Oblivion.. or stupidity.

D was angry… ,  but why was D angry?

OBLIVION –the state of being unaware or unconscious of what is happening around one. or in my own words just plain stupid

Remember I said, I still had my hotel, well crazy as it sounds, I went there, yes, thats. right. I went there, and guess what I didn’t go there alone.

It was my birthday soon, I was going to be 21 years old.  I mentioned it to P, at the time I didn’t know that 21 was a special age.  In my case what difference did it make.  I was still a child in mummy’s eyes.  I had never celebrated a birthday so far, and when P suggested he would cook me a meal.  Well, I certainly wasn’t going to resist it.  The only other birthday I recalled was  whilst living in the home at 15 years (previous post).

P… insisted.  I was a little  excited, not about the birthday, but the idea of spending time with P.  We planned it for the Saturday before my birthday, because unbeknown to him I wanted to spend the time with my girls.

The day came, I had been planning this all along, mummy would keep the children, and I would tell mummy and D that I was going out with my best Freind..  I had already  spoken to the lady at the hotel and she had changed my room number, I cannot remember what reason I gave but, I couldn’t let D, come there.  I guess looking back I wasn’t that stupid after all.

The day came, and I met P, and of course we went to the hotel, he had cooked the most amazing fried chicken with cloves, I still recall the cloves and if I think hard enough, I can still smell them.  They were the strangest looking seeds I had seen, but it gave the dinner an Aroma.  image

By this time though, and after all the years of abuse.  If P had given me bread and water.  It would have still been special.

There were all sort of little starters, in his bag, such as, sweets, and cakes;  he had his tablecloth and the foil and salt and pepper and a non alcoholic drink in a bottle. He even bought forks.    Then he took out two candles, we sat on the floor with the lights off, and he lit the candle.  It was nice, but why was I still unhappy?

Over the years, no matter what I did, or where I was.  I was still unhappy. I looked at P, and thought, let me try to enjoy as this won’t last.  After all, my track record had the evidence.

The flickers of the shadow on the wall, made by the candles, brought me back to reality.  I smiled at P,  “thank you” I said.  I wasn’t just thanking him for the food, but for the first time I was  realising  what life  was like on the other side.

The strangest thing was, I wanted to be with P, we slept together, though the same anxiety remained. I knew it had to be done.  After all, I had learnt from previous.  It was a woman’s duty.  We spent most of the night talking,  I learnt a lot about his country of birth, and the language and culture that night.

The following evening,  I decided to go back to the hotel to sign the register, when I arrived the owner of the hotel, a little short Greek woman, approach me.  The lady said to me,   “man  come… man come here. man looking for you”,   “Big man”  “fierce man”  “I scared for you” she waggled her finger in my face, as if to tell me be careful.  She had a strange look on her face, and I knew.

It certainly wasn’t gentle P.

After all I didn’t know anyone else that looked “fierce“.  Eric was long gone, and had not tried to contact me. I certainly didn’t know any other men.

I was frantic, I knew if I stood around long enough she would see my heart beating.  My chest felt hot, my legs was weak.  I still feared D, but I had been having so much fun with P. That it didn’t matter. But, today, at that moment, standing in the hotel room it certainly did matter.

I ran up the stairs, and around the corner of the hotel, I needed proof, although I knew, my mind still wanted proof, just to add to my situation.  I remember my hands shaking as I put the keys in the door.

I ran to the dustbin where the last remaining rubbish were, evidence, I knew it couldn’t be anyone else. He had found the evidence of my affair.

The dustbin had been moved deliberately by D and put in a different area of the room, it was saying , yep, I  know. D liked to play mind games.

I held my head, as I sat on the bed, for a while. I thought of what to do, of what to say, of where to run of where to hide.  After all mummy wouldn’t save me, I was certain of that,  I had played right into their hands.

Panicked, I emptied the dustbin, as if that would make a difference I was guilty as charged.

I had put my life on the block,

I could loose my daughter.

He is spiteful, he will tell my workplace.

The thoughts were coming thick and fast,

I was absolutely terrified.

I left the hotel and ran down the road to mummy’s, looking all the time for the car.  D drove a blue cortina then.   imageI scanned every blue car until I reached mummy’s.  I had nowhere else to go.  My baby’s were there and maybe he won’t kill me if they are in the house too.

Although my heart told me mummy didn’t love me. I thought maybe, just maybe mummy might save me .

Many irrational thoughts raced through my mind, now my thoughts changed to hope. maybe if I got there first, maybe just maybe she will help me.  I was still her grandchildren mother, if not her child. I  ran up the stairs, I couldn’t wait for the lifts. By the time I ran up the fourth stairs , I was out of breath.  I sat on the stairs and tried to control my breathing.

I knocked the door and waited  and I waited. Mummy took long.  Then mummy opened the door. She didn’t look at me, but turned around and walk back inside.

Hmmh!  She grunted.  In typical carribean style, this meant sarcastically,  I’m sorry for you, or  you going to get it.

I felt the tension in the house as if mummy knew what was about to take place, in her home.

I thought of  holding the girls, but I remember what happened to my daughter, the last time I did that (previous post).

I waited, that was all I could do. I lost account of the amount of time I went to the toilet.

I knew D, would be coming.  I was trapped, I was at home but I felt unsafe.

It  was my fault, so I knew I had to take what ever came. After all I was his property, now.

I heard the door knock, and my heart was knocking in unison. Mummy opened the door quicker than she did for me.

I heard him say.  “Is she here”.

Then I heard the door slammed and the  footsteps getting closer to me.  …….

I had no time to move, frozen in fright as D, walked straight into the living room and lounged at me, he grabbed me from the chair by the throat, and air lifted me out of the living room.  I was screaming. As he punched me in my head, I was winded as he punch me in my stomach.  “Thud”  As my head slammed against mummy’s side table.  I screamed. “mummy, Mummy” I was like a raggy dollimage

I heard when mummy closed her room door.

“Go back to the room baby” I shouted, my eldest baby girl  had ran to me  crying. “Please not in front of the kids”  I said.  My words fell on deaf ears.   I tried to protect my face as the blows rained down.  “I can never love you” I thought.  D was a trained boxer, he had a good workout that day.

Then I saw it, a large tin of white paint in the bathroom, it was already opened, as mummy was painting.  I grabbed it and tried to pour it over him, but I was too weak.  D grabbed the whole tin  and poured it over my head.  He then flung the tin in my head. An instant lump appeared.  “Well the paint worked” I thought.. image

He walked out the house leaving me battered and bruised, and covered in white paint..  I sat on the floor in a heap and cried.   “I wish I was dead” I shouted.  “I  wish I was dead, my voice trailed off.  “I want my father”, “I want my father”,  “I want my father”,   I kept repeating this there on the bathroom floor while I continued to head butt the side of the bath. I had a mini breakdown  on the bathroom floor. I cried, I cried, I cried.

until mummy said..

“Get out the bathroom, so I can use it”

I had been battered in mummy’s home and she didn’t  raise an eyelid.  My new word was “disrespect” I thought of P.  I cried some more as I went in the room and hugged my babies. It was all my fault… It was confirmed that day, mummy was prepared for me to die. I was sad.

but I knew, I would be seeing him again.  I needed more laughter to deal with the misery in my life.  But…….

P… must never see me like this.  I thought




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6 Responses to Oblivion.. or stupidity.

  1. maeiiri says:

    Oh my god, reading this post makes me so angry at D & your mother!! You should have used some of your Judo self defence at him.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Andy Oldham says:

    The more I read your story Beverly the more I admire you. You are an overcomer thanks to our Lord.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Andy Oldham says:

    The more I read if you the more I admire you Beverly for what you have lived through and defeated!

    Liked by 1 person

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