• Where do I start? I guess I should start at the beginning but I'm not quite sure where at is now. I never kept a diary when I was little, so I only have my memories to reflect on what happened so long ago. To me it now seems like a dream, or a nightmare I had, but I know it’s real because otherwise the social services wouldn’t have my name on a file the size of a small dustbin. Also my mother wouldn’t be in prison right now either.

    If this has been published it is in memory of what happened, and it’s to serve my little brother some justice even if he can be quite abusive and act very childish at times. Remember I love you.

    We had nothing left after what happened and we had to start from scratch unfortunately I'm not sure what happened to my little brother when I was taken into the care of my dearest grandmother, who helped to nurture me and help me mentally. We of course had our arguments and it took a while for me to get on with my life, but eventually I managed to. To children life can be very scary, they’re so small and defenceless to everything else in the world.

    A sense of worthiness is a child’s most important need.

    - Polly Berrien Berends


    When I was born it was a great time I suppose, well my mother had just received a small bundle of joy to look after, and my father left my mother for unknown reasons, however I could not leave her, after all I was only young and I could not yet walk. So for the next thirteen years I would endure what could only be described as hell on earth in a childs eyes. Of course people aren’t really sure what that would be until they have experienced it themselves some do not believe in evil, instead they believe that the world is always sunshine and daisies, but alas it isn’t for otherwise there would be no such thing as child abuse, rape and murder. Sure it might be all sun and daisies for them because none of these things have happened in their lives, but what would happen if we could see our own timelines? What would we see? Would we see how we die and the events leading up to our own deaths? Or would we see a life full of pretty birds and kittens? Probably the first and always the first because in the end we all die, it’s what you do with your life that counts, what you do for others and how you influence the way that they live.

    My mother influenced my life forever.

    I was two when I had my first memory, I remember being in a car going somewhere and we were just going over a hill. I was also dressed in some hideous jump suit, even if I did love the thing because it was comfortable, it had moons and stars on it and it was of a purple colour, a very deep purple colour one of my favourite colours. I remember drifting back to sleep and then arriving at my mothers newest boyfriends home, not sure where it was but it was a very large house, Karl was a nice man he treated me like I was his own daughter and doted on me, I loved him to pieces, mother on the other hand obviously didn’t. I ran riot and got away with everything she’d try to scold me and Karl would just laugh and say that everything was fine. I played my first computer game when I went there, it was either Gremlins or Sonic, both were played there and I loved those games, Karl even bought me a teddy Mogwai from the Gremlins film. I wouldn’t ever part with it, I was always holding it. To me a small child his home seemed like a castle or something from a fairy tale, and I often got lost in the house. It was a beautiful house and I always enjoyed myself there. However a few months later my mother split up with him, her relationships never lasted long, and she didn’t seem to care about him, after all he had only doted upon us for so long and besides now she had enough material things to keep her happy for now.

    The night they split up was quite scary imagine the scene that I will now describe, it was a sad night for a child, the shouting the loud slamming of doors, and a small child hiding under her douvet sobbing quietly because she’s afraid of moving or even going out of her room just incase she gets hurt in the process, a pillow over her head so that her tears are silenced, not wanting to move even the tiniest little bit in fear of the argument moving into her bedroom. That child was me. I never saw Karl again, and my mother didn’t even think of what I might have wanted. I never even asked where he went because from the experience of fear I thought she might yell at me.

    For the next few months that seemed like forever to me she was happy to just wander around with me, we lived in my grandmother and grandfathers old home and it was a beautiful thing, of course I went to see my grandmother on numerous occasions as I always had, she allowed me to run riot around the place where she worked and all the other women thought I was great. At least that was a good thing, I always had something to say, always had something to yell about and giggle at, and of course I loved the dog my grandmother had, Misty, a good old dog, soon they got a puppy though, Rafferty, she was adorable, and loved to follow me around, loved to play as well. My auntie Leah often used to look after me when she wasn’t at school my mother, well a lot of the time my mother just went out and did what she liked, I never knew this of course, I just thought my mother was just going out shopping or something that adults did, a naïve yet brilliant child, in this world of adults and other things that I rarely understood. I just knew that I always had fun when I was with family, and I was an only child at first.