Success Story

5.

Ah, the beginning of year two, my "new chapter"... it didn't go all that well. Gran still didn't give less of a fuck about me, leaving me alone or with Dad. Both my grandparents avoided me, so it meant Dad had to cook for me.

If I ever eat another plate of beans on toast I swear to God I will murder someone.

Oh yeah, and Dad had to clean for me, so frankly, my room was disgusting.

But on the quiet, nothing had changed. This was what my life was like in Leeds. The only difference was for a while I had Ralph. And Ralph could do stuff.

On that note, I should've had Fran, but nope. No Fran, she'd moved out. However, she had heard that her newly graduated brother was back home, she was delighted to come round for food.

Fran came round the evening that we got back. I excitedly ran to the door, stopped by my Dad's viscous glare, as he opened it.

Fran embraced him happily, mumbling some kind of "congratulations" or whatever, but I was waiting for my hug. I hadn't been hugged since I was a bloody baby.

Fran saw me and bent down to hug me. She wasn't as excited as she was to see Dad, but I didn't care. I liked hugs.

Fran stood up and looked at Dad again. "Has the night screaming stopped?" She laughed. Dad nodded and sighed. "And now she's six!" He looked at me, and gently guided me back to the kitchen. Once I was inside, he closed the door and continued to the living room with Fran, leaving me behind.

Gran hadn't even noticed my presence because usually I was quiet. Must be years of feeling like I don't exist, makes you quiet after a while.

Anyway, so I was just stood in the kitchen, not being noticed, so I decided to go and tell her I was here. Except... I never actually got that far.

You see, there was this big shiny pot on the stove, and I could help but wonder, what would happen if I just lightly--

Yeah, you know where this is going.

PAIN! Searing pain! I snatched my finger back and gasped. Then Gran turned around and saw me and pushed me out the room, even though I was crying my eyes out by now. I staggered towards the lounge, holding my hand which was probably already blistering.

Just before I reached the lounge, Dad opened the door (probably to pee... you know male bladders) and saw me crying and cradling my hand.

Having literally no idea what to do, he sidestepped me and walked off. I turned after him, tried to grab him but yet again, he blanked me. I turned and ran into the lounge, where Fran was idly checking one of those 2009 phones that people had that were totally crap compared to most phones now.

She looked up and initially smiled, before seeing that I was crying. She ran over to me and looked at my hand. Angrily, she gripped my arm and slammed open the bathroom door.

As I had expected, Dad was in there dealing with those male bladder issues. Fran didn't seem to care, and dragged me inside. She turned the cold Tap to full flow, with me craning my neck to look at Dad, who had gone into a full panic (hilariously, with the gift of hindsight) and was trying to pull his jeans up at speed.

Just as Fran forced my hand under the water, I finally saw something I'd definitely rather not.

And that, my friends, is how I saw my Dad's dick aged six.