A stolen childhood

A story about a a stolen childhood full of hurt, violence and sadness.

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1. 1. Dad

I picked up a piece for the huge puzzle forming on the floor. Mummy nodded as i put the piece in the right place.

Suddenly there was someone screaming for Mummy, and she left me. She didn't come back for so long, so i started to shout. When she still didn't come i ran down the stairs shouting at her, but i stopped dead in my path. Flashing, blue lights. A huddle of people beside the large yellow ambulance. What's happening? Why will no-one talk to me?!

I walk past the group of people, and my Daddy is there, lying on the floor with things attached to him and people shouting at eachother.

Someone takes my shoulders and takes me away. I don't understand what is happening. Mummy walks into the room, tear strained, blotchy, red face. Her eyes are glassy and she looks as if she is going to collapse. As she slumps down on the sofa beside me I ask her if she wants some of the sweets that have just been given to me. All she has the strength to do is shake her head.

I don't understand! Why is everyone so upset, and where is my Daddy?

It is my Daddy's funeral the next day.. but i didn't understand this at the time. I was dressed in a yellow pollo shirt with my best blue dungarees over the top. I also had a backpack with all my games and toys in it. My little brother Glenn and I were running about with daffodils having fun around the cemetry, not understanding anything or why everyone was so upset.

I was only 3.

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