‘I had to make it stop…’

By the time I was fifteen, life at home was so miserable.  Things were getting worse in terms of the ‘frequency’ of my step-fathers violent drunken episodes and he had turned his attention onto my mother as well as me.  I have to admit, I didn’t have much sympathy for my mother; as far as I was concerned, it was her fault because she had picked him as a partner and she was only getting the same treatment I’d had to endure for years.
One morning, I decided that I couldn’t carry on living with the way things were.  My step-father had hit me the night before, banging my head so hard against my bedroom wall, the plaster cracked on impact. He’d also grounded me for a week – which meant after school I would have to go into my bedroom and, other than eating downstairs, would have to  stay in my room until the morning and so it would carry on;  light bulbs were also removed from my room.     To make matters even worse – yes, they could get worse – it was a Friday, my worst day of the week.  Fridays meant that I had to be with them over the whole weekend.  So…with all of this in my mind, I ate breakfast and then calmly went to the medicine cabinet; I reached for the nearest bottle of tablets and, with the help of a large glass of water,  swallowed them all.  I then left home to catch the school bus.  I remember feeling really calm, calmer than I’d ever felt.  Finally, I was taking control of my life.

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