The drive home didn’t take nearly long enough; all too soon we were pulling up outside the house. The front door was open, the hall light was on and my parents were waiting on the doorstep.
I was clearly in no state to make a run for it so being escorted down the path with a policeman holding each arm was obviously intended to intimidate; I was pretty sure that I spotted curtains twitching at the neighbouring houses
Neither of my parents spoke, just stood aside so I could be taken into the house and then closed the front door before leading the way into the living room.
The policemen finally let go of me and I stood there trying to look like a defiant 16 year old. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror over the fireplace I saw a frightened kid looking about 14, 15 if you were feeling generous.
Dad wanted to talk to the police in private so Mum led me into the kitchen to attend to the needs of the body. I could barely put weight on my left leg and was shivering. Once she’d installed me next to the Rayburn she pointedly locked the back door and took the key out.
I had to take my jeans off for her to look at my knee, they were tight anyway and with the swelling there was no chance of rolling them up. There’s little dignity to be had just wearing underpants while your Mum tells you off for damaging yourself through sheer childish stupidity.
The knee wasn’t good, at least twice the size it should have been and I could hardly bend it. After my parents had finished with me I was going to be having an uncomfortable session with the doctor, chaperoned of course.
I tried desperately to apologise but Mum just gave me a pitying look and said that matters were out of her hands, she’d never seen Dad so angry. Now genuinely frightened I took refuge in tears.
It was well over an hour before the kitchen door opened and Dad brought the policemen in for my apology which I duly gave. As they were leaving the Sergeant gave me a fierce look and said “I don’t ever want to hear your name on my radio again, Malcolm understand?” I nodded and said sorry again.
Mum had never seen Dad so angry? I’d never seen him so angry and in the 4 years he’d been trying to do the impossible job of controlling me most of his anger had been aimed at me.
He shouted and shouted asking questions but not giving me a chance to answer and then finished up with “I’m seriously thinking of sending you to a boarding school, do you want that to happen?”
Finally getting a word in I screamed “Yes!”, boarding school had been my dream while I was being systematically abused almost every weekend and anything that got me out of the nightmare of that school now had to be an improvement.
Mum looked shocked then asked then asked why I wanted to get away from home so much. I tried to explain that it wasn’t home I wanted to leave, just that awful school but without all the facts I knew I sounded completely unconvincing.
I couldn’t tell her about the abuse, the bullying or my struggle with my sexual identity. For better or for worse I’d chosen secrecy on all those issues and that couldn’t change. Bringing information like that to the table at such a late stage would have started a whole new chain of events that I couldn’t deal with.
In the absence of that information all Dad was left with was my stupid overreaction to the disappointment over Dartington. Over an hour went by while he lectured me on the need to grow up and deal with life’s setbacks in a mature way.
Eventually he stopped and there was a strained silence before he told me to go to bed, it was almost 3 in the morning and he was far too angry to risk punishing me now. His last words as Mum helped me out of the room were “but you are going to be punished, Malc” under the circumstances the diminutive form of my name hurt more than anything. He still wanted desperately to love me.
I’d never been faced with a delayed punishment before. Up until I was 12 Mum hadn’t had recourse to the “wait until your father gets home” threat, he’d vanished for good when I was 4. Before that he was hardly ever home anyway and when he appeared he was usually drunk. He’d give me arbitrary spankings, not because I’d done anything wrong but because he felt like it.
After Mum remarried she still dealt with me as soon as she found out that I’d done something that merited punishment. If Dad was home he got first crack of the whip, so to speak but Mum never flinched from the job otherwise.
In my 16 years I’d been punished a lot and usually in the traditional manner but it had always been done in anger. I’d never faced the chilling threat of either of them planning what I knew was going to be a memorable, painful and above all humiliating punishment.
Love
That would really have been the time to have run!
Not that running away again would have saved you – not when physical punishment was the norm for boys at home, at school and in any reformatory. You still had two years to go (minimum) before the law would help you in the slightest degree.
If I’d run again he’d have had me made a Ward of Court in an instant. On a physical level a second break was simply impossible, I really had made a horrible mess of my knee.
I can remember my step father locking him self in the garage with his tools and cars. He would stay there for hours. My mom said he did it to avoid hurting me. Too bad we did not have a garage early enough. I knew both instant and delayed hurt. I preferred the delayed myself, it gave me time to put my mind else where. I had no such shield with the instant angry attacks and it produced such fear, to be so easily overwhelmed…..
Maybe that is why I react so harshly and feel so deeply for you when you write about being made to take you pants down and having a belt taken to your backside. Thankfully it was only your backside and before this incident you did not have to be afraid at home.
Also it must have given you some comfort to know your mother was able to intercede for you. I think she must have been a wonderful and strong woman. I think she could have and would have stopped your step father from causing you real harm.
Many hugs, and dream free nights,
Scottie
I think that your situation was in many ways worse. Dad only ever hit me as punishment for specific wrongdoing, never just at random because ge was angry at something or somebody else. That had been something my biological father did but Mum kicked him out when I was 4. I think you’re right, the worst aspect of violence against children is that it’s so easy to win, the child has no real defence and is so easily overpowered.
What upset my parents so much, apart from the fact that by law I was theirs until I was 18, was the fact that I genuinely did try to run away, I meant to get as far away as possible and disappear for ever.
The education side was an absolute priority, I was staying at school until I was 18 and that was an end to it. If they’d been able to they would have forced me to go on to university but with the age of majority being brought down to 18 from 21 they couldn’t keep any control over my life after school.
Mum’s intercession really was a saving, the school Dad had in mind would have broken me in ways that might not have been repairable, not just physically.
Love
Mac
Hello Mac. I have just finished catching up on the whole story. I guess I am still at a loss over the severe reaction of your mom and step dad. You were after all 16 years old. Surly the threat of being taken away by your father were now passed being able to happen. So you left the house by a window and after an argument. This happened a lot in my area when one was a teenager, and the parents did not seem too upset by it.
I am glad your parents wanted you to have an education. Mine were just the opposite. School was only to be gotten through, for several years my step father forbid me to have books. My parents both never finished school. My encouragement came from other adults I knew. When the Local large farm owner paid to have me sent to private school it was the first real push for me to learn, the first I had ever had a thought to higher education.
Today I strongly encourage all ages to keep going to school. Take classes.
Hugs and warm thoughts,
Scottie