memories i don’t want ·
24 August 04

I think I remember. Every year of my life since that day, I think I have kept it away from my mind. In a manner of speaking, to keep it out of my head, but also to, perhaps, deny it ever happened.

When I thought about it today, I thought I was seven, but looking back it happened before that. The events that took place when I was around seven years old, were after this, therefore it must have happened before that. I thought my childhood was made up mostly of abuse of some kind, and I can’t quite place my finger one what to call this.

To write about this, you have to understand, I was only following instructions on what was told to me. I was essentially bullied by two other people, and the more I think about it the more angry I become, because I must have been so frightened and scared at the time. So much so, that thinking about the event scares me now, as much as it angers me.

I don’t remember the complete specifics, but I must have been five or six years old. There was a girl on my street, who used to live in a house a few blocks down. I can’t remember what sort of people they were, I think they were Asian, and I think the girl had big gums. She was about the same age as me, and I know we played together sometimes. When the other guys came she often ran home, and I did what normal kids do,

“You like that girl! Oooooo!!” they would say.
“No I don’t! I don’t like smelly girls.” I would reply.

This is all paraphrasing as the exact words don’t quite enter my mind. I often was peer pressured in to making enemies of my friends by large groups of bastards. I beat up my best friend at the time, and then he came chasing after me with a big wooden plank when he went psycho after I beat the crap out of him. Of course, I was easily misled, and I think it was because I trusted everyone, in a literal sense. Young or old, ugly or good looking, many or few, I trusted anyone and everyone and was misled so often as a kid.

I don’t know if they were Polaroids, they may have been. They were laughing all the way through, and I don’t think I could look at the girl. I was too confused and ashamed, I wanted to cry but didn’t.

What her name was I remember not, I only remember the gums, and that she wore her hair back in a bunch. I think she also had greasy hair, which was quite horrible to touch at the time. I’d wipe my hand and try to avoid touching her head at any point. I sometimes went into her house to play, but we could only play when her mother and brothers were out. It was safe street so a neighbour always kept an eye on someone else’s house.

The more I think about this the more it frightens me, because it almost is certain to be form of abuse. I may need to go to some hypnotherapist to find out the details, but will they let me, if I’ve already been diagnosed with the happy condition? Fucked if I know. This is more difficult to write about than I thought. It’s trying to make sure the details are correct, or as complete as they can be.

One day, we went to her room. She slept in the same room as her brothers, and it was a big bedroom. There was a double bed, or it might have been a single bed, I was only a kid so I don’t know, it may have seemed bigger than it actually was. We got in the bed together, and we just lay there I think. I have a feeling we were curious more than anything, and I forget whether I was led or I led her. We were fully clothed I believe. I wanted to leave, because I knew my mother would be back soon. I had to be at home or I’d be in trouble.

[zz93]

Someone entered the room. The brothers. They were evil bastards, and often bullied me. They were about twelve or thirteen years of age. They always seem to have this evil grin, but it was just their gums were worse than anyones, and the smile was imposed rather than made. They found us in the bed, and closed the door behind them, or one of them called to the other and shouted something.

I wanted to leave, but they pushed me back and I fell on to the bed. They said I couldn’t go home, and their sister didn’t say anything. Everytime I tried to get up one of them pushed me down. They persuaded their sister to get undressed, somehow, but to stay under the covers. They then told me to take my clothes off, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to go home, and I think I was close to tears.

They said they would let me go if I did what they said, so I took off my clothes and I think they made fun of me or laughed and mocked me in some language. I wanted to leave, but they told me I had to get into the bed with their sister and I had to stay there for a bit. I think they took off the duvet, and made me touch her and made her touch me in certain ways, while the other one took pictures. I don’t know if they were Polaroids, they may have been. They were laughing all the way through, and I don’t think I could look at the girl. I was too confused and ashamed, I wanted to cry but didn’t.

I think them one of them got on the bed, or put the covers back on and they may have got us to do things, while they placed the camera under the duvet or got into the bed with their clothes still on. I can’t remember, it’s still hazy, and I feel ill just thinking about it. When they finished, they told me I couldn’t leave. I think that’s when I broke down in tears, and begged them to let me go home. I think they said if I couldn’t see their sister again, or they would show the pictures to my mother. I promised I wouldn’t and I think the girl started crying in confusion as well.

The brothers left the room, and I put on my clothes. I saw my mother walking towards the house with my cousin. They were heading there, and I was supposed to be there. I wiped my tears, and had to plan an excuse of some kind. If I told her that I was with a girl and the guys took pictures then may be I would get into trouble. I think that’s what the brothers said, that I would get taken by the police for touching their sister or something. God, I don’t remember it.

Every thing is mangled, and what happened when I got home I don’t remember. I know I kept away from the girl, as I promised I would, except one time I didn’t, and I think the brothers caught us. That one time, we didn’t know what to say, and neither of use understood what it meant or why they did it. She said she hated her brothers I think and said they didn’t let her have friends who were boys. They told her to go upstairs and then they beat me up a bit. Told me they would tell my mother what happened, and I said they can and I must have sworn at them, because they kicked the shit out of me again.

I beat up my best friend at the time, and then he came chasing after me with a big wooden plank when he went psycho after I beat the crap out of him. Of course, I was easily misled, and I think it was because I trusted everyone, in a literal sense.

I think I got home, and I told my mother what happened, but didn’t tell her what happened that other day. She just knew that the two brothers beat me up. She went over there, and an argument broke out between the girls mum and mine. The girl was sitting on the sofa arm, and the door was open. I think it was Summer. I could see in to the house, at the girl and I waved at her. She waved back, and the mother saw this, so closed the door. When my mother returned, she said I could never speak to them again.

That’s all I remember. These are the fragments of something I’ve kept quiet in my head and never written about in around 17 or 18 years. It’s something that’s been on my mind, and I guess I have to confront it, whatever it means, and whatever happened. I don’t know if the brothers did anything to me, or her, if they did I have no recollection of it, but I don’t think they did anything other than take pictures and make us go in to certain positions, or make us touch each other.

Is that child abuse? I can’t be certain, and I want to forget it ever happened. By writing I hope I commit to text what I want to forget in reality. It’s not something you want to bring up with your friends,

“Hey I might have been abused as a kid by strangers!”

or to someone you go out with, or to anyone. It’s so fucking awkward, I mean how do you respond to it?

“Yeah it’s like that time we went fishing and this fish bit my finger”

It wasn’t rape, and does it count as paedophilia? Or child abuse? Or mental abuse? Physical abuse? Were they sick? Or was I for following what they said? Why didn’t I just say no to anything they said, because then they wouldn’t make me go through all that. I think the threat was though, that if I didn’t do it, they would make me. And they got their way anyway right? Was I so weak? Even children know how to say no right?

Why did they do that? What did I do wrong? Fuck it. It doesn’t matter. I want to forget, and I will forget. Something’s shouldn’t be remembered.