British Bird - Complete

British Bird - Chapter Ten

British Bird
Chapter Ten
Sang

Flashback: Thirteen Years Old

The silence in the room is deafening. I can't stand it, but sometimes you just need silence to get your head together. So they're giving it to me and that means so much.

I want to know their stories; I want to know what they've been through, but how can they tell theirs when I haven't told mine? Will they trust me? I believe, truly believe, deep in my heart that I can trust them too.

I lick my lips, "I was three years old the first time my mother hit me." All eyes swing to me, I can feel the weight of their state as I keep my head down and my eyes locked on Sean's fingers still wrapped around mine. "The memory is hazy now, but I'm sure I was just sitting in my room playing with some toys when she burst in, ranting and raving about something I couldn't really understand."

It's a foggy memory; I experienced it with such a young mind. Yet the pain, the feeling of her slapping me around my face is something that will always stay with me; the pain that shot down my face, the tears I cried as I screamed and covered my face with my hand. Instinctively, my hand comes up to my face and I rub at the spot.

"Something about money and a grandmother I can't even conjure up an image of now," I whisper. A hand wraps around my wrist, bringing my hand away from my face. Looking up I find Nathan giving me a sad smile, but something in his eyes has me pausing. The understanding I see makes me want to hurt whoever hurt him. He links his fingers with mine and holds on tight, giving me strength I didn't even realise I needed.

"That was the first time. I don't remember a lot, but I know it happened often. I know I felt the pain more times then I could count at that age. I had always been neglected, forgotten about so often I ate crackers and ham for almost every meal as I couldn't cook. I was three years old, but somewhere in my head I knew that all I had was myself."

I hate crackers and ham now. I avoid eating it if I can. "My father's drinking got worse and I remember watching my mother taking some kind of pills on a regular basis," my voice is just above a whisper.

"What did your father do when your mother hit you?" Nathan asks quietly, his hand tightening around mine for just a brief second.

"Nothing," I say. "Absolutely nothing." Taking a deep breath, I carry on talking, needing to get it all out now I've started. "I was a year late starting school as my mother didn't care. I don't know what made her sort it out, but I remember having to follow some other kids that lived down the same street as us to school because I didn't know where I was going. When I got there I realised that I wasn't in uniform. My parents never got me any."

I remember that day; the other mums and dads looked at me like I was dirt. I was in my ratty old clothes that only just fit and my hair that I had tried to put in a ponytail myself. It was horrible getting unwanted attention. But someone noticed...

"A teacher, Miss Jakes, noticed me. Turned out she was my teacher for the school year. She asked questions like where my parents were and why I wasn't in school uniform. I didn't answer because I couldn't. But she didn't push and just took me inside the school and gave me a uniform to change into."

"Someone cared," Luke whispers.

"Yeah, someone cared. She cared so much that the first time I came in with a bruise on my face a week after my sixth birthday, she called Social Services. The very same day I was taken away from my mother and father and was placed into foster care." I didn't even fight the social worker and the police as they escorted me out the house with nothing but the clothes on my back. I didn't want to be there anymore, I just didn't realise it was only going to get worse with every other foster home I entered.