Best place to start is the beginning

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Lots of my time there in Texas is a blurr, in a way thats a blessing, I would get to kiss my babies goodnight, and they’d go to bed where ”aunt gerry” would read them stories and give them snacks, before taking them to school in the morning,

I’d be in the other room with ‘him’ usually curled on the bed crying, while he just stomped around calling me names and demanding to know where kevin’s money was, I gave up the bank codes almost immediately, they transfered half a million dollars, but they’d seemed to decide this was fun, so they kept me.

Geraldine would come in a bit later and she’d sit on the bed and be nice to me, and altough i hated her, it’s sick but i was so relieved to hear someone say something nice to me. She’d say she was able to help me get some sleep, she’d bring this little brown bottle out of her pocket, it had a silver lid, she used a syringe to draw some out and before i had change to scream or move she’d jabbed me in the thigh with it, then she’ll lean in and whisper things to me.

I’d wake up, I don’t know when, often naked, always terrified, always alone. I’d be covered in marks, some that I recognised and some that hurt but i had no idea of where they came from. Small burns, cuts and bites. He’d give me a few pills and tell me to go to sleep.

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One Response to Best place to start is the beginning

  1. David Critchley says:

    you are a brave lady!

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