Bluehound
03-02-2011, 08:50 PM
I am waiting.
I seem to have spent a lot of my life waiting for things; one of my earliest memories is waiting for my Mum to come home.
We didn't have much when I was little, food was pretty scarce, Mum bringing home the shopping once a week was a really big event.
I vividly remember sitting in the window of her bedroom, surrounded by her things. Idly playing with makeup and perfumes, tickling my nose with her blusher brushes, all the while watching for the bus that would bring her back to me.
I could just about see the bus stop from tiptoes on her windowsill and every time one came my little body would tense with anticipation of watching her struggle down the steps to the pavement, laden with groceries.
It would feel like a thousand years worth of buses had come and gone without a sign of her, until finally she would descend. Often she would stop and place the bags down, before rearranging them into an easier to carry position before continuing.
I wonder if she ever sensed me watching her, I never did ask, she certainly didn't rush back home but would plod wearily up the hill. I would watch until she disappeared behind a clutch of houses and then rush down to the kitchen to wait for the sound of the key in the door which would trumpet her arrival.
But wow it was worth the wait, after two or three days of end of the week basics, those bags contained an epic feast for me. Malt loaf and crumpets, crisps and even chocolate if we were lucky, I thought it was heaven.
My Mum has remarried again now, that should have changed things for us. More food would have been nice, maybe other stuff like getting toys for Christmas instead of clothes and other necessities. But no - things are just as bad, he's a drinker and mean with it, even violent sometimes. He clearly hates kids.
Why would you marry a woman with kids if you detest them so much?
I seem to spend all the time waiting now, just waiting for him to go out of the house. Hoping that it will be soon, before he finds something to pick on me about, or worse have one of his really bad tempers and hit me. Once he has gone out I experience a moment of blissful release, before the cycle starts again. Then I spend all my time waiting for him to come back, wondering what kind of mood he will be in. If he is going to start on mum or one of us kids.
No one should have to live like this.
The other week I was setting off for school when he started a row with Mum, he was as nasty as I have ever seen him, so that I was frightened to leave her. He picked up a knife and held it to her throat
"Get out now! Go to school or I will cut her!" he screamed at me.
I turned and fled.
What else could I do?
I spent the whole day waiting to be called to the headmaster’s office.
"We are really sorry to have to tell you this. But you mum is dead."
I imagined them saying over and over again.
Longest day of my life that was. But when I got home they both pretended nothing had happened.
I can’t take it any more, I am going.
I have met a guy on the internet he sounds so nice, he listens while I rant about everything in my life and always says the sweetest things to cheer me up. He has found a house we can hide out in till we figure what to do.
I am waiting for him on the street corner, with my bag packed. I tried not to take too much food, left it for the other kids, mums not going shopping for a couple of days yet.
Finally, a car pulls up and the window rolls down, he looks a little older than I was expecting.
"Hi Amy, it's me -Tom. Have you been waiting long?"
Only all my life Tom, I think but I don't say it out loud. I suddenly feel a bit coy. It's different meeting someone in person like this. I think he realises and smiles warmly at me; I recognise the smile from the photos he sent and feel more at ease. I giggle and jump in the car. I am really doing this; I am really getting away from it all.
"Thanks” I say, finally finding my voice "you're my hero" he smiles again as I make our in-joke. He has rescued me, he’s my knight in shining armour and off we speed into the night.
Tom isn't my hero after all.
He is not the same teenage boy I spoke to for hours on the internet. I have been so stupid; he’s not even a teenager. Once he had me alone he didn't seem to want to talk much at all, he has hurt me a lot.
The doors are locked and he carries the keys on his belt like a prison guard; I even have to ask him to open the door so I can go to the loo. I think he likes the power it gives him.
God the noise of those keys, jangling as he walks is driving me insane.
I am just waiting now, he will make a mistake. If I can just get his phone for a moment I could call for help.
Finally, I have gotten hold of it, I phoned the police twenty minutes ago. I am sat waiting for them to come now and he doesn't have a clue. It might take them a while to figure out where we are though; I was a bit vague on the phone because I’m not really sure where he brought us to in the car that night.
I am also waiting for the pills I gave Tom to take effect. He doesn't know it yet but I slipped him enough sleeping pills to kill an elephant, he had a bottle to keep me quiet while he went out.
Wonder what will get him first, the pills or the police.
I really can't wait to find out.
I seem to have spent a lot of my life waiting for things; one of my earliest memories is waiting for my Mum to come home.
We didn't have much when I was little, food was pretty scarce, Mum bringing home the shopping once a week was a really big event.
I vividly remember sitting in the window of her bedroom, surrounded by her things. Idly playing with makeup and perfumes, tickling my nose with her blusher brushes, all the while watching for the bus that would bring her back to me.
I could just about see the bus stop from tiptoes on her windowsill and every time one came my little body would tense with anticipation of watching her struggle down the steps to the pavement, laden with groceries.
It would feel like a thousand years worth of buses had come and gone without a sign of her, until finally she would descend. Often she would stop and place the bags down, before rearranging them into an easier to carry position before continuing.
I wonder if she ever sensed me watching her, I never did ask, she certainly didn't rush back home but would plod wearily up the hill. I would watch until she disappeared behind a clutch of houses and then rush down to the kitchen to wait for the sound of the key in the door which would trumpet her arrival.
But wow it was worth the wait, after two or three days of end of the week basics, those bags contained an epic feast for me. Malt loaf and crumpets, crisps and even chocolate if we were lucky, I thought it was heaven.
My Mum has remarried again now, that should have changed things for us. More food would have been nice, maybe other stuff like getting toys for Christmas instead of clothes and other necessities. But no - things are just as bad, he's a drinker and mean with it, even violent sometimes. He clearly hates kids.
Why would you marry a woman with kids if you detest them so much?
I seem to spend all the time waiting now, just waiting for him to go out of the house. Hoping that it will be soon, before he finds something to pick on me about, or worse have one of his really bad tempers and hit me. Once he has gone out I experience a moment of blissful release, before the cycle starts again. Then I spend all my time waiting for him to come back, wondering what kind of mood he will be in. If he is going to start on mum or one of us kids.
No one should have to live like this.
The other week I was setting off for school when he started a row with Mum, he was as nasty as I have ever seen him, so that I was frightened to leave her. He picked up a knife and held it to her throat
"Get out now! Go to school or I will cut her!" he screamed at me.
I turned and fled.
What else could I do?
I spent the whole day waiting to be called to the headmaster’s office.
"We are really sorry to have to tell you this. But you mum is dead."
I imagined them saying over and over again.
Longest day of my life that was. But when I got home they both pretended nothing had happened.
I can’t take it any more, I am going.
I have met a guy on the internet he sounds so nice, he listens while I rant about everything in my life and always says the sweetest things to cheer me up. He has found a house we can hide out in till we figure what to do.
I am waiting for him on the street corner, with my bag packed. I tried not to take too much food, left it for the other kids, mums not going shopping for a couple of days yet.
Finally, a car pulls up and the window rolls down, he looks a little older than I was expecting.
"Hi Amy, it's me -Tom. Have you been waiting long?"
Only all my life Tom, I think but I don't say it out loud. I suddenly feel a bit coy. It's different meeting someone in person like this. I think he realises and smiles warmly at me; I recognise the smile from the photos he sent and feel more at ease. I giggle and jump in the car. I am really doing this; I am really getting away from it all.
"Thanks” I say, finally finding my voice "you're my hero" he smiles again as I make our in-joke. He has rescued me, he’s my knight in shining armour and off we speed into the night.
Tom isn't my hero after all.
He is not the same teenage boy I spoke to for hours on the internet. I have been so stupid; he’s not even a teenager. Once he had me alone he didn't seem to want to talk much at all, he has hurt me a lot.
The doors are locked and he carries the keys on his belt like a prison guard; I even have to ask him to open the door so I can go to the loo. I think he likes the power it gives him.
God the noise of those keys, jangling as he walks is driving me insane.
I am just waiting now, he will make a mistake. If I can just get his phone for a moment I could call for help.
Finally, I have gotten hold of it, I phoned the police twenty minutes ago. I am sat waiting for them to come now and he doesn't have a clue. It might take them a while to figure out where we are though; I was a bit vague on the phone because I’m not really sure where he brought us to in the car that night.
I am also waiting for the pills I gave Tom to take effect. He doesn't know it yet but I slipped him enough sleeping pills to kill an elephant, he had a bottle to keep me quiet while he went out.
Wonder what will get him first, the pills or the police.
I really can't wait to find out.