The first thing I remember is the sounds of shouting from the kitchen and the dirty hand prints on the walls. I knew they were fighting again but I followed the sounds anyway. I was four-years-old. My mother was on the stove, my father had her held there by the throat. There was boiling water from a pot all over the checkered lino. I stepped out of it's way. Her hand goes down on the hotlate and it smells like burning hair. I had all but lost my sense of smell due to my father and his friends blowing bong smoke into my face as an infant. Still I could smell that.
I watch him strike her, it's akward, crazed, she bites him and scratches Jim down his back. This is normal to me. Something about that makes me angry. God it makes me so angry. He sees me, he must realise I am angry by the way I am glaring at the both of them. He leaves her there crying and approaches me...
"the little man thinks he's a big puncher now..." he says.
He kicks me. I collapse, it hurts so bad. It's not like the other times, I'd gotten used to that. I start to cry and he pulls me up by the hair and makes me stand there while he hits me. I've learned how to cry in silence. I can't stop the tears but I know if I whimper or speak he will hit me again, but this time it's diffrent, my chest hurts so bad and I start to howl and whimper as I squirm on the floor.
I hear Kelly at the door barking and going balistic. I start to cry harder because I know that now he will choke her again and mum will kick her for making noise. I'm so angry. He makes me stand up again. I hate Jim more than anything else in the world and before fear or reason leash me I lash out at him. At first he is laughing. He isvso much bigger than me. He pulls me to the ground and spits on me while he pins my arms by the wrists. I kick him in the mouth. He gets angry. I kick him again and again. His Mose is bleeding. He let's me go. I want him to die.
My mother is screaming for us to stop. Her eyes are dark and her makeup has run. She normally can't be asked but mike came around today. He is a punk and he has cool tattoos, I like him because he gives me two dollars not to tell my dad he is sleeping with mum. I think it's because they're friends. They do needles and drink together in the living room sometimes.
Dad hits me in the face and the world spins. I'm on the floor down. Everything sounds like it's under water. I can taste the blood in mouth, it tastes like licking batteries or the rusty nails under the house. Sometimes I can still taste it. I lay there. I can't move. I try but nothing works. There's no pain but I can't move. I'm powerless. I hate this feeling. I hate it more than anything. I was weak, I couldn't do anything, I can hear Kelly barking and my baby brother crying... I don't think that there is a God.
My mother carries me back to my room. She's scared because I can't move or talk anymore. She tells dad to hide the drugs and call an ambulance, he reminds her that wellfare will take us away and they won't get their goverment handout anymore. Hours pass and they don't come back, not even to feed my little brother. I pray that tomorrow will be better. It wasn't.
Becky came over the next day even though she wasn't allowed. We hid in our special place under the house. The adults didn't know about it or care. I guess this was my first Eden. It was a sancuary, a magical place where we could go to be safe and escape the world. Years later Rebecca would tell me that the real first Eden was the comfort she felt in my arms when I held her. (continued--this is going somewhere)
I watch him strike her, it's akward, crazed, she bites him and scratches Jim down his back. This is normal to me. Something about that makes me angry. God it makes me so angry. He sees me, he must realise I am angry by the way I am glaring at the both of them. He leaves her there crying and approaches me...
"the little man thinks he's a big puncher now..." he says.
He kicks me. I collapse, it hurts so bad. It's not like the other times, I'd gotten used to that. I start to cry and he pulls me up by the hair and makes me stand there while he hits me. I've learned how to cry in silence. I can't stop the tears but I know if I whimper or speak he will hit me again, but this time it's diffrent, my chest hurts so bad and I start to howl and whimper as I squirm on the floor.
I hear Kelly at the door barking and going balistic. I start to cry harder because I know that now he will choke her again and mum will kick her for making noise. I'm so angry. He makes me stand up again. I hate Jim more than anything else in the world and before fear or reason leash me I lash out at him. At first he is laughing. He isvso much bigger than me. He pulls me to the ground and spits on me while he pins my arms by the wrists. I kick him in the mouth. He gets angry. I kick him again and again. His Mose is bleeding. He let's me go. I want him to die.
My mother is screaming for us to stop. Her eyes are dark and her makeup has run. She normally can't be asked but mike came around today. He is a punk and he has cool tattoos, I like him because he gives me two dollars not to tell my dad he is sleeping with mum. I think it's because they're friends. They do needles and drink together in the living room sometimes.
Dad hits me in the face and the world spins. I'm on the floor down. Everything sounds like it's under water. I can taste the blood in mouth, it tastes like licking batteries or the rusty nails under the house. Sometimes I can still taste it. I lay there. I can't move. I try but nothing works. There's no pain but I can't move. I'm powerless. I hate this feeling. I hate it more than anything. I was weak, I couldn't do anything, I can hear Kelly barking and my baby brother crying... I don't think that there is a God.
My mother carries me back to my room. She's scared because I can't move or talk anymore. She tells dad to hide the drugs and call an ambulance, he reminds her that wellfare will take us away and they won't get their goverment handout anymore. Hours pass and they don't come back, not even to feed my little brother. I pray that tomorrow will be better. It wasn't.
Becky came over the next day even though she wasn't allowed. We hid in our special place under the house. The adults didn't know about it or care. I guess this was my first Eden. It was a sancuary, a magical place where we could go to be safe and escape the world. Years later Rebecca would tell me that the real first Eden was the comfort she felt in my arms when I held her. (continued--this is going somewhere)