Dating an angry man and abuse Adult webcamroulette
I'm the youngest of four children and I was always ‘Daddy’s special girl’. As I cycled around strange streets, I heard the sound of puppies yelping coming from a house by a big green.
There’s a six-year gap between me and my brother Robert, who is number three, so I really was the baby. He was a drinker who didn’t contribute to the housekeeping, a very angry man who beat me for misdemeanours such as wandering outside my designated play area, and he regularly hit my mum. I stopped in the hope that I’d catch a glimpse of them, and as I went over to the fence I saw these little black balls of fluff in the front garden, and then a man appeared and asked me if I’d like to see them. I’d never seen him before but he asked me where my dad was.
It made it very easy for my abusers to move in on me.
If someone says something vaguely critical, I take it to heart.
A large part of why I didn’t tell a teacher or someone else in authority was that I was from such a chaotic background and always wanted everyone to think I was from a normal, loving family.
I received little love as a child, and that’s a hard thing to acknowledge.
I have never, ever felt safe or secure, and never felt needed by anyone apart from my children.
The sad and unfortunate truth, which I hate with all my heart to acknowledge, is that I felt needed by my second abuser. His motives were abhorrent, but I didn’t know that at first and by the time I did, I was trapped. Since the Jimmy Savile scandal broke at the end of September, 300 alleged victims have come forward to say they were abused by the late DJ and TV presenter over several decades, making him one of the UK’s most prolific paedophiles.
I was so traumatised, I wet the bed until I was 18.
I ran away more and more, sometimes to Mum’s, but I’d always get taken back.
I became naughty at school because it was the only place I could express the burning anger inside me.
As Dad’s close friend he was well protected and I think he knew we’d never tell. There were usually others in the room, and whenever I got up to move away from him my knickers twanged where he’d had his hand inside them, and it sounded so loud I remember thinking, ‘Everyone heard that,’ but no one ever said anything.
Dad was too busy drinking at the bar or arguing with Jean to notice where I was.