My So Called Mum: Child abuse, Love & My Great Britain

by Joseph Kane

  “Brush them after; you will break your neck.”

  When he went downstairs, I disobeyed him for the second time that day. I stood up and leaned over to brush my teeth by the sink, just like dad did. Like most bathrooms in Britain, the bath, the sink, and toilet are packed together. Stood on the edge of the tub in all my glory leaning over, I brushed away. Ten seconds later I slipped forward and smashed my skull against the porcelain sink. My right eyebrow split clean open before ending up on my ass next to the toilet. I screamed in agony. Dad sprinted upstairs to scoop me up.

  “Jesus Christ, what have you done?”

  Being so tall, he was at the top of the stairs in three steps. I sat downstairs in a white towel in mum’s arms while we waited for an ambulance looking like Rocky Balboa. The sickness feeling reminded me from the time I landed on the top of my head. Being six, I was amazed not to have killed myself. Making it to seven would be an achievement on its own.

  After recovering from my bad fall, I soon realized there was not much to do in my spare time. We lived on the main road with a few streets that lead off into dead ends, so it wasn’t exactly like I could go anywhere; one way in and one way out. I met one or two new friends that lived around the corner, but they never really classed me as a friend. I was an outsider; someone they didn’t know. It was the result of moving house. If they played in each other’s home, I was excluded. I didn’t mind because I was a content type of kid, unaware of any bad in the world. Bad vibes came from them the time they locked up their bike against a lamp post. The lock had a four-digit password that was only to be known by them. The feeling left me rather sad. My rented friends and I played out one summer’s day when we decided to play near a stream. The stream was at the bottom of a very steep bank, covered with nettles; a death trap if anyone was to fall, even if it was only a few feet down. We all stood on the edge, simulating the consequences if one of us were to fall in. Everyone had moved away from the edge, but I stayed looking down. Now, I wasn’t sure if they pushed me or if I fell, but before I knew it, I was tumbling head over heels through the nettles, hurtling straight towards the stream. The pain was terrible. Face planted at the bottom of the dirty water, I flicked my head back opening my eyes. The murky water splashed past my head in slow motion as I tried to pick myself up. Bushes and a fence were on my right side. The only way out was back up through the nettles. Screaming in pain, the two boys looked freaked out. It was Chorley all over again. How can a stream become so dangerous? Stood in shorts and t-shirts, I looked up to see the boys waving a large stick to pull me back up. I climbed up enough to reach the stick with my hands. Climbing back through the nettles was absolute hell. Tears poured down my face. Climbing blind, I slipped and ended up straight back into the water. On the second attempt, I finally came to the top with my survival instinct to survive beyond six. Going through the nettles four times left my body covered in stings. The boy’s status changed to friends for saving me. Maybe they weren’t so bad after all presuming they didn’t push me in. It happened that fast, it wasn’t worth going over. My house was a few hundred yards away, but luckily my bike was with me. I jumped on to pedal home fast. Soaking wet and in complete agony, tears continued to make my vision blurry. Talk about déjà vu. I had to take a bath before mum could apply her magic pink lotion again. The bath was black from being so dirty. The pain for the following hour was like a thousand knives stabbing me all over. Being in the wars seemed like a regular occurrence for me. Most kids are lucky to fall over and graze their knee. Every time I go out seems to be a car crash waiting to happen.

  Chris came back when my dad was gone, and mum was warming up pea and ham soup for tea. She made it the day before, but I kept my complaints to myself. At six, it didn’t take much food to fill me up anyway. The kitchen was in the living room where mum prepared the food. We had an old-fashioned fireplace that burned wood inside. Very therapeutic to watch once it got going. Starting it with paper and wood was a real pain. Walking from behind the counter, mum gave Chris the bowl of soup.

  “Soup again? I had this yesterday. I don’t want soup; I want a fucking meal.”

  Mum was trying to explain how we didn’t have much in. Chris stood up and threw the bowl of soup at the wall opposite my couch before storming out of the house. The green wallpaper now had a new tint of green. I just sat still while it rained pea & ham soup. Once Chris left, mum just sighed and carried on wiping the surface with a flat look on her face, after briefly pausing.

  I didn’t know much about my mum; what she did during the day or what kind of person she was. She sometimes left me with the farmer’s wife next door while she went out for a few hours. His wife was a lovely woman; you could tell she was a proper mother by the way she carried herself. I went shopping with her that day, and we talked about general stuff. I felt like I could talk to her about anything. The strange thing was, I had more conversation and connection with the farmer's wife in one hour than I could ever remember having with mum. She let me pick what food I wanted for my tea from the supermarket freezer. When mum came to get me, I didn’t want to leave. I started to wish that she was my mum instead. The day she moved off the farm was sad. We all said goodbye to her on the front of the house; her car was parked on the main road ready to go. I gave her a big hug like usual being very fond of her, making it clear how I felt.

  We got to know the farmer and his family well. Mum even got stuck in and milked the cows, doing odd jobs to knock some rent off. She started leaving me next door more often while she went out for a few hours. The Farmer and his son were busy all day around the back, so I was in and out messing around. She must have thought I’d be fine if the Wildings kept an eye on me. I would usually walk over to the cow's pen to feed them grass or hay, playing tug of war with their long tongues. One of the bulls escaped one day chasing Chris to the big steel gate. I’d never seen him move so fast in my life. Stood by the back door, I laughed my ass off. One of the cows ended up dying soon after moving in. It was no wonder with Chris around provoking them, but sad none the less. Jimmy and Steven dug a big hole right near our back door, then they dragged its corpse with the tractor to the hole. It was uncomfortable knowing a dead cow was buried so close to the back door. Apart from my cat getting run over, that was the second time I experienced death. After a month or so living there, we got used to the smell of cow manure. My clothes, on the other hand, would linger in class. Not only was I a loner, but I stunk of cow shit. The kids thought I was pretty cool once they knew I lived on a farm. Other kids lived on farms as well, stinking right along with me. It still didn’t stop some kids making fun. If I weren’t hanging around watching smelly cattle or avoiding where I stood ever since I stood on a rusty nail in the backyard, then I would go inside waiting for something to happen. One day something did happen. Events that would change my life forever.

  Steven was only fifteen by the time he was driving their big green tractor to fields they farmed not far away. He was so cool and lucky to drive a massive tractor with tyres as tall as my dad. One day he asked me if I wanted to go for a ride. Without hesitation, I jumped straight in. He sat me on his leg while we drove on the main road, being that there was only one seat. My friends in Chorley wouldn’t believe me if I told them. What a privilege. It was fascinating too, being so high up, looking down on all the traffic. I reckon Chris was jealous. We drove to some fields nearby where he briefly stopped to open a few gates so that the cows could change fields. After that, we soon headed back. My mum seemed fine leaving me more regularly with Steven. Numerous tractor rides later, he asked me if I wanted to go with him again. I loved going on the main road so why not. We drove down a muddy trail surrounded by trees, close to where he took me the first time. He pulled up on a steep bank in a densely, rural place with trees all around. “Wait here because I want to show you something,” he ordered. As I stood there, he started climbing the steep bank, pulling himself up by the thin trees. After twenty minutes I began to wonder what he was doing. Twenty minutes lasted forever in
such a scary overgrown wooded area. Soon after, he came over the top with a calf in his arms and carefully climbed down towards me. Why has he brought a calf, I thought? Steven stood behind the calf, without saying a word to me. Without even looking at me, he started to pull his pants down as I stood confused. He grabbed its short tail, lifted it up and put his penis inside one of its orifices. I didn’t know what to think. Was this normal? My brain went into overdrive to try and figure out why he was doing such a thing. Not knowing much about the world, all I could do was watch. I knew something was wrong. It couldn't be clean, doing that to a cow. I knew what Erika showed me in Chorley last year was normal because we watched it on TV, but this didn’t seem right. There just weren’t any answers I could come up with. After he had finished having sex, he told me to wait while he took the poor calf back up the steep bank to release it. I had to remain there, worried about what was going to happen when he got back. When he did get back, thankfully we climbed back into the tractor to head home. The conversation was dead the whole way back. He was talking to me, but I couldn’t hear a word as I sat silently and uncomfortably on his knee. “Promise that you won’t tell anyone what you saw,” he repeated. After what he showed me, how could I possibly explain to anyone? I’d get in big trouble if I told mum, so I kept it to myself. It was a naughty thing to do. Equivalent to witnessing a murder in the mind of a six-year-old.

  I stayed indoors after what happened to avoid our backyard where Steven and his dad tended to. My absence was short lived when Steven caught me. He asked me to go with him again. I told him I didn’t want to go. “I want to show you a cool den that I’ve built.” I was hoping he might not repeat what he did last time, praying it was a one-off, so I went along; dens were my favourite. He took me back in the tractor to an open field that his dad owned. After a short walk, we came across a small, stone hut; you could tell it was handmade. It looked like a small bomb shelter, made out of rocks piled upon one another with some partial laid brick. He left a gap for a doorway and a window as a lookout. “What are you going to use it for,” I innocently asked. He told me he was going to bring cows here, and it was also a place we could go in the future once he’s finished building it. I was starting to realize his agenda. He wasn’t interested in anything else which got me worried. What plans did he have for me? Was he going to do to me, what he does to cows? I asked myself. As life went on, I did my best to stay away from the strange lad. Chris would never do the sort of things Steven did.

  Mum had to go out one day that caused me to stay next door in the farmer's house. Steven naturally took advantage by offering to be the one that watched me. I wanted to tell her what kind of stuff he was doing, but I was more worried about getting in trouble. When I got to his house, he took me to his bedroom where his dog was asleep on his white bed sheets. We sat down and started talking in his dull house with hardly any possessions, and no characteristics whatsoever. He would tell me how he used to have sex with his dog when he was younger, but now he couldn’t because his penis wouldn’t fit. As he told me this, he picked up his dog, pulled his pants down and motioned in front of me to give an example of how he did it. Still unaware of how bad the situation was, I still had no answers for myself. Maybe this is what older boys did? I asked him what other animals he had tried it with to avert his attention on me. His cat was asleep on the bed, so I asked if he’s tried it with a cat. “It’s too small.” He said. I couldn’t think of anything else to say, so I stayed on the end of the bed quietly turned towards the door ready to run. Those few hours lasted a lifetime. Before long I was able to go home when mum got back; another close encounter. Pressure mounted in my mind. It was as if I could hear a train coming, but I couldn’t see it.

  Dad had gone AWOL again. Chris was probably staying with friends in Chorley. It was apparent that mum had little or no interest in me. Each chance she got, I was palmed off on someone else. After three uncomfortable situations with Steven, I continued to avoid him, but it seemed impossible when we lived on the same stinking farm. He had lived there all of his unnatural life. I just wished for it to be a pit stop. I reckon she found it in the paper when she was drunk. She always did think she was high and mighty after a few drinks, full of rhetoric. Maybe she felt like a challenge in a drunken state. The house sat empty for a good reason. If a house is empty, you have to ask why? My memories of her became scarce. I don’t know what life she had. She could be like James Bond for all I knew working for the British government. She certainly had a cold calculated personality.

  Steven wanted me to sleep at his cousins, but I firmly refused after knowing what he does to animals. I think he convinced my mum because for some reason I had to go. He tricked me by telling me we were going to get something of his. On the way, we passed the ditch I fell in. Night time would be a scary time to fall in, now the sun has gone. Once we got there, he revealed that we were sleeping. After a long walk through fields, I had no idea how to get back. Lying on the sofa, his cousin watched television while I tried to reason with Steven to take me home. He knew there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t even call for help if I needed to. The house was acres away from the nearest road. Eventually, his cousin went upstairs to his room, giving me some reassurance that he probably wasn’t in on it. Soon after, we went to a small spare room at the back of the house. It soon became apparent the reason why he wanted me to sleep over. There in front of us was a single bed. I tried to get out of it and asked to sleep on the sofa, but he just told me his cousin stays up all night, even though he just went to bed. The fact that there were no adults in the house scared me. Telling him I want to go home failed because he stood by the bedroom door until he convinced me. Being in that house wasn’t safe. There was no way to get back, and I knew what he wanted to do to me. To him, it was prom night. As we both got in bed, I started to panic. I insisted on sleeping on the end, close to the door where I could escape. I faced away from him because I didn’t want to have his face in front of mine, or his stinking breath, breathing over my face. He did his best to make sure I got undressed. I made sure I kept my red underpants on. When I tried to go to sleep, I could feel his hand sliding my underpants down as he started to rub his penis against me. Every time he tried, I kept pulling them back up telling him to stop. I began to get angry as he repeated the process every time I nodded off. It was a losing battle, but no way is he doing to me, what he does to animals; Yuck!

  “Come on; just let me do it.” The twisted teenager remarked.

  The fight to try and stop him paid off after an hour. Eventually, he gave up and went to sleep. I was fortunate this time but how long could I prevent it? He’s going to get me one day. Why does my family never seem to be around?

  After a while, Steven started to leave me alone for some reason. I was glad but couldn’t help feeling it was the calm before the storm. What plan did he have for me next? Long behold, he was back again hounding me. I wish he would leave me alone and stop harassing me. I was hanging around by the back door, getting some fresh air because the farm seemed quiet and Steven wasn’t around. Out of the blue, the dirty lad appeared with his fixed emotionless face. He would look as if he was focusing on something behind me but knew exactly what he wanted. This time he tried to show me his new den that he made in the barn opposite the back of my house. At the end of the barn were stacks of hay piled up ready for winter. I didn’t want to go, but he bribed me with sweets that waited for me once we got inside. “Come on it’s cool; just come for a minute.” Intrigued to see a den made of hay, filled with sweets, and close to home, I thought I would be safe. I doubt he would try anything, so I decided to walk over. We walked past the cows’ pen and climbed up a stair created from a bale of hay. The den was in the corner high up. As he pulled a block of hay away, it revealed a secret entrance for us to climb in. We sat in there for a while having a general conversation, eating the sweets. The conversation soon changed to what he really wanted. Surely, he wasn’t about to try anything near my home; a scream could quite easily alert my mum
or his dad. He started telling me how normal it was to have sex with animals and that I should try it with him. I was more than reluctant to do such a thing. Still not sure on whether it was right or wrong, I could feel myself being pressured against my will. The thought repulsed me. He pulled down his pants and started playing with himself. Bent over in front of me, he was telling me to try for myself. All I could do was refuse. Trapped between loads of hay, the oxygen levels started to drop. It felt like I was going to suffocate. My eyes became itchy.

  “I want to go home; I can’t breath.”

  “Pull your pants down and stand behind me.”

  Bent over with his pants down in front of me, it was the last thing I wanted to do.

  “If you don’t do it, I won’t let you out.”

  “Please, I can’t breathe.”

  Gasping for oxygen with my throat getting tight, I did what he asked. He had me trapped right where he wanted. Scared to scream, no one would have heard. My tiny scream would be muffled by hay; we were in too deep. I looked down at his stinking bum. It was horrible.

  “Good, now let me try it on you,” Steven instructed.

  “please, don’t put it in me.” I insisted.

  He rubbed himself against me, prodding me with his penis. Chris used to smother me with my blanket. This was a million times worse. The hay was getting on my chest. After doing what he said, I pulled my pants up trying to get out for some air. Luckily he didn’t refuse, so we climbed out. Another close call! “Don’t tell anyone,” he repeated over and over again. I felt dirty and disgusting standing so close to him. Once home, I was just glad he didn’t rape me. He had me trapped loads of times. I wanted to tell mum what he was doing, but Steven said if I did, he would blame it all on me and tell everyone it was all my idea. I didn’t dare to tell anyone.