Pain Filled Smile

Mum was never a bad person she had problems but most of them made who that person I still miss every day.

However, the fact she couldn't be alone was not one of the things I liked. I don't if there where any boyfriends before we moved to the cobbled street but I know she was married very young to a gentleman twice her age, that didn't work and the married my dad.

I don't remember them ever being together but the first boyfriend I remember was probably the best.

I don't remember much about him, but let's call him Barney. Barney use to come and fix things, always had a big smile, that about all I remember apart from one conversation we had. Barney was African American (found out a few years later). He was round one day fixing the door, mum had broke it on a drunken stumble in. He was getting me to help, telling me about the tools, as I was watching I noticed the inside of his hand was a different colour. "why is your hand a different colour?" He laughed. Obviously I was young think about 5.

Barney just carried on with his big smile, he must of noticed me still looking. He put his hands out together one facing up, one facing down and he said "when you see a person with hands like these just know they have worked hard to be able to walk around the world and smile".

Didn't know what he meant at that time but it made me smile. I really liked Barney. But that was it.

No more Barney, no more help fixing the house when mum broke something.

Then came Steve.

Mine isn't the worst but not exactly the best.

I am curled up hiding behind the couch. Avoiding been seen. The knocks at the door are getting and the shouting through the letter box.

My mum never left me to be mean or because she didn't care, she had to go to work. It was just my mum and me at this point and I was 4 years old.

My dad came to the house one day looking for me because he hadn't been allowed to see me. He must of seen me through the curtains because he started talking to me through the letter box. I knew I shouldn't have spoken to him but it was my dad and I had missed him. I didn't he would tell anyone, mum had to work and I had food and TV I was fine.

But he told.

Dad came back a few days later, mum was at work again. He wasn't alone this time. I was being cheeky as I heard nosies and looked out, I see them the police and dad. I had to hide.

I couldn't let mum get in trouble.

I didnt want to be in trouble.

Dad knocked on and shouted for me, I wanted to go to him but I couldn't move.

Then the knocks changed it was soo much louder. It scared me, I got too scared and had an accident. I knew that would get me in trouble.

If felt like forever I was there, then quiet.

I don't know how long I waited, but I waited. I got cold.

I got changed and hid my clothes.

Till the day my mum passed I never knew if she was aware of what happened. My dad confirmed all this a couple of years ago but never said if he had spoken to mum about it.

This is a place for me to get out what needs to come out.

I have been through therapy, self destruction, self harm, drug abuse and alcohol abuse.

Yes I have come out to be able to say I'm OK, but I'm not.