all stopped I was gasping for breath but my sister was laughing so much. Not at me but at the excitement of what she had just done. When she leaned forward at the butcher’s counter, she had grabbed the charity box from the counter and it was full of money. It felt like we had just found the biggest treasure chest ever, I was so excited! I had no concept of money back then, I was only 5, I just knew that money got people things. Saying that though my sisters were only 7 but I suppose they knew more about it than me. I do not know how the charity box was opened but once it was, it seemed like hundreds of pounds! My big sister who took it from the butcher’s was pretty damn chuffed with herself, but then again I was proud of her to. I’m going to call this particular sister, Grace. We all got up, after spending ages trying to work out how much money we had. We were walking through some wooded area, into one of the main fields where they had car boot sales. All of a sudden my happiness came crashing down and instantly I was faced with fear. I saw my Mother ahead and she was looking straight at us all. If looks could kill then we’d be 10 feet under by now, she was angry and I just knew she had somehow found out what we had done.
Mother marched right up to us and demanded we gave her the charity box. The butcher’s had complained about us, just as others working on the market had done. Three young children free to do what they pleased, of course somebody was going to say something. Grace gave Mother the charity box and we all followed her back to the van. It was almost time to close the stall for the night and Mother called us back. As we returned she was smiling and handed us some coins. We were each given a specific amount, whilst remembering individually, what we were told to buy from the fish & chip shop for Dinner. I was so confused but I wasn’t in a position to question anything. Me and my sisters ran to the chip shop which was a proper little shop just behind the Butchers counter. We got there and ordered whatever it was we were asked to, paid and took it straight back to Mother and the monster. Mother took the bags, thanked us and put out Dinner for herself, him and something for my little sister. Our punishment was to sit and watch then demolish the lot. The excitement I felt was soon took away and I was back to the scared little girl I was in the first place.
Whilst we stayed at what Me and my sisters, now call ‘the market’, at night we had to sleep in the back of the van. Just like we were tied up with those bungee cords, on the journey to the there, we had to be tied up exactly the same. I don’t know why he did it because the doors were locked as well, we couldn’t get out if we wanted to. As there were no windows it was pitch black in, I could not see a single thing. The back of the van was still full of worthless junk, as in the day the monster would sometimes disappear and return with more items to sell. I’m not sure how he got hold of things but he always had a way of making money. Where we were parked up it was surrounded by trees. I heard every little noise from outside and I would jump at everything. Each night before he tied us up, he told us to be quiet otherwise the bad witches from the woods, would come and get us. Me being 5 I believed absolutely everything he said and was terrified at the thought of these “witches”.
One night I was drifting off to sleep when I heard what sounded like scratching, on the outside of the van. I didn’t question it because I was scared to speak and went to sleep. The next night I heard it again and it went on for a few nights. As time progressed I overheard that monster, talking to Mother. It was obviously discussed out loud intentionally, so we could hear. He was talking about the witches and how a lot of people had said they’d seen and heard them around the markets at night. He said that they scratch things with their long sharp nails, to try and get what they want. What witches wanted most of all was bad little girls and witches always got what they wanted, so he said. This confirmed the noises I was hearing at night, were infact the witches and they were trying to get me and my sisters. I’d always been scared of going to sleep prior to being at the market’s and I was always frightened of the dark. The night i overheard the news of the witches, I begged him not to tie me up and told him I didn’t mean to be a bad child. He just laughed in my face and continued to do so till I lay down for him to tie me up. That night the witches came back. They were scratching the van louder than other nights. All of a sudden the van started shaking, me and my sisters screamed but couldn’t move. I heard evil laughing coming from outside the van and scratching continued, once the van had stopped shaking. In my little 5 year old head, I had never been so scared, I truly believed it was witches coming to get me. Those so called witches came back randomly throughout the time we were at the markets. I was scared every single time they came, it was just like the first time all over again. Now I know that it was indeed him and Mother but at the time I had no reason, to doubt the conversation I’d overheard them talking about.
Growing up I have asked Mother about certain things, which had happened in the past. This market place was a huge car boot sale that was on each weekend. We travelled to different markets after the first one, with the last one being in Blackpool which is in the North West of England. We’d started off in the South and made our way up to there.
We had been in Blackpool one night and were allowed out of the van, to use the toilets. My face lit up instantly with all these pretty bright lights, they went on for ages. We went in search of some toilets and found this scary little toilet block, down some smelly stairs! It had a machine on the entrance and you had to put a coin in it, to get let into the toilets. Mother put one in and told us to climb under, so we did. The smell inside was absolutely disgusting, it smelt like urine and the floor was wet, scattered with bits of crumpled up toilet paper. Now I’m starting to feel old because those were the days when public toilets, didn’t have proper tissue. They had that tracing paper like stuff, which was awful to use and so uncomfortable! After the quick stop to the toilets, we all went outside and we were told that we were going for a walk. My Mother was holding my little sister whilst walking beside the monster. Me and my big sisters walked together, behind. All we did was spend about 30 minutes, walking up and down the sea front. It was the best walk I had ever had. I got to see all the pretty lights again, in all different shapes and characters. Some of them made me laugh so much because they were daft. It was dark and the sea looked really far away, we weren’t allowed to go down there though. Still, I had a really nice time just walking up and down the sea front. That night I went to sleep happy. I did not care about being tied up that night, as I’d had a taste of happiness, not something that I experienced much in my life.
We travelled through the night and I remember us being let out to stretch our legs. The monster said that we were going to have to stay here for a few days, whilst we waited for our new home to be sorted out. We were in a supermarket car park, but only for s short while.
If I thought life was difficult now, then I had a lot to learn. Things were soon going to change and when I say change, I mean instantly from when we entered our new house!
Towards the end of the blog ‘where my story begins, I mentioned the ‘friend’ that my Father returned from prison with. This man was an absolute monster but I was far too young to be aware of that, at the time.
Once my Father was sectioned and admitted to hospital, this monster started to take over at home. It was like he was always there, he moved in and eventually my Mother became pregnant to him and gave birth to my younger sister, I was about 4 years old. I have no memories of my little sister from when we lived in that house. I don’t remember her being born, her coming home. Infact I don’t have any memories of her, up to me being around 6.
At some point in the beginning of their relationship, me and my big sisters were took into short term foster care, the 3 of us together. I remember being stood outside a huge building with my sisters. Mother was saying goodbye to us and told us she will see us soon. She handed us all a bag of fudge. To this day, i can not stand the stuff, i hate it with a passion. Why i have so much hate towards a bag of fudge, i will never know. A lady offered me her hand and with my sisters, we went to her house. I don’t recall how long we stayed with her. That is all I remember. I don’t know where my Mother went, where my little sister and her pathetic of an excuse went. I’ve never known why we even got sent away with her. Unfortunately, social services can’t help with that either as all the files from the borough we were in had been lost. I’ve always thought there was something dodgy about that.
We didn’t spend long in that house with Mother and him. When I was around 5 we moved. Well we didn’t exactly move, my Mother and him were on the run from social services and the police. As an adult, in the last few years I have been in contact with my Aunt and cousins. Being in contact has given us time to catch up on years of lost time and I have found things out, that I never knew.
I recently found out that the reason we had to up and leave was actually because, my Aunt was on her way round with the police and social services. We were going to be saved from the neglect and the situation we were in, but my Mother had somehow been aware of this. In a flash we were all in the back of his van and were driving for what seemed like a lifetime. Me and my 2 big sisters were strapped down, with these bungee corded type things, that had hooks on the end. I do not have any idea why, but he did it and said we couldn’t leave if we wanted to. I can remember it to this day, I was terrified because I didn’t have any idea of what was going on. Throughout all the travelling, me and my sisters remained strapped down in the back of the van, my little sister was in the front of the van with our Mother and her Father! That is my first ever memory of my little sister.
So we were in the back of this van, no window, no light, tied down and cold with not an idea in the world of where we were going.
If I thought that was scary and enough to deal with, then I had a lot to learn. I’d rather be tied down,scared and cold than deal with the next couple years of my life!