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Forms Of Abuseimages from the stories


We didn’t have much toys. There was never any money, so we’d just muck around with whatever. I remember this one time… I loved this dress of my mum’s. It wasn’t flash, but it had these big flowers on it. It was her town dress. I put it on with all these necklaces and stuff, and I put on these sandals of hers, the only ones with any heels. And I had all that on, and I started dancing in front of Tenille and Katrina, going: ‘I’m so pretty, I’m all that, I’m pretty like mum’s pretty when she went to town’. And all I meant was like when we all went to town with my dad. And he was in my face screaming, ‘when did she go to town, when?’ And I’m shitting myself that I got her into trouble and I’m going, ‘I don’t know, I don’t know’… And he’s laying into mum, punching her, saying ‘slut’ this, ‘slut’ that, and I’m ripping off the dress, trying to tell him. But he wouldn’t listen, and all I could think was… was that it was my fault. Sometimes I’d think, ‘what if we weren’t here’. Maybe dad wouldn’t have hit her.