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

by Joseph Kane

  Back to a place within my head that I hated, two of the girls in the hostel started to come on to me. Being a good-looking lad, there was never a shortage of attention. I strangely had no attraction to any other girl after falling in love. It was weird. Even when they threw themselves at me, there was no interest from my part whatsoever. Being drunk one night in the lounge, one of the girls had left love bites all over my neck. Trying to claim me, it didn’t work.

  “Louise is going to kill me.”

  Worried about what she would think, I tried to cover them up. Two days later she came to visit me with a new cap on my seventeenth birthday. My heart sank when she noticed them. I didn’t even kiss any girls, they just seemed to climb all over me every time I was off my face. She walked off ending the relationship. Without defending myself, there was nothing I could do. My birthday was not worth celebrating. The worst present ever was the loss of my girlfriend. Homeless, surrounded with parasites, there was no chance for me now. I couldn’t go any lower in society. Arms pulled me down into hell, as Louise’s hand slipped away forever. Everyone had abandoned me. My family presumed I had a normal life, calling me a lazy bastard for not going to work. If only they knew the half of it. I knew where I stood in society, but even a rat doesn’t abandon its family. The hostel was a large building, chopped into rooms. Girls lived downstairs, the guys lived upstairs. Not everyone was bad, some were just kicked out by their parents, impatiently waiting for them to turn sixteen; bastards. The staff room was by the front door, with 24-hour staff working to support and watch the CCTV. Most of us took turns to talk to the staff members all day. It was good to relax in a room around adults that listened to us with a cup of tea. Being unbiased without judgement, they helped us without our knowing.

  Alcohol didn’t have the effect I wanted. It just added fuel to my rage tank to the point of overflow. My inverted anger became a pressure cooker. Feeling imprisoned in my room with nothing but hatred for the world, I returned to self-harm. I wanted to destroy someone. Drinking miserably in such a weak mental state, my personality reflected my mum. Pulling a razor out with my top off, I sliced across my stomach and chest. Being angry and drunk, the razor went deeper than previously. Staring at myself in the mirror, I couldn’t see my eyes, I saw my mothers. Lit brightly green, monstrous eyes glared back at me. Blood had turned my whole body red, with no skin visible. Taking two fingers, I dapped the blood from my body to camouflage my face. It was time for war. I was ready to kill. Pouring vodka into my bright green eyes, no one could reach me now. Coming of age, the time to stand up to all this fucking shit was now. One of the girls knocked on my door. Ready for war, I ran over the trench towards anyone stood in my way. The door opened.

  “Oh my god! – Joseph, what the hell are you doing?”

  Looking through her, the wall looked back at me.

  “Nothing is wrong, just leave me alone.”

  Her voice temporarily snapped me out of the craziness. My life went on like that for a while. Even the weakest people can become dangerous when backed into a corner.

  Heading towards destruction, I linked up with the bad lads in the hope for trouble, but it never came. I knew I was better than that. Letting go of myself was letting everyone else win. At night, I sat with a young couple that was homeless on the street. The girl had lived in the hostel, but decided to live rough to stay with her boyfriend. Coming out of prison, he knew how to hotwire cars. After trying to convince him to show me, he threatened to kick my ass if I stole a car. During the day, I walked into one of the smack-head-hotels out of curiosity with an associate. Rooms sat empty with rubbish and needles all over the floor. Not really knowing much about hard drugs, it was interesting to see how people lived. Stepping over syringes was like walking through a minefield. How someone could use so many was beyond me. One wrong step balancing over them was likely to result in one of us contracting HIV. That hotel was probably my next destination if I didn’t gain control of myself. Other times I rode a bike through town dressed in all black, with my hood up. Ignoring commands from the police, I kept cycling until they chased me. Looking suspicious, they searched me against a wall daily. Drifting from one day to another, there was not a whole lot to do.

  The hostel was on the main road for all the busses that headed straight to Chris’s house. Feeling bored, I went up to see him for a few hours. On the way back, I caught the 113 because it went past Louise’s crescent. My life was never the same after what happened. The bus approached her stop. To my absolute amazement, she got on! Beating like a drum, my heart pounded like the very first time we met. Looking towards the road, it was best to not say anything. After paying, she sat near the back. What a bad idea taking that bus route; or maybe it was fate. A moment later I accepted her actions and took a deep breath. Sitting separately on the bus without acknowledging each other, was like the time before we started talking. The bus stopped near town when she stood up to get off. She whispered in my left ear, causing me to jump out of my skin!

  “I still love you…”

  Taking a deep gulp looking at the floor as she said it, she jumped off. I quickly followed behind her before the bus drove off.

  “Louise, wait.”

  “I can’t stop, I have to be at a tribunal.”

  “Can I walk with you?”

  “Yeah, if you want.”

  Three months had passed, when my heart was starting to physically hurt.

  “I miss you so much Louise, it's killing me.”

  “I miss you too, but we just can’t be together anymore. You don’t have anywhere to live, and my family won’t let me see you.”

  The walk was only half a mile. The subject changed to something happier for one last time. I knew once we arrived, it would be the last time we would ever see each other.

  “Can I hold your hand for one last time, I cheekily asked.”

  Smiling back at me, she said yes. Hand in hand, her touch drained away any pain. It was sad how everything turned out, but those few minutes made up for every fight and argument we ever had. I cherished that walk before reaching a red fence. She turned to give me a hug goodbye.

  “Louise, kiss me one last time like you did when we first met.”

  Slowly pulling her head back brushing her sweet blonde hair against my cheek, we kissed with swirling tongues on the corner of Geoffrey street like we were the only two people on the planet. Opening my eyes, she was gone forever. My arms fell to my side for one last time. The months that followed became unbearable. Seeing a doctor was pointless; all the stitches in the world couldn’t sew my heart back together.

  Drinking every day in my room away from the staff, two new lads had moved onto my floor. One of them had attended my first high school the year below. Everyone knew him for being gay. The top floor was narrow, and we had to share the same lounge, making it hard to avoid him. He seemed harmless enough though. One weekend, a few of us decided to get together for a drink, once we sneaked alcohol past the staff. Buying half a litre of Brandy, the gay lad kindly bought it just for me. Being too young to sense any agenda that someone may have, it didn’t occur to me why he spent £15 on me. The four of us had a laugh getting totally wasted without the staff even noticing. Drinking the whole bottle to myself from the pain inside, I was utterly wasted by midnight. Sat on the sofa, I must have passed out from drinking too much shortly after my housemates went back to their rooms. The next time I gained consciousness, I was lying in bed on my back looking up at the ceiling. My head felt like a boulder, leaving me unable to lift it up. My arms and legs became unresponsive. Looking down towards my feet, I could see the gay lad in my room at the end of my bed. The dirty fucking bastard was performing oral sex on me. His real plan was abruptly revealed. With my arms by my side, it was impossible to move my hands towards my chest. From the neck down I was paralysed. Not knowing if I had been spiked, or just very drunk, I was horrified at what he was doing. I mumbled to him to stop. He laughed as if it was a joke telling me its OK. Getting his dick out, he started
to play with himself at the same time. Lying helpless, there was nothing I could do. The thought of being raped entered my mind, but he never did. He left the room at some point after slipping back into unconsciousness. The next morning, I woke up in the same position with my pants back around my waist. An image of what happened quickly popped into my head. Was it a nightmare, I wondered? Having such a bad hangover, I knew it wasn’t a bad dream. The first thing I did was get in the shower. Being straight, my body felt filthy. For twenty minutes, I sat on the shower floor curled in a bowl with shock. That was the most vulnerable feeling I ever experienced. It wasn’t easy to talk about it, but I told the other lad that lived next to me, that same day.

  “Mate, you have to go to the police and tell them.”

  “I can’t. Do you know how embarrassing that will be, once the kind of people I know find out? My brother already calls me a puff and a faggot in front of his friends. I’d never hear the last of it if this went public.”

  Later that day, two men in suits called me into an empty room by the staff room. I freaked out thinking I had done something wrong.

  “Hello Joseph, we’re CID officers from the police station. Don’t worry, you are not in any trouble. We are here about a complaint made by a friend of yours. We believe you were sexually assaulted late last night, is that true?”

  Jesus Christ, I told him not to call the police. For the next half hour, I explained exactly what happened. He was arrested that night, losing his place at the hostel. A few days later I dropped the charges. My old friends practically lived in the Magistrates court. There was no way on earth I was taking the stand against him. Like Steven Wilding, he denied everything. My life and reputation would never be the same. Not to mention being classed as a grass. Being a snitch where I’m from was like telling a Muslim to burn the Quran. The matter would be dealt with out of court once I caught him, with the knife I started to carry.

  No matter what I did, evil always found a way to attack me. Swinging blindly in the dark, spirits could not always be fought off with bare hands. It was time to arm myself before the hunter became the hunted. Truth is, I’d been hunted all my life.

  Ending up in a temporary relationship with the two girls from the hostel, I wanted to forget the dirty feeling after being assaulted. Up to now, the year had been awful. A new Halloween movie had come out at the cinema, which was probably not the best time for any more bad influence. Not missing the chance to watch my favourite franchise, I took one of my girlfriends on a date. Too much bad was happening. It was time to go out for once. Not remember the last time I went out; my mood was positive. After buying some popcorn, we sat down near the back. John Carpenter's Halloween theme kicked in as two lads walked past us looking for a seat. Kirsty and I looked at each other in disbelief. The bastard that assaulted me walked right past me with his boyfriend and sat down. Blood boiled from inside me throughout the movie. Every time Michael Myers killed a victim, I envisioned doing the same.

  “Calm down, don’t let them get to you Joseph.”

  “Calm down? I want to kill him.”

  Half of the movie I spent staring at the back of his head, planning what to do outside. He was lucky I didn’t have a knife on me. Films had such a significant influence on my mental state, ever since I was a child. It was an escape for me, to imagine being someone else. To bump into him with a knife, while watching Halloween at the same time, would have ended with me approaching him from behind, and stabbing him to death in his seat. After the movie finished, we stayed in our place to let him know we were there. Once we got outside, they were both sat on the metal railing around the side of the cinema. Getting closer to him, he knew what I was going to do before I did it. Leaning his head to the right, my left punch flew over the top of him. All three of them shouted for me to stop while I lashed out. His six-foot-tall boyfriend tried to stop me, so I started to swing for him. Too tall for me to hit him, couples laughed at the fact that two lads bigger were running away to avoid my punches. The cowards ran off towards the docks begging for me to stop. He didn’t know how lucky he was that night. Neither did I. From the way things were going, prison was almost inevitable.

  After gradually getting kicked out of my hostel for breaking the house rules, a new associate from around the corner offered to let me move into his new flat. Knowing him as a getaway driver for one of the brother’s that maliciously attacked the group of Muslim kids, he seemed OK. The reason they kicked me out of the hostel was because I got caught in one of the girl's rooms. I’d gotten away with it for months. Sending one of the lads to distract the staff, he asked them to open the locked freezer downstairs. Due to the number of sticky-fingered thieves, the freezer had to be locked at all times. Once downstairs, I ran from the top floor into one of the girl's rooms for the night. It all came to an end when the staff noticed how quiet I became, which was not like me at all. Thinking I could trust my new associate, I moved all my stuff into his empty flat. PlayStation 2, a TV and other valuable things I had built up that year, had all been stolen. He walked away from his new flat just to rob me. Even I knew there was no honour amongst thieves. By then, my anger was through the fucking roof! I felt like a buffalo surrounded by hyenas. Each time my back was turned, some twat was taking advantage of me. Later that night, I drank half a bottle of vodka with the plan to cause as much destruction as possible. Armed with a metal bar, I kicked the door down to look for the bastard that just robbed me. Knowing he was long gone, I smashed every one of his windows from the inside. Being so cunning, I could see flashing police lights bounce off a wall as they approached. Throwing the metal bar into the long grass, I stood opposite the flat inconspicuously as a spectator. The police ran straight past me to search inside, leaving the police car unattended. An idea to jump in and drive off had entered my mind. Running towards the police car, I took a sharp right deciding to leave it. My next stop was the hostel I’d just left. Knocking on the big green door, the first person to answer was about to be on the receiving end of my fury. It was Kirsty that answered. For no reason, I dragged her outside against the staff room window. Out of pure rage, I tried to push her head through the window. Resisting me the best she could, I dragged her to the front door. Now on top of her, I grabbed her hair, bouncing her head off the floor. Completely out of control, Brian, my favourite staff member had to strangle me to get me off. That was the last thing I remembered. The following morning, I woke up in some random girl’s bed in the same hostel Chris lived in with his pregnant girlfriend. Within seconds of sitting up to look out of the window, a copper was walking up the street. He arrested me for the path of destruction. Apparently, I caused havoc in town after attacking Kirsty. Guilt stayed with me for what I did to her. With no excuses or condoning what I did, seventeen years of shite lead to that one night of destruction. It was fortunate I didn’t kill anyone. Everyone was my enemy out for their own agenda. It was dog-eat-dog. Becoming paranoid from weed, my mum tormenting me for fun, and the pressure to survive, I found myself at boiling point. With no reasoning or understanding of what was happening to me, weeks later on a Saturday night, I walked into town towards drunk revellers with an eight-inch kitchen knife down my pants. Two drunken men sat on a bench eating chips. It was busy with people everywhere.

  “What the fuck are you looking at?”

  “Nothing mate, we’re just sitting here.”

  Lifting my jacket up, I showed him the knife down my pants.

  “I’ll fucking stab you ya prick, what the fuck are you looking at?”

  Lifting their hands up in the air, pleading with me, I felt a sense of control over my life again instead of being walked on. The thought of anyone trying to take advantage enraged me. No one will ever fuck with me again. That night was about making a clear statement. My mum didn’t get away with it, and neither will anyone else. Inside I was bleeding to death from my heart, becoming something I’m not; a bad person. My complexion reflected that of my mum and dad more and more. Maybe going with the flow was not such a good idea
.

  After failing to attend court for my path of destruction, a warrant was out for my arrest. One of my long-serving friends off the estate was up in crown court for carjacking a Mercedes with another lad, then taking police chase all the way to Scotland in a six-hour pursuit. I say, friend, because he had good parents, and the whole crime was down to another idiot. We shared the same fate getting into trouble, due to unfortunate circumstances. Place us both in a good environment from birth, and you can guarantee we would turn out good. People like him and me were the last ones to take part in crime. Coming up to eighteen, the rest of the lads began to sell drugs, moving up to armed robbery. What they wanted, they took. Being betrayed by his friend like I was, there was only a selected few with principles. He got eighteen months in prison. Down in manpower by over seventy percent, most of my estate was in jail. Talking to him down in the cells with his mum, I told him I’m coming with him. He laughed knowing what a crazy bastard I was. Two days later, I approached a copper in town to check if I had a warrant; which obviously I did. Standing before a judge the following day, I asked him to refuse bail, and to send me to prison. He looked extremely baffled.