Alan's Mental Health: The Poison Dwarf - Part 2


Good, you deserve it...

If you're a new visitor to the blog, or to the Alan's Mental Health feature, take some time to read this introductory post. It explains a bit of the background behind the posts.

This post contains some strong language and descriptions of violence which, whilst not overly graphic, may trigger some readers.

As you'll know from part one, I wasn't exactly enamoured with the new woman in his life. In fact, she was the first person I remember really hating. At the time, I didn't really know anything about her, save from the fact she'd been a manager of one of my parent's shops, and had an affair with him. That was more than enough for my liking though, and unfortunately it didn't get any better...

She had a daughter who was a similar age to my sister. Unfortunately, this child was also one of divorce (or rather soon would be IIRC), and neither parent seemed really prepared to discipline her properly. For some reason she didn't much care for yours truly. I didn't know why then, and I still don't know why. I don't think I ever will. One one occasion, myself and my best friend were programming on my computer (an Amstrad CPC6128 that I'd be given by 'him', as he couldn't work it.)

Both my sister and my soon-to-be stepsister were sat on the bed behind us (the computer was on the floor, as room was very tight.) watching me. For some reason, the other woman's daughter started kicking me in the back. Naturally, I told her to stop it. Instead, she played the petulant child role expertly, and not only continued, but kicked harder each time I told her off. She wasn't strong enough to actually hurt me, but it was an annoyance I could well do without. Eventually, I went downstairs and told him and her. The daughter got an immediate and thorough reprimand from him, while the other woman just sat there with a somewhat blank expression on her face. She didn't even attempt to scold her daughter, and once he had finished telling her off (I should point out that there was no violence) the other woman just scowled at me.

Towards the end of the day, it was time for my friend to return home. He lived a few miles away, and well beyond safe walking distance for a child of that age, so him and I got into the car. The other woman told 'him' that he could stay home and she'd take us both. This instantly seemed strange, as she'd never offered to do anything for me to help 'him' out before. I was soon to learn that this wasn't a gesture of kindness, but one of malice and revenge. And one that I don't think panned out quite as she had hoped...

When she got into the car, she turned to me to speak. This is the heated conversation that followed:

The Other Woman: "Are you happy with yourself? Do you feel like a big man now?"

Me: "Huh?"

TOW: "I bet you're really pleased with yourself aren't you?"

Me: "What do you mean?"

TOW: "Getting [name redacted] into trouble like that for no bloody reason."

Me: "Erm, she was kicking me in the back!"

TOW: "No she wasn't! She would never do a thing like that!"

My Best Friend: "Yes, actually, she was. Alan asked her to stop a few times."

Me: "Thank you [name redacted]."

TOW: "Well, I know you're lying. You just like getting her into trouble."

Me: "Look, she was kicking me in the back. I asked her to stop a few times and she just kicked harder. What else was I supposed to do?!"

TOW: "I hope you're happy about it!"

Me: "Yes actually, I am. She was being naughty and she got told off for being naughty."

TOW: ....

At that point, she started the engine and drove my friend home. She never spoke to me again for the entire journey. However, when we arrived back to the house, I took 'him' to one side and told him what had happened. I explained that my best friend would tell him the same, if he wanted to ask him.

Later that night I was asleep in bed, in the bedroom I shared with my sister and the other woman's daughter. I was woken up by a loud thud, following by crying, screaming and pleading. This was familiar territory to me, as I'd regularly heard the same things when my parents were together.

TOW: *screams* followed by another loud thud

Him: *inaudible*

TOW: "Stop it [name redacted]! Please don't!"

Him: *inaudible*

TOW: "HELP! ALAN! HE'S HITTING ME! HELP ME ALAN! PLEASE HELP ME!"

Him: "DON'T YOU DARE FUCKING WAKE HIM UP! IF HE WAKES UP AND COMES IN HERE..."

TOW: "PLEASE STOP! PLEASE!"

Me (under my breath, to myself): "Good. You deserve it you fucking bitch. I hope he fucking kills you."

Shortly after, I fell asleep, while the beating continued...

Dear readers,

If you're shocked by my reaction to the nights events, you are right to be. As I write this, even I feel a bit of a knot in my stomach, and I'm close to welling up. I really was not expecting to feel this way at all, but even I am shocked (and I little disappointed) by my reaction. Try to put yourself in my position at the time this all took place. It won't make the experience any less unsettling, but perhaps you'll understand a little better.

I suppose the decent thing to do would have been to intervene, either physically or by calling the police. But I was a child, who was simultaneously scared of what he'd do to me if I interrupted and somewhat (in hindsight rather sickeningly) happy that she was getting what I thought at that time to be 'exactly what she deserved.'

I want you to know that I in no way condone his actions, or domestic violence in anyway. I firmly believe that if someone is in this kind of danger and asking for your help, you should do everything in your power to assist.

* The photo is, I think, a slightly more recent one than the events described in this post. I haven't got any photos of me from this time period. It's not relevant to the post.

If you feel you need immediate help with your mental health, then contact one of the organisations below (click the logo for their website):
Samaritans (UK)

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (USA)

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