the truth

My mum dumped me to live with my dad when I was two years old.
I’m not an only child though, I have two brothers. One older. One younger.
She took them. And left me.

My dad was an unemployed drug addict/ schizophrenic/ hard drinking guy.
We hardly had any money, so we were always going to soup kitchens and charity lunches to survive.
When we did get money, he’d spend it on his habits.

This wasn’t all that bad, as long as I didn’t piss him off while he was high.
Which was almost all of the time...and it was almost impossible not to piss him off.
When he was angry, he’d get VERY angry very fast.
Probably all the drugs in his system.
So I’d endure the life of the punching bag,
and obtain a wonderful skin colour of black and blue... sometimes red.

I was about five, give or take a year when we ran out of money.

Getting food wasn’t too hard.
Getting his fix was.
And it didn’t take him too long to get desperate.
He needed money for his habit.
Money or a fair trade.
But he had nothing of value.
 Only me.

He “rented out” his own daughter to get what he needed.

And it wasn’t a one off thing.
I guess he figure that if it worked once, it was sure to work again.
and again and again.

Eventually he found other ways of getting money,
we’d hang out at Footscray Station and deal for other people.
We’d get part of the cut, but I was never sure how much that actually was.

But just because he had other ways of bringing money in,
it didn’t mean his “rental service” wasn’t shutting down anytime soon.

When I was about 10 he had a bunch of his “friends” over for a nonsense get together...
these get togethers were actually rather often now that I think about it...
I was in the other room trying to sleep when my dad called me,
I came in having no idea what he wanted me for.

He smiled and asked me to sit on the couch next to him,
they all smelt of cigarettes , beer and god knows what else.
I just sat there and smiled, trying to be polite
all the while working out what the hell he wanted me in there for.

He said something to his friends, and they all laughed.
Then I watched as one of the guys pulled out a syringe filled with a dark liquid,
I was told to stay still as my dad gripped my arm tightly to let my veins show.
They kept arguing as to how much they should let me try
I wanted to run away but I knew that would only result in my dad getting angry at me.

Finally, they put the needle into my arm and injected me with it.
From there all I remember is them laughing.
I was their entertainment for the night.

I woke up in hospital, apparently I should be dead.

It was claimed that I was found on the side of a road
bruises everywhere and a split lip.
Apparently I was also probably raped.

My dad got in trouble, his friends too.
Most of them are in jail for all sorts of reasons,
some are dead, some went to rehab, and some are still addicts.

My dad pleaded insanity
due to his schizophrenia and drug addiction.
He also claimed that he was a “good” father and that the “incident” was a one off.
It was easy to prove himself because he always pretended to be a good dad in the “public eye”.
He went to jail, for the duration of his rehabilitation.
So in other words, “enforced rehab”.
A bullshit verdict.

Me, I was whisked away to live with my mum...
atleast for a little while.

I didn't post this to have people feel sorry for me,
this is posted because I want people to know the truth.

Judge me.
Hate me.
Laugh.

I don't give a shit.