House on the Hill.

Chapter 26 The Day i Tried to end it all

The dark clouds seemed to be hanging over my house. Once again, I was in a deep depression. I was 14 years old and my drinking was getting out of control. I was becoming more rebellious by the day as I thought the whole world was against me. The abuse was constantly aggressive and violent. I tried to fight back against my father but I always came off second best. My mother was preoccupied, defending herself against my father. For a few months, I seemed to be happy. I met a girl called Mandy who was fifteen years old; very pretty, kind and caring, a sweet girl who was fun to be with.
Whenever we were together the depression and the heartache seemed to go away. Unfortunately, she was involved in a car accident and would eventually end up in a wheelchair and move to Bristol for a better life. I was heartbroken. I went back on the drink and as usual getting into mischief. Things didn't get any better between my father and me and I started to stand up for myself in a small way by being cheeky to him. This made him worse and the violence would start to get more extreme.
Things came to head one morning. I was late getting up. I was still missing Mandy and I was still upset. I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom when my father came storming in and just grabbed me and pushed me against the wall for no reason. He was banging my head against the wall without saying a word. I totally lost it. I yelled at him and said that he was monster. He looked at me with pure evil in his eyes. His face was distorted with rage. He went crazy and started punching me in the stomach. I dropped onto the floor in pain. I couldn't breathe. I screamed at him to stop but he carried on kicking me around my body for what seemed like ages but it was probably no more than just a few minutes. He then walked out of the bathroom laughing. I then heard the front door shut with a loud bang as though the door had come off its hinges. I was in total agony I crawled on my hands and knees into my bedroom and just lay on the bed. My school jumper had been torn and my shirt collar was covered in blood. My legs were killing me. As for my stomach, I was struggling to breathe. My rib cage was swollen on one side and I could see bruises in that area.
Every time I tried to breath I would get pain on my side. I slowly walked in into the bathroom. I could hardly walk after the hiding he gave me. I looked in to the mirror and my right cheek was badly swollen. I started to weep. I couldn't take it any longer. I just wanted the beatings to come to an end. All I wanted was a normal childhood and to be loved. I opened the bathroom cabinet and I picked up my dad's razor. I then I slumped down on to the toilet seat. Tears rolling down the side of my face, I pushed my jumper sleeve up and I started to slash my wrist and arms. I wanted to die. I just didn't want to live any more.
I don't know how long I was slashing my arms with the razor. I was totally oblivious to what I was doing or what was happing around me. I felt like I was in a trance.
I didn't realise my mother was there. She grabbed the razor out of my hand and screamed at me to ask what had happened? I just looked at her in the eyes and I didn't answer. She slapped my face to try to get a reaction. I felt weird as though I was drunk. The room was spinning around. I must have fainted because when I woke up my mum was wrapping my arms in a towel. I looked on the floor and it was covered in blood.
My mum just came straight out with it and said, "I'm taking you to hospital as you need stitches. Your arms are in a mess."
My mum lifted me up and I could feel the blood pouring down my arms. She took my jumper off and I yelled out in pain. She then put a shirt on for me. I couldn't move as my ribs were killing me.
I had to go down the stairs step by step aided by my mum because I was in agony and my legs were like jelly. She rang for an ambulance and it was here with a matter of minutes. My mum spoke to the ambulance driver outside the front door. I couldn't hear what they were saying but when the ambulance driver came in he pulled the towels off my arms. It was then that I saw the damage I was shaking and crying. I just couldn't remember slashing my arms. I must have been in a state of shock.
He then bandaged my arms. He asked me, "How did you slip on the broken windows panels? You have cut your arms really badly."
I just looked at him puzzled. My mum interrupted and said he was rushing out the door as he was late for school and he slipped and fell on to the window panels which were lying next to the coal bunker and it was all the broken glass that cut his arms and he hurt his ribs and banged his head as well.
I looked at my mum and agreed that is what happened exactly. I knew he didn't believe me as they were straight cuts and it was obvious there was no glass in my arms.
I was taken to Townleys hospital on Minerva Road which wasn't far from my house. In the ambulance, my mum held me in her arms all the way there. I was taken straight into a cubicle and it wasn't long before I was treated by a doctor and a nurse. They checked my arms and straight away I was told they were badly cut and they needed stitches. The doctor checked the side of my face and said it was badly swollen.
I told the doctor I was in pain at the side of my ribs and I was told I might have cracked or badly bruised ribs. My arms and wrist were stitched and I counted 63 stitches in all. I also had an X-ray and I found out I had a cracked rib. I was in total agony I couldn't breathe properly.
The doctor and the nurse who helped to stitch me up knew something was untoward but I never told them what happened. I was too scared to say anything in case my dad took it out on my mum. For the next few months my mum would never leave my side. I understood why she lied to the ambulance driver and the hospital as it would have brought shame to my family. I never told anybody what happened; not even my closest family members or my best friends. It would be a secret that would be kept between me and my mum for all these years until now that I am writing my book. My mum would take the secret to her grave.
A few months later, after the incident, I decided enough was enough. I would run away to Paris with the intentions of never returning home. It would be the first time away from my mother and I would sail across the English Channel all alone and into an uncertain future.