It's My Life, (A short History)Part1

I thought I'd tell you one of those "It's a long story ", story's.

I am a the product of a very middle class family, that had skeletons in it's cupboards,( oh hell yeah, we had a whole bloody graveyard full).
I'm the youngest of 6. I had three brothers, two sisters, an uncaring mother and a violent, abusive farther. I never saw my dad hit any of the rest of my family, just me,( I may need a violin for the next bit). He'd hit me with any thing that came to hand, a stick, a shoe, a belt, And if nothing came to hand there was always the good old fist in the side of the head. The last time he hit me was with a can of beans, More, about that later.
My brothers emulated his behavior towards me, I took quite a few nasty beating off of them, up until the point I could give them back as good,(Or as bad), as I got. I was 7 when they realised they could put me down, but I wouldn't quit an being only 7 I fought like a cornered rat.(pull hair, scratch, bite, Gouge kick, up close and nasty). after that My dear brothers acted like my mother and sisters,and ignored me.


This is how it went on for 3 more years. regular poundings from my daddy, and being excluded by every other family member. To spite him I would never cry, he could hit me as hard as he wanted to, but I wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction. This was Normal,(with a capitol N even ), family life to me.


The one time I told someone about what my dad did to me, was when I was 10 a PE teacher at school, asked me where I got the bruising .all down my back. So I told him,( my dad had taken using his belt on me).
He informed social services. I didnt know this until a few days later a social worker came came to call. Talk about happy family's.

Two weeks later....A social workers report ......
"..... The child is a liar, He makes up story's, He's careless, Clumsy, Sullen, "why I wouldn't put it passed him to have thrown himself down the stairs." (that was the family explanation for the bruises) ,We never saw or heard nothing, ect ,ect "
Was basically what the social workers report said.

My dad saw that as his cue to, (In his words,) "Teach(POW),You(Thwak) Not(Thunk), To(Bash).Drag.Outsiders(SPLAT). Into. Family . Matters.(KERPOWIE)", and he punctuated his words with the previously mentioned baked bean tin.
I dont clearly remember happened next Whether this was down to the blow on the head I had just got, or the fact I blew a fuse.
I do know I lost it big time. Red mist is the best way to describe it. The next thing I do clearly remember is my two oldest brothers struggling with me trying very hard to restrain me, and remove a cricket bat from. My Farther was sitting on the floor across the other side of the room, his noes all over his face looking totally shocked.
What I'm told happened is I headbutted him, then shoved him across the room where he fell against the wall. Then according to my brothers, I picked up the cricket bat and went for him
(Charge) and proceeded to give him 10 yrs worth of poundings. The one thing I do remember is Shouting over and over "You touch me again and your dead!" I know I meant it, and so did he. The look on his face was one of fear.
It's a shames to say, But for a long time I thought of that look on his face as my happiest childhood memory, (I dont now)

The upshot of this was When that school year ended, Having passed my 11+ with a passing mark that was in the top 5% for that year, in the City we lived in, (not bad for a worthless, brainless Idiot) I was destined to go to a grammar school, but my parents decided that I would be sent to a boarding school instead.

(Cont in part2) (if you wish to comment do it under Part 3)