The War zone

I have some fond memories of childhood but more bad ones than good. I hope to detail some of them here. When I mentioned in a previous blog of the violence within the household, it was more like a war zone. One such memory was of my mother, AKA Piggy, cowering in the bathroom after one of Donkeys beatings, he had thrown her to the floor, kicked her in the stomach and punched her in the nose. When I went to comfort her, she was in tears, had a bloody nose sat in the bathroom of the two bedroomed flat in Selly Oak. Shortly after I asked if she was ok, to then be dragged away from her to be beaten in my room. I called the police and they turned up to be sugar coated by Donkey and sent away. That was the start of another beating after they left the flat. Another such memory is Donkey locking me in my room after nearly breaking my leg. He had thrown me on to my bunk bed and repeatedly slapped the bottom of my leg, it left bruises that were so obvious when I went to school over the road from the flat. Yet even after all this violence,  two children already removed, a history of abuse and neglect… Nothing was done. Mum was eventually diagnosed with munchowseins, where she would hurt her children for attention. this resulted in a near death for Bounce, and a number of hospital trips for me. I remember the constant vomiting in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Looking back on it now I understand what was going on and for years Donkey had tryed to come up with excuses by saying things like he wasnt my real father and he had a shitty childhood as well. He also tryed to account for his actions by saying that his parents were abusive and did things to him. Since when is that  reason to do the things he did! Its not reason at all and the fact he tried to justify himself to me just amplifys the fact he is a manipulative peice of shit.