My story

I am reminded of the number of times I tried to make him kill me, I thought it would end everything.

Its been a very weepy day, I am exhausted by it.  

There is a point where the only escape is death or unconsciousness,  When a violent episode occured, I strived for either one.  Through outright definance or silence, I goaded his reactions, learned just how to enrage him and push as hard as I could.  

It's a room upstairs over a very old-fashioned kitchen, it always had a smell of boiling cabbage and bacon and stale beer. It might have been in the back of a pub but I truly don't know.

I dont remember stuff like other people do, I have huge gaps in my memory where sometimes there are only vivid memories of abusive events or its just blank. Family can reminisce about events that took place and tell you what they wore, where we were, I don't remember a thing. This bugs me a lot but I can't do much about it.

You carry around an aura with you once you have been through this, predators look at you differently, you get very very good at recognising them. To this very day certain people can set of alarm bells in me, there are buildings I pass where I will tell people 'Something bad happened there'.  In recent years a friend told me I had a great imagination and went to great lengths to research a building I had made a prouncement about - I was 100% correct in my statement.

I remember being put into the back seat of the car without a word. My father had his sports gear on, he played in a number of sports so that wasn't unusual in itself.

Evil has many definitions, this one seems apt and yet incomplete: something that brings sorrow, distress, or calamity