Ashes Of Roses

Ashes of Roses1

Ring-a-ring a roses, a pocket full of posies. Atissue! Atissue! We all fall down…I feel like a child again. Mom told me to sing, think of something nice, anything when she and dad were shouting. That was the first thing that came into my head. I never felt any better for it; it did not drown out the shouting. Or the screaming. Or the hitting. Or the breaking glass. The sound still resonated like a siren in my mind. It made me wonder, “Why is it my parents? Why not someone else?” I liked it when I was six, and seven. We were happy then, a proper family, we went on holidays, to the movies, everything. I’m Rohain by the way, we live in Sayersville, New Jersey. It was when I was eight everything went wrong. Dad went out to the pub for a few drinks with his mates, a birthday I think. He came back drunk, completely wasted, staggering and shouting. He walked through the door. Mom asked him if he had had a good time, he told her to shut up. I was confused, I had never seen Dad like this before, he was always such a nice man. My mom gave him a puzzled look and he screeched, “WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?” 2

Then he struck her for the first time, in front of me. I screamed at him to stop, I pounded my fists into his chest repeatedly but he struck me back to the floor…3

Over the next few months, Dad changed. He was no longer the kind, gentle man he had been. He was violent and aggressive. I would come home and if I was even a minute late, WHAM! I made sure I got home early after that. This carried on for a year, the hitting, the name-calling, the condescending. My mom was at breaking point, she had nowhere to go, she was too frightened to tell anyone, she knew what my Dad was capable of. The school noticed my bruises and became concerned. They called home and stated that there was a cause for concern for their son. My Dad put on his I’ve-done-nothing-wrong face and marched proudly to the school. 4

“We’ve noticed your daughter has quite a few bruises on her arms, neck face, legs and arms. Is everything alright at home?”5

He said everything was fine; she’s just a clumsy kid. Always bumping into things, falling over. Chair’s, a table…A fist… 6

“If there’s ever anything we can do to help, don’t hesitate to call back in.”7

He never went back. There were days when he wouldn’t let me go either. 8

“You’re stayin’ home today with your mother, I’m goin’ to the pub.”9

I did not dare answer back…10

When I reached nine years old, my mom got a sudden wake up call. She found the courage from nowhere to leave. She came into my room, tears running down her face,11

“I’m leaving sweetie, it’s not you, it’s Dad. I can’t stand it here another minute. Come with me, I can’t leave you here, I don’t know what he’ll do to you if I’m not here…”12

So we left, we didn’t take a thing with us. As soon as I was out of the door, I felt safe, as though a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, I felt like I could breathe again. We went back to Oklahoma to my mom’s apartment. She said,13

“Rohain, it’s over now…”14

It was not over, not by a long shot…15

No more than two weeks later, we got a call from the family solicitor. Dad was suing mom for abduction of a child and abandonment. The nerve! We battled through court; they wanted to put my best interests at heart. If they were, they would have let me live with mom. The decided it was better for me to live Dad because he could provide better education for me. I didn’t want to go to a private school; I wanted to go to a normal elementary school. Dad said I could do Latin and Contemporary Art at private school. Eventually he gave in and saw it my way, but it didn’t matter, I wasn’t happy. I wanted mom. I sat in my room, table against the door to allow a pre-emptive strike. I was looking at a picture of mom. I wasn’t a child that cried much, certainly not in front of anyone, only mom. I sighed as a tear rolled down my cheek. I felt so alone. Things just went downhill from then on…16

When I’d just turned eleven, Dad got a new girlfriend. I don’t know what possessed me, but I hated her. I felt like she was intruding, trying to take mom’s place. I didn’t want her, I wanted mom. I know now I was just covering up the real reason I didn’t want her there. At first, I thought she was only after our money. However, deep down I just didn’t want her to get involved with Dad, I knew it would be the same as when mom was there. It wouldn’t be long before he started on her. I tried at every opportunity to get him to hit me, just so she would escape, but he wouldn’t snap. It was not until he married her, that he snapped… 17

Just three days after their honeymoon, Dad went out to celebrate with friends. I backed to the wall and closed my eyes. I knew this was it. He came back as before, wasted. My step mom asked him if he had had a good time. He told her to shut up. I spoke to my step mom with urgency, 18

“Go upstairs, to bed talk to him in the morning, please…”19

She just gave me a puzzled look and turned back to my Dad, who was coming towards me. He said, “WHAT’S IT TO DO WITH YOU?” 20

Then he struck me hard over and over until everything went black. My step mom was frantic, she screamed at him to stop, pounding her fists repeatedly on his chest but he told her not to tell him what to do and not to do to his family. She replied,21

“You’ve just beaten up your own daughter!” 22

He hollered back at her that I deserved it and that I he wants to hit his family he will. That’s when he hit her. In front of me. He then stomped upstairs and I didn’t dare to move until I heard the bedroom door close behind him. My step mom wiped a tear from her eye. I put my arms around her and whispered with tears in my eyes,23

“Welcome to my hell…” 24

Ring-a-ring a roses, a pocket full of posies. Atissue! Atissue! We all fall down…Ring-a-ring a roses, a pocket full of posies. Atissue! Atissue! We all fall down…Every time he struck me, I fell. I’m sixteen now. I go to a normal school, new friends, same life. I stay at school as long as possible to avoid going home. I don’t want to go home anymore. I’m old enough to move out, but I have nowhere to go. I’m lost but I don’t know where to go. If I get up in the middle of the night, he’ll hit me all the way there, and all the way back. There’s only so much one person can take, and I’ve taken enough. It’s like a catch 22, I can’t get out. He demeans me, condescends me. He calls me stupid, says I can’t read and write because I’m dyslexic. I can, just not like others. It’s like reading Latin when you can’t understand it.25

You don’t know what it’s like to go home to that every day; the minutes seem like hours, the hours like years. I’m frightened to open the front door; I see visions of him whenever I close my eyes. I can’t walk around my own home without feeling like a prisoner. A prisoner, kept away from the light of day, exposed to only darkness. When I think of all the memories I have, my mind casts an austere shadow over everything. Just recently, I opened the door and closed it very quietly; I didn’t want to let him know I was home. Slowly, I put my head round the door to the living room. He was sat there reading the newspaper, and then he saw me. I darted round the door and froze solid, what was coming now? He came out and said,26

“Have you had a nice day at school Ro?”27

I was stunned; he had not said anything like that to me in over eight years. I replied yes I had. He smiled and walked into the kitchen as if he was feeling some sort of remorse. Did he regret what he had done? Was this a sign of change? Or was it just another sick and twisted trick? Would the old Dad return? Or would the acrimonious, callous one remain? 28

I felt a pang of anger; he was almost pretending that nothing had happened. Eight years of abuse had been erased from his memory. I went up to my room and called my friend. He would reassure me, he always did. Whenever I was feeling low, he would invite me round and would soon have me crying, but with laughter not pain. If it weren’t for him, and my other male friend, I probably wouldn’t have coped and done something stupid a long time ago. They kept me strong when I was weak. They called out to me when I was lost.29

He invited me over, so I crept downstairs and just as I was leaving, he stopped me. Oh no, I thought, my heart racing. 30

“Where are you going Ro?” 31

I replied out, to a friend’s house, I wouldn’t be late. 32

“Well why not bring her round here?”33

Once more, I was stunned; I had never had a friend round since I was seven. I told him it was a he and he smiled happily, almost warmly.34

“Ah, you got a boyfriend Ro? Well, I’d like to meet him” 35

He playfully messed my hair up and told me to call him before laughing. As I walked to the dining room to pick up the phone, I cried. Could this really be happening? I had my Dad back. I was free. I called up Frankie, my friend and asked him to come over; he was taken aback as I was. 36

I went to the living room and my Dad asked me how school was, we had a real conversation for once. Then he said sorry. For everything, the abuse, the condescending. He said, 37

“Rohain, I’m so sorry for what I did to you and your mom, and your step mom. Please…forgive me.” 38

I just cried, I didn’t know what to say to him, I nodded. He reached out to hug me; he hugged me tighter than he ever had before. He whispered in my ear, through tears,39

“It’s over now…”40

There was suddenly a knock at the door, I thought nothing of it, I thought it was Frankie. I got up to answer it. I opened the door and to my horror, there stood a social worker. She announced she was here because there had been a call from neighbours who believed there was a problem. I shook my head, I don’t know why but I couldn’t do it, I know I should have let him be taken away, but I just couldn’t. I said there was no problem. Just then Dad came to the door and said,41

“Go on then Rohain, tell them. Tell them how I hit you and beat you. How miserable I make you and your step mom.”42

I clicked. He was being so nice to me because he knew the social worker was coming round. He didn’t love me, he wasn’t sorry; he just wanted to save his own back. Then something inside me snapped, I told them everything. I screamed it all at the top of my voice, I didn’t care if the whole street heard, I wanted them to know how bad he was. He grabbed me by the throat and punched me repeatedly. The social worker ran inside to call the police, this was it, he was going to be arrested. 43

Frankie ran around the corner to see me slump to the floor in tears. He ran to my side, in tears, holding my hand. The police arrived not long after, they grabbed Dad and handcuffed him. He fought and kicked, and said he would kill me for this. I knew he probably would. 44

Me and Frankie sat on the sofa and cried. Finally I was free. He always believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. He told me everything would be alright, and it was. Now it was. Dad had bought some roses for my step mom, just in case she was home when the social worker came. He would have fooled her too. We took the roses outside and together we burned them. The last memory I would ever have of him was gone. The ashes of roses lay scattered on the grass, dead and gone, like the horrors I would never have to face again. The shadows had been vanquished by light. The horrors were gone. The three of us, me, Frankie and Mikey celebrated through the night. We had reason to. My step mom moved back to America months ago, she’s got a new husband now, a nice husband. My mom lives with me now, she is my saviour. 45

When I think about my past, what I went through, I am stunned. Stunned that I put up with it for so long. That doesn’t matter now, I’m free. I’m not afraid anymore, I don’t need to be. I came out stronger in the end so Dad, thank you. Never will you crush me, burn hatred into me, like ashes of roses. Ring-a-ring a roses, a pocket full of posies. Atissue! Atissue! We all fall down…Not anymore, I don’t fall down, there’s no one to push me. I was afraid to do things that others take for granted, one of those things was something not many people realise matter. That is to believe in yourself, be yourself. I know now that until you can love yourself, others cannot love you. 46

Also don’t feel you have to change for someone. If someone truly loves you, they will love you for who you are, not will you to change. Those who force change on others do not love them at all. I look into the past and all I see are fading black memories, dead and crumpled. My soul was near destroyed like the roses we burned. It is very much the same. So Dad, once more, thank you for every bruise and every tear. You did not destroy me, you shattered all my dreams but I fought the change. My dreams are stronger than ever, so is my love, you can never hurt me again. I’m happy, I got all I need, friends, a home, a job, but most of all, myself. I think to how people die everyday, people who don’t want to die. People who are terminally ill, people who get murdered and robbed of a life. There was me, with the gift of life, thinking about destroying it. How could I have thought so selfishly? I am embracing my life, cause you only get one, and do you know what? I want it… 47