Is It Incest?

My body tingled with the pain and the pain would not go away. That I a Tom boy had somehow been hurt and by a man made me mad. I mean really mad. I had always been able to take care of myself in that manner. That is that. I am that. This thing on that bed without anything without someone without the thoughtfulness of being a almost done for at nine and that is I. Why did it matter to me to be in bed with this sore inside and somehow been hurt harmed by my own dad? That he almost gloated afterwards and he did hurt me I had not been as usual hospitalised that he had done that he had done something made me mad. That I could never be asked to perjure myself and tell a court and that he had done me in. I did not like this? I did not even care what I did afterwards I was going to get even.

"If anyone asks her to marry her then they will die."

"Let her die an old maid."

So no one asked me out when the man and the man had fled the scene.

Men were afraid of me. Not I of them and now the disaster happened to me somehow someone had hurt me and I had no idea what and why I could not hurt them. I went to the dictionary and saw as mean as a arrow fratricide. That meant that someone was a dad who had hurt me. Went to the doctor and the doctor looked grave at ma and said if it happened again there was nothing he could do. I was not a mean child I thought I would die but he meant I would be taken away from the house and placed somewhere safe but the cars ma the cars they would come and take me from the shelter.

I fell into a semi comatic state. Let her rest he said and let her be and let the child in her recover. Leave her asked mother but I need her to do the work? The work shall wait this child is it so unimportant to you that you would risk losing her? Mother licked her lips and said of course I was important everyone of her children were.

But we were not her children I thought as I lay asleep and that mattered less and less whoever looks after you is important not the one who louses you up. A man who can do such a thing is not my dad. He is not my dad he is a greed and insanity and I hated him. My nerves had to be relaxed more cordial to make me sleep.

Myself is this I thought is this I who now sleep like a sack of potatoes unable to lift myself up and the soup which my siblings gave me tasted so sweet mother would not come near me insisting that if she did I would die.

Left alone left again this is what she was. She could not be that superstitious as to see nothing but herself. I needed her I just needed her. I did not cry I just yelled and fell asleep.

Where is mother is the question whatever happened to mother?? My sisters gave me more of the soup and then laughed at me as I tried to drink it. Damn stuff I said one time but it seem to do something I had to learn to cook. I had to teach them to cook as well it is very unhealthy having such a soup as that.

The oil sent shivers and there was somehow a bone or two which I just ate and spit.

"It is lamb." she said in a gentle manner my sister B.

"Ouch luck as it happens it is not chicken."

"You know mother hates chicken soup except from tins?" B said hopefully. Tins were safer.

"No you don't open tins."

"I do I have." she said proudly. She at four years old was older than me. I did not want to see I was twelve and she was calmly doing the job. I just did not want to seem ungrateful but she was not going to be the next one. I forbad it I would not allow such behaviour to happen to a woman let alone a sister. She was going to have a proper childhood upbringing all that I could make happen would.

She had swindled or wheedled me round to her way of thinking she got me beside her behind her to do her bidding. I was willing to do so. Because I was able to be her older sister back than. She was never a nice woman but she tried to look the part. She just had to because it meant she could take and get what she asked and much more.

She said outright she needed a childhood she too was harrowingly near something and we had to help each other we had to protect each other because the rapist the bagman would bag us all like chicks and throw us to the wolves.

I had dark hair and some chin and there was a fatness about me which makes everyone still comfortable. I was aging fast and there did not seem to be any sexuality about me. I was as if someone not important in that department like some departure lodge where people went the moment they saw me to someone else. Someone more welcoming and with the agreeable words. The moment this happened to me I knew I had somehow been cursed and this mattered who had done me such a curse? I had forever been a virgin maybe I thought the time had come to show up in some sex?

But never I said to myself this would mean having the off chance Abdul about trying to get into the bed and the man my man was not awake yet. What do we wake with him the sleeping beauty? I was trying to make sense of it all. How to do it gently how to make him so awake as if his senses would become like they were and this mattered? Of course but for now he was drunk on life. His perfect life with the perfection his wife. Is life not so perfect?

I am like a pin cushion which everyone wants to pin down. I am known as this dumpy personality who would go happily to do a turn. I am a little clever and a little like a ordinary woman who has not much on her mind but to clean the house. I do a lot of thsi and this makes me happy. I am known for my good deeds.

I am this good woman who is the most boring woman on earth. Like me or love me there is nothing I can do about this. I do not change for some small change or even for the big chance. I love being this waif but now no more about this. This is the small things which matter the dust on the fan the little book which I had not read and the small deeds left not done for some time I had been doing the research into writing the small matters outstanding.

I was in London at the time without much money and there did not seem to be a job that I could do. That I had often been sacked and never rehired. The jobs were always for some other person. But now there is plenty of time to do them. The thing is when a woman has a grudge against the world the whole of society and then the richer of the species then that makes her life more interesting- I support myself in all this.

There is some machine going round and round inside us all trying to self destruct I felt it was true and this machine which Freud called the death wish made us do so many bizarre deeds. I had such a wish list of dead and gones and begone and let it not happen to me. I do not want to commit a crime any crime and this is what he does to me. He plays a practical joke and I write his obituary.