The Day I Found Out

Image by InspireMe

I remember being a naive fourteen year old teenager, with many friends and not a care in the world. Going out daily, to play football, hide and seek, chap door run, you name it, we were kids and enjoying it.

But, like most good things, there’s always a downside. When I visited friends houses and seen happy, full families, it didn’t annoy me but in fact made me severely jealous and to the point of questioning why this was.

My mother did more than she could to provide for my family and for that I will be forever grateful.

Now, this is where it begins. My “father” was never around. I had repeatedly questioned my mother and older siblings on why this part of my life was void. I always got the cold shoulder and my questions would go unanswered, for reasons which I now completely understand.

This is the day, the day I found out. It was the day of my sister’s twenty-first birthday party and I had gone to congratulate to her. Having recently started smoking cigarettes we sat and puffed one while having a giggle about my mother not knowing. Some people will judge this as her being a bad “adult” but, if you have a sibling then you’d understand that being able to trust each other with secrets like this made it a truly unbreakable bond.

Out of blue and totally ruining the current conversation, I asked her, I asked her to be truthful with me. “Where is my father”? I remember the look she gave me, it was horrific. Unwilling to tell me, she tried to shrug off the question as usual but I pleaded, I needed to know.

A tear streamed down her face, I thought to myself “is this selfish, why am I doing this to her on the day of her birthday”? As selfish as it may have been, I don’t regret it, I couldn’t think of a better way of possibly finding out.

She asked me to sit closer to her, I was preparing myself, was this really about to happen? “Are you ready, Mark”? I nodded my head and took a deep breath. “Your father is a paedophile who sexually abused your older brother”. I looked at her in disgust, “you’re joking, right”? She wasn’t.

There is absolutely no way I could put into words how I was feeling at this point. I tried to put a brave face on, like always. I couldn’t, I looked at my sister and began to cry like I have never cried before. Tears streaming down both of our faces and a hug that was inseparable, just like the bond we had.

Everything is going to be okay, Mark”. I couldn’t speak, I felt as if I physically could not speak. So many thoughts and emotions were running through my head, “Is this why I never had a good bond with my brother”? “Is this why he tried to set me on fire when I was five years old”? “Is this why my family never wanted me to know”?

Everything became so clear, how could I not have noticed? Given that I was only fourteen years old, looking back at it now, how could I have known? I guess that I was holding onto a speck of hope that there was a possibility that he was in jail or something. Never in a million years would I have thought this, but unfortunately this is the truth for me. There is no changing this, do I regret it? Do I wish that I could go back to not knowing?

Absolutely not, although this has lead to a series of things that I will write about in the near future.

Do not be ashamed if you have been through anything out of the ordinary, you are not alone.

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