The earliest coherent memory I have is around age 3 or 4.
I remember it was my birthday; I had received an Action Man jeep as a gift and was obsessed with it. I was sent to bed early, content, tired.
It started in earnest that night. I woke to find myself naked with a cold feeling behind me, then the pain started. Never had I felt anything like it. A pillow was placed over my head to muffle the sound, and I was punched in the back of the head until I passed out. This was to become a regular event, mixed with random acts of violence.
The number of times I tried to get help, without success. In later years, to have a doctor in Loughlinstown Hospital tell me that I deserved what I was getting because I couldn’t behave ( I was 10 and being treated for broken bones that did not happen by falling off my bike), family members turning a blind eye, always wondering who knew, and if they did, why wouldn’t they help? There is a special loneliness on earth reserved for those who suffer at the hands of evil without hope of rescue or intervention. I felt it then, and I still feel it now.
It amazes me how often a noise or odour can trigger those memories, I am brought right back to those days with a feeling of terror, so many years later and the impact is as strong today as it ever was.