Moi...Yeah What About It?

Janine Slater Original Writing

“ Little Bitch… don’t you fuckin’ walk away from me, I’ll make you pay, I’ll kill you, then everyone’s happy!!”

At this darkness blocked my blurry vision, and a warm coppery taste was my only comfort, it had been my comfort for so long now. It was only a friend and I’m nearly dead. But when you get accused of going with your cousin you’d expect it of a friend. I was fourteen when it started, just over a year, you’d think I’d be all cried out, but I’ve learnt, gradually, save them, save them for the nights when you close your eyes and he’s giving you what you want, and what you need… love. Corny you might think, but the good things make you cry more than the bad. Every time he’s not smoked bit too much skunk, sput, or what ever else he does, we’ll cuddle and he whispers those three little words every girl longs to hear from a tall dark and handsome older guy. ‘I love you’ But where’s the truth in it. Most guys of sixteen think those three word can bed a girl. Well if they’re vulnerable enough it’s a definite thing. That’s where trouble starts. Sex its just another word for hurt, blood, committing yourself and signing freedom and friends away. And all to some guy that thinks you want to spend the rest of your life with cos they popped your cherry. Its not reality, not to me and it shouldn’t be to you. Loves a trap, an evil thing.

It makes me feel sick, even just thinking about the hell I was put through in as shorter amount of time as a year. I thought I was being brave every time I was alone and my cloudy green eyes cried. I was surprised myself, as every moment we spent in each other’s arms was a good time. I thought I’d never have to be alone. But now I know the sparkles all gone, and the stitches are here.

He wasn’t scared to show anyone the hate and anguish he felt inside for me, not even my mother, the first time, he hurt me was in front of both our families we sat down to a meal, in my house, a time we all thought was good. But I was dragged by my hair into the kitchen viewable from the dinning table. I knew what was coming I had seen his eyes when he had fought previously with lads, those eyes looked straight at me. I began to run to the side door, which was positioned at the side of his masculine, strong aftershave smelling body; my head was spinning as I was thrown back towards the sink. My head in the bowl with the dishes from the pervious course, and he kicked me right in the spine. My father was no longer around he had left us when my brother and I were just three years old. My brother and I thought the same; people said it was just telepathic, I screamed as the broken dishes cut into my made-up face. The phone rang. I heard it, I heard it through the screams and shouts, of my mother and the warnings of that bastards family. My mother ran to the phone hoping and praying it was someone with power that could help, she wasn’t let down, my brother, he said he felt something and Wiz was driving him down to the house, my mother yelled down the phone hoping Wiz would hear, I’ll never forget the words she said it was the first time I had ever heard her swear, I heard them words over and over in my confused and unsure head, “GET YOUR BLOODY FOOT DOWN and HURRY THE FUCK UP”

I’d had enough my body couldn’t take any more of his beating, I lay collapsed on the cold tiled floor coated in warm blood clotted in little ball, coughed out of my tooth missing mouth. I heard the screeching of tyres out front, as my brother ran in followed by four sets of other heavy footsteps. Screams and shouts were all I heard nothing I could make sense of. I was kicked one last time in my stomach before everything went dead.

I was alone.

I was alone in a bed, with tubes pumping all kinds ...

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I was alone.

I was alone in a bed, with tubes pumping all kinds of shit into me, I tried to move but my body refused, to leave me only lying still. I was there for a few days unable to move my bruised limbs, my brother and his mates came in every so often and comforted me, I didn’t feel safe around guys though and refused to speak to them. The one person that made me feel safe was a younger lad I had met on a holiday that year, my mother had paid for him to fly from his home near Stoke to be with me for a few days. My brother had told me I had called out his name numerous occasions. I was unable to remember.

I still thought about him though, when visiting times were over, I still loved him. I thought that nothing could change that, not even a hospital bed. My mother had told me a million times that he was bad news for me. I knew she was right but I always had the last word. I always blamed it on my dad leaving though; I made my mum feel bad because I never had a man to tell me how really men were. But really I should take it out on him he’s the one who couldn’t keep his pants up, well his ankles always were cold, my mum said anyway. I kind of understand now though why my mother never got with another, she could have had any one. She was the most beautiful woman who graced the earth. My brother always use to boost my confidence when I was younger saying I was like her, but no one ever could be as pretty, so perfect. I loved her more than anyone could love anything in the universe. But my love for her was too deep I was told, he told me. I believed him too. I was gullible and he was charming. I HATE HIM SO MUCH. He changed my mother’s perspective in my live; my whole world, and left me behind.

My life was complicated, it always had been. No person, how sophisticated, how intelligent could understand my head, the way I would think. I used to write stories and draw strange looking picture, all the teachers thought I was ill in the head from the first day I walked through the school gates Primary and High. They can all drop dead just as every other down looking snob in this world can. They don’t understand anything, half of them don’t even have kids of their own, and how can they stand in front of a teenager and tell them how they should treat people with respect when they have no respect for us. Teachers always said I had a foul mouth…and. So have 70% of the rest of the pupils in this school. That old line they spoon feed you every time their on their periods are just in a bad mood, “Miss Potts’ you have the most dramatic and over active imagination I have ever had enter this room, now leave” That’s meant to be an education don’t be daft. I admit to the charges with my hands up but I’ve had a bad life, as have others but I took the easy way out and became a little bitch, smoking, drinking etc. It was just what school life has lead me into. I think about life doing things right sometimes but that’s not me it isn’t possible for me now.

Things when I got out of hospital weren't any different between him and me; I’ll call him that because his name sends shivers and spikes down my spine. I carried on seeing him, yeah I know I was stupid, but he told me he’d change just to spend a few moments of his life with me in his arms. My family didn’t find out for a while, but when my brother caught me and him upstairs in my room he disowned me, I tried to cover up what we were doing but I think clothes all up the stairs were a clear give away. No one was meant to come home, my mother in London and my brother meant to be at a friends’, what’s the chances ay? Low High well shit happens doesn’t it? I convinced my brother it was the best thing to do keeping it a secret from my mother as she was suffering from severe depression, give you a guess who it all started with. Lol. Obvious don’t you think?

We didn’t talk my brother and I until I assured him it was all over. He believed me. I had tried to brake it off with him but his dark eyes seduced my mind hypnotising me, they told a story of that day when I nearly died. My life’s never been perfect, and never will be now. I had dreams, ambitions. I was going to be an artist, I wanted people to know who I was and what I had been through but how do you tell the story, of getting beat up by a demon, that lived around the corner from your humble warm loving home. I had ideas but I’d have to find him again to make my work publishable, to kill me obviously. No artist I’ve ever heard of got famous when they were alive so I’d need some help wouldn’t I?

After I told my brother I had stopped seeing him, it was around three months until we finish properly, I had been in hospital again, slipped a disk in my back this time, it happened over three days, it started over a cig, how sad, my best mate of a few years wouldn’t spare her last fag for him and I got bollocked for it. I tried to run but I was never a sprinter, my legs weren’t long enough, he caught up to me within a few moments of me dropping my bags out side the schools gates, he dragged me to the floor by my long brown ponytail, I lay there frozen scared to move as his three best mate screamed at him to leave me alone because I was a cheap tart after a shag. Later that night though he found me, came down to another of my mates looking for a shag off of me. Yeah you know the story, I did it, a shags a shag as my mates brother told me. The next time he threw a paddy was the next night; guess what this was over as well, a lil bit of lippy, apparently I looked like a whore, and his mates would find it as an offer. It was a repeat performance of the previous day although a man dressed in a dark suit came to my rescue; he told me he was always there for me if I ever needed him. I didn’t even know the guy, it was the first time I’d seen him but I thought I could come to some kind of arrangement with him. He was sexy and I was feeling low and on the rebound. The next time, I find it hard to talk about It was thought I would never be able to have kids, that broke my heart, I really wanted kids in the future lil boy and girl Cona and Carmel. I thought that they were cute names for kids and different for when they grew up.

My story with him ended when a couple of weeks I found my self sat in a doctors surgery with a urine sample on the desk, and a pregnancy test boxed up lay next to it, along with that protein tester thing. I’d put on weight and me and the doctor both knew exactly what was going on. I sobbed as I told the doctor my life story; he was touched and offered me a tissue over the long wooden desk I leant on with one hand on my stomach. I quit my sobbing and stood up to leave. No appointments were made, no nothings were said.

I left an unhappy 14 year old with a child with no life ahead of it.