The monotony of torture continued for a week until my father realised what had been occurring whilst he was managing his factories in the neighbouring villages of St. Gregory’s and St. Mary’s, collectively known as Sileby.
There was a break in the violence for 5 days around my mother’s funeral. This was my first church service. It was rather downbeat, considering the circumstances, but I managed to stay quiet and was respectful of everyone’s sorrow.
After the 5 day break, the persecution re-started, so my father hired a childminder in an attempt to release me from my painful existence.
This strategy worked until the childminder became heavily pregnant 5 months into her service. My father released her, hoping that her unborn child wouldn’t suffer an existence as worthless as mine.
Although I had still suffered beatings from my siblings, they left no scars, and my father didn’t hire another bodyguard, as he thought they had learnt their lesson.
How this move would advance his sorrows, he was yet to find out.
The torturers had cunningly used tactics in their attempts to remain free to thrash me some more the following day. They knew that they had 2 strikes each before a bruise would show, and so they changed the places that they hit me daily, no bruise ever showed up.
As a result of the lack of injuries, my father only found out that Robert and Caroline had been beating me once more in my life.This was the last time that they did.