Authors: D. G Torrens
9.)
If you run away, you will be brought back straight away and all privileges such as pocket money
will be suspended;
you will have your shoes and socks taken away only to be returned when you attend school.
All things consider
ed this sounded just fine to me. A
ll I kept thinking about was the £1.10 pence pocket money that I woul
d receive each Saturday morning.
T
his was an immense amount of money to me
,
not to mention I had neve
r received pocket money before. I
n fact
,
I had never had my own money at all. I was
asked if I had any questions, but I shook my
head to in
dicating I did not.
Gary
then
took me into the main area to meet the other children.
Unfortunately, there was one girl
I immediately disliked. H
er
name was Glenda. She was huge,
the size of a
bear. S
he looked at me with
evil eyes and made faces at me.
She was much older,
about
thirteen years old at least, and to nine-year-
old
me,
Glenda was a towering figure. I knew from that day forward she was not going to make my life an easy one at all. The days that followed proved
that
my original feelings regards Gle
nda were correct: she was,
in simple terms, a bully
,
and I was her new target much to the delight of the other children as they were given a reprieve.
I spent most of my
time dodging her fist. I was al
ways running to one member of staff or another
,
but they did not do anything. In
fact
,
I think one or two
of them were frightened of her.
It was Glenda
who
had made life difficult in this home
,
and I was pushed to the point that it was time to run away. I waited until all the staff were asle
ep
and sat patiently for the night watchmen to do the
ir rounds.
T
hen I just got dressed and sn
eaked
out
of the downstairs toilet window.
I ran until I could run no more, having no idea what time it was, just that it was very late. I chose my direction
and followed the lights toward
the town.
It wasn’t long before a police car pulled up
alongside
me and told me to get in. Boy was I in trouble
.
T
hey returned me to Breeton House and I was berated on my arrival, with the staff taking a new at
titude toward
me. They decided to teach me a lesson and put me in a room with the very girl who was bullying me. I tried to explain why I had run
away
,
but it was to no avail
.
They were not interested, and
I was told to conform or I would make life very difficult for myself.
All my privileges were revoked
:
no pocket m
oney, no day trips on Saturdays,
and no shoes
or socks. No one ever listened;
they asked
why I ran away, and I tried
to explain
my
reasons to them, and then
I was
punished for telling tales. This
did not make sense to me at all.
I was to learn very quickly that it was best to keep things to yourself; a child in care was not easily believed. It was very hard to prove your case when you were met with so much resistance from the very people who were there to protect
y
ou.
For the next few days I just kept my head down in the grave hope I went unnoticed by everyon
e. I guess this was my reality.
I had to get used to a whole new set of rules known now
here other than the care system.
I was now just a number to be counted every morning
and counted in every evening. T
his was
to
ensure all children were present and correct and no one was missing.
Breeton House was not so bad as far as children’s hom
es were concerned.
T
his pla
ce could have been a lot worse; it was just one or two
of its occupants that made life
for me quite difficult at times.
B
ut the longer I was there
,
the more confident I became
,
and the more friends and allies I made. I started to learn how to stand up fo
r myself.
Glenda got bor
e
d of me and soon moved on to her next poor victim. I was to find out later that most of the other younger girls had been through the same ordeal with her and the staff just turned a blind eye.
I was now sharing a dormitory with four other girls w
ith whom I had become friends. W
e were always running around Breeton House playing hide and seek.
T
hen, one day I passed Glenda on the stairs
,
and she started calling
me horrible names, so I shouted back
,
“
Fatty!
”
then ran for my life. She chased me all around the house until she caught up with me
on the winding stone staircase.
S
he wasted no time in grabbing me by the hair and smashing my head down into the corner of the step
,
which had metal clips on each corner. I passed out immediately
,
and Glenda ran off scared at what she had done.
The next thing I remember was
being lifted into an ambulance. I was in hospital for
two
days, with five stitches to the top of my right eye in my brow line. My face was swollen and turning black an
d blue from the severe bruising, and
I was u
nable to open my eye for a week.
T
he doctors said if the cut was just a little deeper I would have been blinded in that eye. My mother was informed
, and she came to visit me while
I was in hospital
. Social Services
had agreed to let me go on a home visit for a couple of days to see my siblings as I had missed them so much.
I thought to myself
that
it was almost worth having lost an eye just to see them again. During my home visit
,
my mother was quite pleasant
.
S
he was sympathetic and said that I would be allowed home soon
,
all being well. When Jake and I were alone he started crying
,
holding on to m
e as if his life depended on it.
“Amelia
,
it’s been so
hard while you have been away. S
he takes her bad moods out on me all the time, even Jenny and Susie are getting it now.”
I tried to reassure Jake that
I would take care of him once I was back home. I could not bear to see him like this; at least if I was home M
other was not so hard on him. I hated the thought of going back t
o Breeton House and leaving him.
I hugged him tightly and told him to keep out of her way as much as po
ssible, and do whatever she asked
of him. I promised Jake that on my return we would go to the old ruin again for the whole day.
I told my mother how much I missed being at home and how much I missed her
too, which was a lie.
I just wanted to be close to Jake so I could take care of him.
On my return to Breeton House
,
I was determined more than ever to have my c
ase reviewed in regards to going home.
I needed t
o be there for my siblings;
they needed me more than ever now. I went to see the head of the house, Gary
. He
was more than happy to give me some private time to hear me out. I asked him when I could go home
, as my mother wanted me back. “S
he’s changed, she’s
happier now,” I told him.
Gary advised me that
sending me home was
something they
were considering and they would
come back to me once they have spoken to my Social Worker.
Gary also advised me that the
p
olice and
my Social Worker
wanted to talk to me about my accident, that this was normal practice for their records. I was interrogated by the staff and
p
olice a
s to whom had done this to me.
I just said I had fallen down the stairs
,
as the thought of more problems at my door frightened me after Glenda’s attack. The police had to be called in
, as any injury to a child had
to be reported and investigated. On my return to Breeton House, the staff made a point of telling me how worried Glenda was about me and that she had been asking after me almost by t
he hour.
O
f course I knew why,
and
a short while later when I was alone in my room Glenda came in to see me
.
She asked if I had told anyone.
I said no,
and
she said she was really sorry and
had never meant to hurt me like
that
;
she just lost control. She begged me never to tell
,
and I promised to abide by her wish as long as she left
us all alone going forward. W
e had had enough of her.
Glenda changed after that
,
and the bullying stopped
, she knew full well she would have been removed from Breeton House if I had told the Social Worker and the Police what had really happened. S
he could not do enough for me and she actually became quite pleasa
nt to be around.
A
ll the other kids were a lot happier too
, so it seemed
my beating was not in v
a
in!
I spent
twelve
months in Breeton House, during which time I was attending a local all girl's school called Mount Pleasant School for Girls.
I was the only girl from Breeton House attending this school.
This was a great school
,
and I was
doing well,
above what was considered average for my age in English and
Math
. The teachers went on to say I could excel in these ar
eas and do well in future exams. However,
regular visits to Breeton House from my mother had started to disrupt my behavio
u
r again
.
She would arrive stinking of
alcohol, swearing
,
and screaming at me in front of everyone. This was just too much for me to
bear
and was not helping my case for
going
home at all.
I felt as if she was doing it on purpose so I would not be allowed home. It was always like this when I was
doing well at something too. It
was like she could not
bear
for me to be doing well at anything. She was the only person on this planet capable of stealing my confidence wit
h a few lashings of her tongue. H
er life’s mission seemed to be directed at making mine as miserable as possible. Why couldn’t she just be proud of me
,
put her ar
ms around me, and say I love you?
W
hy did everything have to be about her? It was so little to ask and so easy to give.
The decision was made to reduce her weekly visits to twice
monthly and this suited me fine.
I missed my siblings so much it hurt beyond belief,
and
I still needed to get home no matter how much I did not want
to
live with her. All I wanted was for her to love me and be proud of m
e. I
t was very little to ask
,
I thought. I started truanting from school shortly after
,
and my sub
jects were noticeably suffering.
I could not be
ar
to be t
he only child in the school who
did not go home to a family at the end of each school d
ay.
A
ll the parents would be gathered outside the school gates
,
arms wide open to greet their angels, and I was greeted by a member of staff checking their watch as they were coming to the end of the
ir
shift.
Despite having friends at the home, something was always missing
,
and I still felt like my life was a lonely and futile existence. I loved my school, but hated the fact
that
it was a constant
reminder of what I did not have
and made me long for it even more. I felt so different from all the other girls at my school, and all the other girls treated me like I was different, not in a bad way
,
just different. My life had been steeped in dram
a ever since I could remember—
a normal
,
quiet life
was
all I wanted.
One particular day on my arrival from school I saw an ambulance outside the ma
in entrance of Breeton House.
I watched as the medics hurriedly lifted a stretcher into the back, quickly closing the doors, but not before a female member of staff climbed in the back. All the other kids were talking about
Cindy;
s
he was probably the most mixed up child in the whole place (and there were many)
.
S
he had taken a razor blade to her wrists and had obviously been very serious about killing herself.