The Whores Daughter

I clearly drew the short straw in life.

This is a personal story. One that rips my heart to shreds anytime I dare tell it. I ask the weak hearted to escape the page, for it would slip the jolliest man into the deepest dreppression.

 

It began as long ago as I can remember. The late lonely nights. The smell of stale smoke and cheap perfume and sweat. Yes sweat, the smell now at an older age I link with the stench of unmeaningful sex. I learned long ago to stop crying. To just turn a blind eye. But, how can a person be expected to turn a blind eye to her own mothers prostatution? I suppose I was numb.

 

It all kicked off when I took the same route. I dont remember why, I dont remember when. The memory is as paralysing as an anestetic.

 

I didnt have to bother to hide my truency. Mum wud lie in the bed with discusting men, uncaring, and I would just get up, steal her tesco value vodka and take unreasonable amounts of it straight. I harmed myself for a cheap thrill, I saw mum doing it before and that is where I had gathered the idea. I didnt do everything I saw her do. And I remained a virgin. No-one would wonder where I was and to be honest, if it wasnt for the name with no face on the registar at school I would have got away with it all through my years at school. When I was 14 I was caught. After two weeks of going to school I knew I could not take it for two more years. I had a plan. To cut a long story short, I had painful scary sex on the school grounds with a 6th year to get myself expelled. I was in the Newspapers, branded.

 

This lead to a series of tragic events. What I didnt know at the time was event that would change my life for the better. My mum was also found out. Insulted in every Newspaper in the UK. Abused and stared at everytime she left her home. The visits from men stopped. Even they could bare her. Obviously she could not see a way out, other than suicide.

 

I found mum hanging in the shower on the 30th of May 2007.

 

After her funeral, which was only attended by myself, the priest and an old primary school teacher I moved out of my dreary 'home'. I was fostered by a family that had read my story in the paper. I now have a part time job at a local call centre and I have dated two people, dont get me wrong I have will never forget the hell I endured. But my fairytail ending is just that. A fairytail.

 

I did feel like ending my life many times through my ordeal, I certainly never thought their would be another way out. But it just goes to show anything is possible, dont give a permanant solution to a temporary problem.

The End

2 comments about this story Feed