Innocently judged

A scream is what wakes me up in the middle of the night. I know what is happening and therefore I push my pillow over my head, I do not want to hear this! It is so horrible. The screaming continues and I hum for myself, softly at first but louder as the screams blend with moans. There are two different voices, one so terrified that it strikes my heart, the other full of pleasure. 1

I hate to tell you this but my Father rapes my mother every once in a while, I've gotten used to it by now. There is not much else I can do. They are married, he can easily claim that it happens with her consent. Mother hasn't gotten used to it though, she stills screams like she did the first time. Or so father says when he gloates.2

He brags about his acomplishments and when I throw up because of it he gets mad. That is when he beats me.3

My father is not a nice man, but me and mother have to stay here, we have no money on our own. Mother is depressed. She is always so sad, or scared. It depends on where she is and when.4

I'm saving up money though, I have been for quite some time, but there is only so much I can do. I am only fifteen for heavens sake. I can not get a real job so I have a job that gives me a small pay check, only problem is that father takes those. I have a second job though, illegal but it gives money. I sell drugs, I use them as well, but only in nights as these. When I can hear my mother's screams and my fathers sickening pleasure. 5

I slowly get up from the bed, walk over to the other side of my black painted room and open the warderobe door. There lies my treasure, my way of shutting out what happens, I wish I did not have to do this but I can not live with hearing these noises.6

I smoke my drugs, that is the easiest way of getting them in without having a physical sign of my drug use. Unlike other addicts I know that what I'm doing is wrong. I know, but I can't care anymore. Why care? 7

I light the joint and move over to the door that leads out onto the rooftop, my balcony. Yes, I am a spoilt brat as most would call me. My father is a rich man, what more can a kid want right?8

Wrong!9

I don't care about fucking money, all I want is a small cosy home for me and mum where we can get away from all this shit! Ok, I may care a little about the money, how else would I get a hold of drugs?10

I take a drag and feel the smoke fill me, a couple of months ago this would have made me cough terribly but not anymore. I'm used to it now, as everything else.11

While I smoke I realise I can not hear the sound of screaming anymore, that makes me scared, it usually takes longer than this. I shrug it off as me being to high to understand how much time has gone by and go to bed again. I fall asleep pretty quickly and I have the strangest dreams, I can not tell you about them because they disappear as soon as I wake up. I have no clear memory of what has happened. Exactly as I want it.12

I walk down into the kitchen, walk over to the fridge and take out butter, milk, cheese and eggs, then I walk over to a cabinet and get the bread and then I walk over to another cabinet and get the glasses and the plates and equipment I need. 13

When I am done I call for my father and he comes into the kitchen wearing a smirk, telling me we need only two plates today. I feel my insides turn over as I see his smirk. I back away from him quickly, running up the stairs and into my mother's bedroom. When I get through the door I see something I wish no one would ever have to see.14

My mother, my sweet, darling mother lies on her bed, completely pale. I understand then that she is dead, but I don't know what is the cause as I cannot see any wounds. Then I remember something, her sheets were not the dark redish brown they now were. I numbly think she has to have a wound on her back.15

I back away, I cannot seem to get my mind to co-operate and I notice that it is too late, because my father is already there, and he has a police officer with him. 16

Without knowing what is going on I'm being led to a car outside, I'm being forced into the backseat and something is plucked from my hand. 17

I will not understand that it is a knife until later, much later. Too late.18

The man leading me is a police officer and I'm being accused of the murder of my Mother. May father acts like the grieving husband he is supposed to be and he looks over at me with disbelief, at least that is what I think the police officer is seeing because he is trying to comfort my father with meaningless words, I however see that those eyes show nothing but the cold satisfaction of getting rid of both my mother and me. He can now use the money as he wishes. I have no chance to prove my innocence now, who would believe a boy like me over the influential, powerful politician that is my father.19

At the station I am asked what happened at my house but since I do not know they assume I am lying and therefore decide that I am guilty. 20

I am still so shocked that I cannot hear a word they are saying. My mind hears it and I can probably look back and know what they said but for now my mind is trying to comprehend the fact that my mother is gone. Forever.21

I'm put into prison after a short and useless trial, every judge and all members of the jury had decided long before I got there that the evidence was not worth as much as their jobs. 22

Now I'm sitting here. In my cell. I have been here for quite a while. I read the newspapers every day. I have seen every time My father has remarried and every time a new victim has come, the victim is always his new wife and the murderer is always either his wife's children or if there are none a burglar or kidnapper trying to blackmail him.23

Only I care for the truth and it makes me upset that I cannot do anthing about it. I disappear further and further from reality. I have a friend in my cell, his name is Merry, I find it a very ironic name as he is anything but merry. But Merry is his name and I just love to cuddle with him. I speak to him and sometimes he answers even though he is only a rat. 24

He likes to insult me but I do not care. He is there and he tells me the truth. I murdered my mother, I held a knife in my hand and I had blood on my hands, and I let her be raped. They probably didn't even check for that.25

It's all my fault, all my fault. I cannot do this anymore. 26

I fetch my tie that I'm supposed to wear for tomorrow when I'm being tried again, sloppy guards, they do not care if I hang myself or not. They probably put it here on purpose.27

Oh well. It comes in handy now.28

Good bye father. I hope you like my suprise.29

(Article in newspaper)30

Famous politician dead!31

Yesterday morning a famous politician was found dead in his home. Many know him as the man who has lost ten wife's in the last fifteen years, one to his own son and the rest to step sons and stepdaughters.32

He seems to have been poisoned but no one knows by what. The police have found traces of a poison in a letter sent from his first son who was sent to prison as a fifteen-year-old, fifteen years ago.33

Said son was found dead in his cell, hanging from the roof in his tie early this morning.34

Said tie should not have been in his room and the prison is investigating who gave it to him.35

More on the family, page five36

More on the victims and murerers, page six37

More detail on the whole story, page seven38

article by, Miss Helen Taylor