There are some things you never talk about, some things that get left unsaid. That's why family is so important, because you have that history. Me and my sisters may be very different people, but there is a history that none of us can deny, a history that will be with us forever. These things may go unsaid, but you can see it when you look in their eyes, you can see it when you say certain things. My eldest sister we have a history that goes far beyond the drug abuse she has put the family through, a history that will hurt me for alot longer than I could ever have imagined. It still hurts me to this day, it still makes me nervous, scared, still reminds me of that powerless little girl I once was. Maybe that I still am. Powerless. I hate to think that, that I am powerless, but you are. Faced with life, faced with situations that you can't control, even the strongest people can be brought to their knees, can be dominated by a force much greater than them. The greatest of these forces is that force that has nothing to lose, no boundaries, no limits. I have faced that force. I still see it and hear it now, and I fear it will haunt me till the day I die. I can't talk about this force to anyone. That it eats up my heart, makes me scared to look people in the eye. My middle sister told me that I can't dwell on it, because it will ruin more than my childhood, it will ruin my life. I fear it is to late for that.
I had a great childhood, I was the baby of the family, and so I was spoilt rotten. I still am. I got what I wanted, I got lots of attention, I was babied. My parents adored me, it was a good life. My sisters are alot older than me, and how I wanted to be like them. How I wanted to have their freedom, how I wanted to come and go as I please. I was a wimpy child. I followed my Mother about alot, and was forever by her side. I had an odd relationship with my Dad, I went through a phase where I was horrible to him. My dad worked on it though. He read me a bedtime story everynight I adored it. We would go searching at rare bookshops for books to make up a set, they would be our Saturday adventures. I lived for them. Getting lost in books, lying in bed, not far from my dreams, thinking of what these worlds were like. We'd go on long walks too, in the woods, on bikes, we had lots of adventures together. Seeing if we could find the pixies, that came alife at night when it was bedtime. I adored my Dad, but it was still my Mum that I would not be far from, still her I went to when I had a bad dream, still her I wanted to crawl into bed with and cuddle up to when I had a bad dream. My Mum was not an affectionate person, she had a sharp tongue, and though I knew she loved me, she rarely showed it. Yet my dad was loving and caring. I don't know why I was drawn to my Mum, maybe hoping that i could break down them walls. I remember having a nightmare one night that someone was trying to kidnap me. I went running downstairs, scared of the darkness of my bedroom, and told my Mum. She bent down to my level, put a hand on my shoulder, and said, " Don't worry as soon as a kidnapper realised how annoying you are, they would soon return you". That reassured me somehow. Maybe because I knew how annoying I was, I don't know. I knew I was loved, and I knew my parents just had very different ways of showing it.
My eldest sister was a nightmare from an early age. She hated school. She hated my parents. She hated everyone. She had very little time for me, I was just annoying little sister that didn't count for much. My Mum used to pick me up from school, and we had this white fluffy rug, I guess it was fashionable for the 80's. It was placed in front of the television, and I used to come in and watch cartoons. I had to place myself perfectly at the end of the rug, but right in the middle. That was my place, and then as I watched the cartoons I would pick the fluff off the rug in my grubby little hands. My Mum was always telling me off for that. I knew my sister was bad. My Mum was on the phone to school enough for me to know that. The way she spoke to my parents, I knew she was bad. One day after coming home from school, and me in my usual place on the rugs, my sister came in. My Mum had been on the phone to headteacher and knew she hadn't been in school. She asked my sister where she had been. My sister was foul to her. Really foul. My Mum tried to get her school bag off her, to search it. I remember them wrestling, and my other sister trying to help my Mum. Then it happened. My eldest sister slapped my Mum, hard. I was never so glad to see my Dad, as I was that day. He came home from work, and me, about five years old, tear streaked face ran into his arms, and I wouldn't let him, let me go. I felt safe there. I realised a few things that day. My sister was capable of awful things, my Mum wasn't as strong as I thought she was and my Dad made me feel safe.
These arguments went on for a while. The slapping always seemed to end things. The arguing tortured me. Scared me to death. With each raised voice I would just want to hide a little bit more, but the slap ended things. To this day I hate people shouting at me, I would prefer them to just hit me and be done with it. The shouting is awful, it makes me want to curl up and cry. My sister got worse and worse, until one day she brought this boyfriend home. He was nice, I Iiked him. I was about eight. Which would of made her about eighteen/ nineteen. He was in his mid-twenties. They went out for a few months, and everything was fine. My sister had more than her fair share of boyfriends over the years, my parents just presumed this was another one, and weren't to concerned at the age difference. They started getting into fights though. really big arguments, as a child people presume you are deaf and dumb, and they can speak in a half ass 'code' and you won't understand. I understood though. That on many occassions he had come close to beating the crap out of her, but never had. That my sister was like my Mum, she had the ability to wind someone up, and then enjoy watching the fireworks happen. She loved it, and she pushed and pushed him. Till one day it happened. He slapped her. One slap. She came home and told my Mum. We were all immediately rushed to my Grandmas house while my parents sorted out this problem. Because that is what parents do right. Make the wrong go away. He didn't go away. My sister didn't want him too. He apolgised to everyone, myself excluded, as I was a retarded child, who was sheltered from such things. Though my own imagination probably made things much worse than they actually were. I never trusted him from that point. he'd made my sister, who I didn't like every much, but who I was terrified of, cry, and that for me was an unforgivable act. I remember he tried to read me a story at bedtime once, and I kicked up such a stink, that I wanted my Mum. I think people just thought I was a bratty child. I didn't like him though.
Him and my sister broke up, and got back together, that was their thing. What they enjoyed to do. We became use to it. Them arguing. Her ignoring him. Him trying to kick down the front door. For hours standing outside the house shouting. It was what we became used to. My sister forgiving him. Them being loved for a week or so, and then the same pattern went on. Until one day she decided she was going to leave him for good, because he had done awful unmentionable things to her. He'd beat her, and well things I won't go into detail about but you can imagine. She left him for good. They still tried to protect me, hide things from me. I think this is when my childhood stopped. He started to stalk her, and us. He would follow us everywhere, he would knock on the door, make threats. We got a court order, which meant he could still stand at the bottom of the street, and whistle. Through the night all you could hear was that whistle.
I have alot of memories from these times. It lasted about three years in total. From when I left primary school, through to high school. One of the memories is, that I got made head girl in my last year of primary school. I got called up in assembly and I was so pleased with myself. So chuffed. I was a right geek at school, and this was the big pay off. My Dad picked me up from school that day, and I went running out of school telling him my big news. He didn't really react, half smiled and said well done. He was acting odd. He was silent all the way walking out of school, and then when I got outside I realised why. Standing outside my school was my sisters ex-boyfriend. Just standing there looking. My heart sank. I felt a fear then like I'd never felt before. My Dad put me in the car, and we drove home. I remember asking why he hadn't told me he was there, and my Dad just looked at me sadly, and said he was hoping he had gone, so I didn't have to know. My dad had to go in school, and tell the teachers, just in case he tried to do anything.
Another memory that will never leave me, is when my parents went to the police station. It was a family outing. Me and my middle sister waited in the car. My sister was an angel to me during this time. Forever trying to explain things to me, and try and make me feel better. To take my mind off things. She knew how much it scared me. I went through phases of wetting the bed, and crying myself to sleep. She would sit with me until I fell asleep, and that night, in that carpark I was so scared, and had so many questions. She answered them best she could. Try to reassure me. I love her so much.
The last memory I will share of these times, is one of my eldest sister. To give you an idea of what kind of person she is. I remember her sitting talking to me, asking why I was scared and stuff. She then put my hand on her tummy, and told me she was pregnant, and he would never leave us alone, because he wanted that baby. He would always follow us. She was lying, to scare me some more. There are some things you never forgive. That is one of them. There was more to come though.
My sister had to go to court, for all the things he had done. He went to prison for a short while, and hated it. He begged her not to send him to court again. She went though. The details of all this for me are misty. Because they tried to hide so much from me. I found out years later that they found out my sister had been lying about alot of things. Alot of things he had done to her, she had lied about. Made up, to get attention. I never knew this at the time though. I just knew things stopped for a while. Calmed down. My sister went off doing her own thing, and I was happy, for a short time. My sister doing her own thing, meant she got back with this boyfriend. Him and her put everything behind them, neither were innocent in this situation so they got back together. I didn't understand, I really didn't. I still lived my life in fear. At night I was terrified, at the sound of raised voices I would have a panic attack, no I didn't understand. It was just a circle though, and it went around again. They had a fight, she was back at my Mums, and he went though the charade of knocking on the door and bothering us.
I don't really know what to write at this point. I want to tell you how I felt about what I am about to tell you, but i can't. I have to say it as facts, and look at it like it happened to someone else, because otherwise it gets to much. This boyfriend of my sisters had a sister of his own. Who was a complete nutcase, and who had a boyfriend that was a complete nutcase. One day she went to my Mums house and tried to discuss the situation with my Mum. My Mum has an acid tongue, and she let his sister have it, well and truely. Later that day we went out in the car, me, my Mum and Dad. We pulled into a petrol station. His sister and her boyfriend pulled in behind us. I was sat in the back of the car, my Dad got out, and put petrol in and went to pay. At that point his sister attacked my Mum. Repeatedly banging my Mums head against the window, while her boyfriend attacked my Dad with a baseball bat. The scariest and most powerless moment of my life. My Mum had a nervous breakdown after that, and was in hospital for a long time. She drank and was horrible to me. I was angry at her, why couldn't she be strong, why was she making things worse. She has never fully recovered, and I don't think she ever will.
My sister got back with this boyfriend even after that, an act I will never forgive her for. It didn't last long, he was scared, he finally realised that things had gone to far, and one day he just disappeared, forever. He did try and apologise to my Mum, to little to late. Just like that it all ended. We never spoke about any of it after that, it was a subject that was forever forgotten. I have never wrote about this before, and I though JU was my perfect opportunity. Why I can't trust, why I hate to argue, and how I will never forget any of it.