3. Unwanted
As I got older, Tom got more and more creative with his methods of abuse. Talking with my brother only the other day, he reminded me of the times Mum would leave us with him while she went into town to do the weekly shopping. He would make us cereal and like all good parents, encourage us to eat it all up. My older brother remembers me crying and gagging as I ate the cereal. Tom would put salt on mine, instead of sugar. If we didn’t eat up all our breakfast, there would be severe consequences. He would just stand there in the kitchen watching us all as we ate in silence. When I eventually threw up, he dragged me from the table and sent me to my room.
One time when Mum was out, I was playing with my brothers as Tom worked on a building project in the conservatory. My brothers and I were running from the garden into the house when Tom stopped me. Wearing only socks, he dropped a brick he was holding landing on my big toe. The pain was excruciating. Noticing the blood coming through the sock, he instantly shouted how silly I was to run into the brick and that I should be more careful. At this point, I heard the front door close and Mum walked into the kitchen. Hearing my cries of pain, she came into the conservatory and asked what had happened. Tom explained that I was running and stubbed my toe on the brick. Removing my sock, the big toe was covered in blood and the nail was split. I had to sit on the kitchen table as Mum tried to clean up the blood and remove the broken nail. Tom stood behind her giving me that look that only he and I understood. The pain of the toe was soon masked by the fear of Tom’s stare.
Later on, I was called downstairs by Mum to watch a film with my younger brother. Tom said that I needed to tidy my bedroom first, which of course, I immediately went to do. Upon finishing, I went downstairs and joined my brother. Unbeknown to me, Tom had gone to check and soon came down shouting to get back upstairs and stay up there for lying to him. When I went to my room, everything I had tidied away was out on the floor again.
Get An Honest Account’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
Most of my memories growing up at home are of me playing alone up in my room, away from him. Perhaps this is why I am so content with my own company.
While I was playing one afternoon, Tome entered the room and asked me to stand up. Again, fear surging through my body, I quickly got up off the floor. He told me he wanted me to pee where I was standing. I started to cry. He gave me that look and through gritted teeth instructed me to “do it”.
Doing as he said, while he stood there just staring at me, breathing heavily.
He called me disgusting and worthless and asked me to repeat it back to him, “I am disgusting, I am worthless”.
He then walked out and called up Mum. He explained that I had wet myself. Clearly upset, Mum screamed in frustration and asked why I didn’t go to the toilet. I must have been around 5 years old. Tom stood behind her as she stripped my trousers off. He would just stare at me and being too scared to say anything, I would remain silent, tears streaming, wanting the feelings of fear and shame to go away. I remember Mum walking out of the room with Tom, the door closing behind and feeling so unwanted.
Tom was aware of the power he had. I believe he thrived off of it, He knew I would never speak out. Even writing this today, I sometimes get a rush of fear that he will come bursting into my room for speaking about this. I feel great sadness for my younger self. No child, no adult even, should ever have to be subjected to such cruelty.
