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I never had the perfect childhood; constantly being in trouble, hanging out with people a lot older than me, going out smoking till late and one of the most defining moments of my life, getting abused by my parents.
My parents were not the best parents, they were on the opposite end of that scale. They would argue and my dad would threaten and beat my mum and my mum would shout and occasionally get a slap in herself. But the true anger both of them would reserve from each other would be unleashed upon my younger brother and me.
At first it would start with a shouting to, but as the marriage started to disintegrate, the punishments would get more severe. It would start with a pencil to the fingers, then a bamboo hit to the back, then a leather belt to the back side and finally it ended last week with me being scalded with boiling hot water dashed onto my legs and genitals at the age of 18, which thankfully did not get severely damaged. I could never match up an action of mine that led to these punishments as I would get severely scarred by the punishments or it would be for nothing.
I remember that next couple of minutes after the scalding, I let out a roar of pain so loud that the neighbours and the whole street would have heard it. Thankfully someone did. The police were rung in a matter of seconds, and arrived to our door in a matter of minutes. I could never remember this part, but from the police report, it said "he was rolling around fully naked on the floor, screaming through the pain of being scalded with oil, his parents just stood and watched as the officers on the scene, tried to reprimand his parents, call an ambulance and comfort him and his brother for the horror he witnessed. The parents showed no remorse whilst being escorted to the police car, whilst the boy was getting medical attention."
I woke up after being put under a very strong pain reliever, with the police by my side and my brother on the other, something happened which I could not recall at that given time. But once my brother explained it I started bursting out with tears, not for myself but me being naïve and trusting and not telling someone about my parents.
The police officers had told us we would be much safer and be taken to a foster home, The Shuttleblock Foster home. I was slightly relieved but scared to visit these new people, scared to tell them my story and why I was in a foster home, so me and my brother decided to stay away and live with him and I would legally be his carer as I was 18.
It took a few weeks for the court case to come in, and whilst I was sitting in the booths waiting for my who I thought were parents to come out, a police officer directed me to the women who phoned the police and was on the scene at the same time of them.
She was stunning, her blonde seductive hair, with her bright green/blue eyes, and wearing a dress that showed her exact figure, with the delicate ass and huge boobs, it was perfect. So I started talking to her, asking what was it like. Then I asked her name, it was Elsa. Elsa Griffiths. Then I asked her age, it was 27. Then I asked what she does. She does therapy. Then we exchanged numbers, professionally of course. It was 07........
Then my parents walked in, we all stopped talking. All eyes were on me, my brother, and my parents. As we locked eyes, I stared at them, they stared back and a little chuckle came out of them. Oh how foolish I was.
They got to the podiums stood and the judge soon followed.
After a very quick few days, the judge has announced they had reached a verdict. After 18 long and hard years, the abuse would finally stop. Or so I thought.........