A father's love

It was then that I realised that nothing will ever be the same for me again.

Memories of our childhood can sometimes be blurry but the intensity of this memory will never leave me, for it is etched upon my very soul...

I was nothing more than a little girl, a sweet, kind 'Tom-boy' as they'd call girls back then that liked an adventure, climbing trees and getting dirty. I remember being 5 years old when the realisation that I wasn't safe in my own home occurred and I was flung into a world where I was unable to feel relaxed just being me.

It was a summers evening and my mother was working late in the factory down the road, which is where she worked a few 'twilight' shifts a week. My brother was only 2 years old and he was a unsettled, agitated toddler whenever he was left in our Dad's care. After my dad had given me the nutritional dinner of a pot noodle, I was told to go and play outside until bedtime. I hadn't wanted to do this and I recall telling him I wanted to play in my room as I had been particularly tired that day. How we remember certain parts of our deep past always baffles me but it's as though it was only yesterday this took place and not 34 years ago. I was told to go out and I knew by the tone of his voice that I had to go. This was the 80's and you'd quite often see 5 year olds playing out until late and no one much noticed....or at least they didn't where I was from.

None of my friends were out. I remember that so I just rode my bike around and around the neighbourhood until I saw her....Kelly!!! The girl from my class who was a lot bigger than me and always teasing me about my ginger hair and freckles. She shouted for me to come over to her and as I wasn't scared of her, I did without hesitation. I remember never really caring what she called me as I was then and have always been proud of my ginger hair and at that age I really didn't care what other people thought of me full stop. I was too busy wanting to explore.

Anyway, I digress. I went over to Kelly and she was teasing me about my bike and kicked it. I told her to stop it and she turned around and punched me on my arm. A 5 year old's punch isn't hard or painful to anyone else other than a 5 year old and I remember holding back the tears and cycling straight home, wanting my Daddy to cuddle me and make me feel better.....

I stormed into our house and shouted my Daddy through the tears that started to fall. I could hear my brother crying in the kitchen and my dad came storming out of there asking me 'why are you crying?' I stood in our long hallway that went all the way from the front door to the back door and had a lovely large part under the stairs where I had my Wendy house and would play inside with my cars. I told my Daddy what happened and I was stood there wanting him to cuddle me and kiss the pain away from my arm.

I still remember looking up to him and seeing the anger in his eyes. It felt like he hated me.

Whack!!!!

'Did that hurt?.....did that hurt you, you little shit? Because nothing will hurt you as much as that did, so go back out there and beat the shit out of that girl otherwise I will give you more of those when you get home. And stop your fucking crying'

He has slapped me so hard on my face that I had been knocked off of my feet and hit my head on the bathroom door that was behind me. When I look back at that time now, I see his angry look but the moment that he hits me, I see it from a third person's view. Witnessing a 5 year old girl being knocked off her feet by her father for no other reason then she had been upset by one of her peers.

That little girl, the little girl who was me. Stood back up, stopped crying. Looked her dad dead in the eye and knew that her view on him would never be the same again. She marched out of that house, found Kelly and beat her up as much as a 5 year old could do.

I stayed out until the sun started coming down and my dad called me home, so that I was in bed before my mum got home from work. I remember laying in bed and wishing someone would come and hug me and tell me that they'd keep me safe; but no one did and no one kept me safe from him throughout my childhood or even my early 20's.

That's the story of how my father went from being the person I loved the bestest in the world to being the main abuser in my life. How a split second can change your life forever and make you go from feeling safe and loved to being vulnerable and afraid. I didn't cry for 10 years after that day, and even after then, it was in the company of only myself.