The Mother That never was part 3

The 3rd installment to my burden releasing writing.

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It started with emotional abuse ‘your thick’ ‘your useless’ ‘good for nothing’ ‘you will never get far in life” your pathetic’ the list goes on. You would sit there and let it happen!!! What sort of mother were you?

We was all forced to clean. While you and he just sat there, we would have to clean everything and if we missed a bit, had to do it again. Children should be outside playing, laughing and giggling! Not leading a life of misery! One day I spilt boiling hot water over my hand, straight from the kettle. The pain was horrendous, the skin blistered quickly and was red raw. I could hardly move my hands, yet instead of seeking medical attention I was told to carry on cleaning! I would have silent tears rolling down my cheeks desperately wanting you mother to help me, to tell me it will be okay, to fix me up. But no, you was cold and heartless, the same as he.

He was violent, we would get hit. No matter what the problem big or small it would be taken out on us. The only respite we got was when Nan visited, obviously, you wanted to be like the ‘perfect mother’ but you were far from it. We wouldn’t dare speak up, knowing the consequences would be frightening. One time when she did visit we would visit the local park, which was big and we actually would have a good time, the only time we weren’t stood at the sink scrubbing dishes or polishing the mantelpiece. I always dread when she went home.

Every morning before school we were woken up at 6 to walk those fucking dogs of his, while you stayed in bed. With him, we went, and would get bellowed at if the dog didn’t walk properly like that was our fault! I was a fucking child!! The school was one thing I enjoyed, it meant being away from you and him. Even if I was bullied. We moved house, a semi-detached on the other side of Crewe, not far from where I started high school. I remember it well, down an avenue, a stone’s throw away from the local landfill. This didn’t make life any better of course! I can remember then when he would make us do maths, done by him. Particularly fractions. If I didn’t do it right, I would have to sit there and do it for hours until I had finished. I would be bellowed or hit for getting something wrong. What sort of childhood was this mother? I hate maths because of you and him, and one thing to this very day I dread, I will avoid any situation involving using mathematics’, because of you and him my dreams were shattered. How fucking selfish can you both be? Bit by bit you were both destroying me mentally and emotionally.

Summer holidays were a thing of nightmares with the abuse. I would be made to read a book in the garden, no matter how complicated it was, I had to read it. One very hot day you were both in the fucking shed fucking each other’s brains out while it sat there. You’re a dirty little whore mother. That day I also got sunstroke. I was violently sick, with severe headaches and chills, again I was left to it, to suffer in silence. I would have been around 12 years, my little body and head already ravaged by years of abuse. Christmases or birthdays were no better! Just like a normal day, nothing to get excited about.

You both decided that shouting at us all if we did something wrong wasn’t good enough so a new form of punishment. Starvation. Sent to my room without a meal, I was already a thin girl, and I use to pinch the odd pennies from your purse so I could get sweets at the shop before school, luckily for me, you never noticed otherwise punishment would not have been nice. I even caught my brother eating dog food just to eat, I would rather starve. I got clever stealing the odd slice of bread or a handful of corn flakes, and one day I wasn’t too careful and he went off like a fucking bomb. We all to line up and of course, I denied it, I had no choice. It was a survival from this on. With my life like this, I wish days I wouldn’t wake up. Im a child thinking these thoughts

At this point we had 4 dogs, with us having to walk his mutts, of course, they weren’t neutered, I remember the bitch having 2 sets of puppies in a short of space of time. You were cruel to them too mother! You both were sadistic twats.  Some sort of illness made its way through the puppies, not sure what but they were suffering from bleeding gums and blood coming from back passages. Lethargic and limp they were, instead of seeking veterinary attention they all started to die amongst the shit and piss covered newspaper, covered in blood. This one puppy I had come quite attached too, Mitsy she was named and remember seeing her on the floor, dead, I sobbed. She was laying at the bottom of the stairs amongst her runny, bloody faeces, looking like she wanted our help, but you didn’t help her did you? You would rather spend money on fags and booze. You stupid little bitch! Animal cruelty added to the list of pain.

One day things really come to head, I had enough this point, I don’t know why but one day I took a penknife to school. Maybe as some sort of protection, I don’t know. I showed my sister at the end of the day and she ran home and told you and him. I received a beating for it, the next day I ran away. I would rather live on the streets than stay with him and you. You reported me missing, what was the point in that? I wasn’t wanted! I was eventually picked up by the police, I was taken to the police station and put under the child protection unit. That very day you let him beat my brothers bottom with a broomstick, leading him severely bruised, this was something he couldn’t hide! Poor little mite couldn’t even sit down.

Everything happened so fast at this point. We were separated pretty much, I and Cheryl were kept together as were Elaine and Lawrence and put under the care of Social services, we were asked a lot of questions and many painful to answer, but you Mother was free to live your life not giving a toot about us all. We were put into the care of a lady, she was really nice not that I remember much, I was withdrawn so didn’t really want to be part of life, I remember the supervised visits we had with you at some family centre, you pretending to be the fucking best god damn mother, who were you trying to kid? Even then signs of my mental health were deteriorating. You’re to blame mother. Most days passed in a blur, with trauma and pain raging my brain.


Author: karinao86

Mother of 3 boys, wife to one man and lover of horses. Mental health sufferer in recovery.

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