Shattered

By Lisa J Wilson

The resilience of humankind experiencing adversity is described in this story of a young girl victimized by society. Despite difficult family relationships, hardships, and conflict with government agencies; her unconquerable spirit, focused determination, and patience lead to surprising results..

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris NZ
• Release date: Jun 3, 2015
• ISBN: 9781499097306

Book preview

Copyright © 2015 by Lisa J. Wilson.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2015908802

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-4990-9731-3

                Softcover       978-1-4990-9729-0

                eBook            978-1-4990-9730-6

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 05/29/2015

Xlibris

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Contents

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15

Lisa’s Final Say

Dedication

This autobiography is dedicated to anyone who has ever lived through trauma. I have to give special thanks to some people in my life who made this book possible. It has been written to show you that there is life after tragedy and, no matter who you are, you are special and someone will love you without judging you.

Ian, without you my life wouldn’t have continued. Your support and comfort have been my light. You are my rock and my hero. In the face of adversity you showed me courage and gave me the strength to believe in lasting love and to trust again. For that I am indebted to you.

Mum and Dad, you may be gone but you will live in my memories forever. You gave me grounding and love, which has given me the ability to love others without question. I miss you. There was so much more to share, just not enough time.

Larry R. Hutson, without your expertise and encouragement this story would have remained hidden. You’ve helped me heal, my friend. Thank you for reaching into the darkness. You are a special human being. You won’t understand why but you gave me the ability to trust and believe in myself as a writer.

Neil and James, our legal advisers, who over the years have put up with so much more than they were ever paid for, thank you so much!

And finally, Ben my wonderful son, he will possibly never understand how proud he has made me. You, my son, have truly been an inspiration to me and one of the reasons life will go on. I love you with every ounce of my being.

Lisa J. Wilson

1

T he warm sun swam on my face as I lay on my bed contemplating what my life was really for. It seemed to me there wasn’t much hope left for happiness, and I had not long turned a grand thirteen years old. Questions flew around in my mind, and yet there were no answers to any of them; there were maybes, ifs, ands, and buts – that was about all. I had a new job, new friends, strange new feelings, and a rapidly changing body, to name but a few. The new people I babysat for seemed lovely, and they had the most adorable kids. They seemed so in love and happy. Maybe some of their happiness would rub off on me. Life had been pretty awful for a while now, and it had to get better than the arguing at home.

My eldest brother had recently married. He was moving to Australia, and my heart was literally breaking. His new wife was lovely, but she was taking away my safety net. Denis had always been there to protect and guide me, and soon he would be gone. I was sure the others in the family didn’t love me the same way as he did, and I felt I would just be in everyone’s way once he was gone.

A tear trickled down my face as I felt the pain inside, of abandonment. We had shared a special relationship, and it would never be the same again. I knew that they would be arriving soon to go to the airport; and I had decided I couldn’t face going. I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye. It was an odd feeling that I couldn’t quite understand; but it felt as though if I said goodbye now, then it would be final. The feeling was so strong that it hurt to even think about.

I heard the crunching of gravel under tyres outside my window. I instinctively put my head under my pillow. My mum and dad had been trying all morning to get me out of my room, but this was my safe place and I wasn’t about to leave it. I knew what lay beyond that door, and it didn’t promise to be fun. There was a quiet knock on the door, but I ignored it. ‘Maybe they will all go away if I stay in here under the pillow.’

Denis came in anyway and just stood there. As I looked up I saw that this was no easier for him. He looked sad and happy all at once. I got off the bed and fell into his arms, sobbing. What would it be like without him? Who would take me swimming and out on motorbikes with the guys? Who would I trust to talk to? There was nothing left!

He tried to reassure me, but his words fell on deaf ears; the pain of losing him was too great. It felt like my heart had been ripped out. God, how it hurt. I didn’t say goodbye; I couldn’t. I didn’t go to the airport, and I didn’t watch them drive away. If this was what life was like you could shove it! I cried until I fell into a fitful sleep of sobbing and nightmarish images; I called for help, but no one came to me.

When I finally awoke it was getting dark outside. I heard laughter coming from the lounge, and I immediately hated them all. ‘How could they be so happy when I was dying inside?’ That was what it felt like to me. I lay there for a few more minutes and decided to go out and have something to eat; that always made me feel better.

I was trying to be quiet in the kitchen so no one came to quiz me about my earlier behaviour; but just as I was about to retreat to my safe place, Dad came in. He told me in no uncertain terms how I had disappointed everyone with my actions, that Denis had been devastated that I hadn’t said goodbye. Ah yes, I had done it again. I was a strange, quiet girl who spent too much time reading and hiding in my room. It was time I grew up.

Grew up indeed; I’d show them!

That was an awful week for me. I just couldn’t shake the bad feelings that seemed to be engulfing me, and worse, still no one seemed to care. The weekend arrived, and I still felt awful. My mum and dad were going camping for the weekend and so, apparently, was I. What fun – freezing half to death at night and being bored stupid during the day.

And my older sister, Daphne, was allowed to stay behind! Funny how just three years in age made a difference. Mum said it would be fun and that we could go walking and it would take my mind off things. Things! Apart from being disappointed in me there didn’t seem to be anything bothering any of them. It was life as usual, as if nothing was different and part of our family wasn’t gone.

As we drove through the country, nobody spoke to me. The only thing they seemed interested in was how much trouble Simon had gotten into that week. Simon was my middle brother, and although he was a nice kid he had managed to get into a crowd of heavy drinkers and the trouble seemed endless. He couldn’t see a problem, but everyone else could – the police, the neighbours, and especially Mum and Dad.

There was certainly a lot of tension in the house as Dad yelled constantly at Simon, and Mum cried a lot. Happy families; you just couldn’t beat it.

Anyway, the weekend came and went, and as usual, it was dead boring. Mum and Dad hardly spoke to me unless it was to tell me to put my book away or to come and eat. This scenario was the same week in, week out, with just the odd babysitting job in between.

The troubles with Simon escalated, and he was in trouble with the police every other weekend. I was included less and less in things going on, for fear of upsetting me. A bit late for that! What was happening to my once-happy family? My mum was keeping a lot to herself and was looking tired all the time.

Another weekend, another camping trip. Mum was looking terrible and I asked if she should see a doctor, but everyone assured me that she just needed to rest for the weekend.

And what a weekend that was. Mum got pains in her chest that just wouldn’t go away, so she was rushed to the country doctor, to be safe. Of course, I got to wait at the campsite because they wouldn’t be long. Two hours later, everyone was in a hurry to pack up and head home, and we were suddenly on the road again. What was happening? No one would say and Mum wouldn’t speak.

Dad looked like he had been crying, and the whole thing was terrifying. We arrived home and dropped off the camper van and me; then Mum and Dad were gone again. Some hours later Dad arrived home, alone. I was too young to take it all in, but I heard the words ‘heart attack’, ‘pulmonary’, and ‘blockage’, but what really stuck in was ‘still alive’!

There was hope, but my mother needed urgent surgery to save her life. They were flying her to a bigger hospital, and there, they would do a quadruple pulmonary bypass. I understood none of it, but I silently nodded to my father that I did. I was being sent to stay with a school friend for a while, and they would let me know about Mum’s condition as soon as possible.

As with Denis, I had a bad feeling about all this stuff. Could I see my mum before she went? Children weren’t allowed in ICU and anyway, they had sedated Mum and all the machines might frighten me. But what if she died? No one seemed to care about my feelings and concerns; this was adult stuff. Again the pillow on my bed beckoned, and I retreated to its safety. The rest of the day was a blur.

When I arrived at my friend’s farm, Debbie’s mum hugged me. I was told everything would be okay and, ‘Here’s your room.’ The pillow just wasn’t the same.

Debbie didn’t want to share her room, so I had been put in the guestroom alone. I felt empty as I lay staring at the roof.

Days passed and no word from Dad. What was happening? Was Mum alive? Had they forgotten me? When could I go home?

Only silence met my questions, and then it came, the call. Thirteen days after the mad rush, Mum was coming home. Wow, she was alive! That was my last night at the farm. I went home the next day, but when I arrived no one was there, just a note:

Lisa,

Mum’s in Newlan Hospital. Can you get a sandwich and I’ll talk to you when I get home. Don’t worry she’ll be fine.

Dad

Fine! She was supposed to be home; that was what they had told me – home safe and sound today. The pillow was once again my comfort. I didn’t touch the sandwich I had made, and it was half past nine that night before my father got home. He looked beaten and sad. Things didn’t seem fine, but he told me he was just a little worried, and that Mum would be home in about ten days.

I still wasn’t allowed to see my mum because of my age, and I couldn’t help but be afraid of things I couldn’t see or change.

I arrived home from school one day to soft music and the smell of my mum’s special homemade vegetable soup. I ran up the hall to find Mum sitting up in bed smiling; she was glad to be home.

I sat carefully on the bed and stared. My mother had lost a lot of weight in the past month and she looked drawn and pale, but she was alive; for that I was grateful. My mother said she wanted to hug me, but couldn’t as she had been cut open from her neck to her pubic bone. She was still very sore. My mind swam. My God, what had they done to my mother?

All I wanted to do was hold her and cry, but it just wasn’t an option. Everything felt overwhelming and impossible. I made my mind up then and there that I couldn’t afford to get close to my mother in case she died. I was frightened and believed I would lose her. I did everything that was asked of me but spent the rest of my spare time in my retreat with my beloved pillow.

Books passed time, as did school, but even that was getting hard to cope with. I had gained weight and was being teased unmercifully by the other kids. Nothing was the same, and I knew it never could be. As time went by, my mum got back on her feet, but there were so many things she couldn’t do. She seemed afraid to live, for fear of dying. I began to understand more about Simon’s problem with alcohol – he was hurting too.

Denis leaving had hurt him more than he had told anyone, and he was drowning in his own insecurities. No one noticed him either, not until there was trouble. Then he was selfish and unfair to Mum because he couldn’t stay out of trouble. He, too, was afraid that Mum would die! But he couldn’t say the words. He missed Denis so much, and he just wanted to fit in and be like his friends.

I was finally starting to understand life a little more clearly. Simon wasn’t bad; he was afraid. He needed help but couldn’t admit it to anyone. We were a lot alike really, Simon and I. We felt the same but dealt with it differently. Simon stopped coming home much after Mum’s surgery, and Daphne, my sister, had made a life with a guy, and they were saving to go overseas, too. It didn’t upset me as much as when Denis left because Daphne and I had never been close. I didn’t understand Daph very well.

Things at home were very quiet and very lonely, so my babysitting job was a godsend. Pam called all the time now, and I was getting out with their family more and more. I found that I was starting to lose weight and smile again. Pam’s husband, Paul, took me everywhere and even got me my first real after-school job with his company. He was having his thirty-first birthday party one weekend, and I was invited as his friend, not his babysitter. Wow, it felt good to be wanted again.

I arrived for the party and helped Pam organise food and drinks for everyone. Then Pam said she was on nightshift at the hospital and wouldn’t be at the party but would see me the next day. I set my things in the spare room and sat talking to Paul about the kids and his party. I felt indebted to him; he had made me feel so good again just by being my friend. Paul always knew just the right things to say.

As the party got underway, I noticed my drink tasted a bit bitter. I was allowed a shandy,¹ but this seemed different and not as nice. The next few hours were a haze of lights, smoke, and dizziness. I opened my eyes and found Paul lying next to me on the bed. I was naked. My thoughts were jumbled, and nothing stayed in my mind for very long.

Paul looked at me. He told me I was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He ran his hand down my small swollen breasts and gently caressed my thigh. The sensation was magical. Paul told me he had fallen in love with me. I tried to object and to ask about his wife, but I was suddenly lost in the warmth of his kiss.

I relaxed a little and listened to the words. They were special and they were mine; he loved me. Finally, someone loved me. Paul pulled himself on top of me and smothered me with caresses and kisses, and then he entered me. I felt like I was going to die; the pain was incredible, and I could feel a wet warm sensation between my legs. What was he doing? He said he loved me. How could he suddenly cause me so much pain?

It was over quickly, and Paul was full of his love for me and reassurance that it was all okay. He told me I had made his birthday special and that it was a night he would never forget. I was very sure of that much myself! I awoke in the morning wondering if what had happened was real or just a dream. Had I just drunk too much? I had had only two drinks; it seemed so strange. I felt under the bedcovers and found that I was still naked. Where were my clothes and where was Paul? What about Pam?

When I brought my hand out from under the covers it was covered in blood. Terrified, I lay there wondering if I was bleeding to death. Had Paul caused this, or was there something terribly wrong with me? Pam came into the room and asked me if I wanted breakfast. I couldn’t move, let alone look at her. I felt like I had stolen something from her.

I started crying, and Pam came straight to the bedside. She noticed the blood on my hand and started to comfort me. She said it was okay, that it was just a period and went to get some towels and stuff. I lay there thinking about it. My mother had been so busy getting well and back to work that she had forgotten all about the period stuff. Maybe Paul and I hadn’t done anything after all. But when I came out of the bathroom with Pam, Paul was sitting there and I knew instinctively that we had. I had to go home. I needed to be alone but didn’t really know why.

Once home I snuggled into my pillow. What would I do now? I couldn’t go back there. I went out into the lounge, and I told Mum and Dad that I didn’t want to go babysitting there any more.

They were stunned but said okay, but wanted to know why, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell them what I had done. I was dirty. Mum came into my room an hour or so later and said she had been talking to Pam. It was okay about my period and I had nothing to be embarrassed about. Pam needed me to babysit tonight as she had to work. I lay there rigid, wanting to tell, but wanting more not to.

Slowly, I got up; I wandered out to the step to wait for Paul to collect me. My mind was spinning. What would he say to me? Did he feel as bad as I did? So many questions and answers, yet understanding nothing. Was it sex? Was that what it was like, painful and making you bleed? Paul pulled up, smiling, and my thoughts went away with his smile.

As soon as I got into the car his face changed, and I was told that it was my fault for being so sexy. I had never considered myself in this way; it seemed more of an adult thing. Maybe that was it; maybe now I was an adult. Paul told me that if I told anyone they would all think I was a slut and that my dad would send me to a boarding school because that’s what happened to girls like me.

Then he told me that he loved me and that he and Pam hadn’t had sex for months because Pam had a woman’s problem. I didn’t have to worry about getting pregnant because he had had a vasectomy. What the heck was a vasectomy anyway? I hadn’t even thought about getting pregnant. I wasn’t quite sure of all that stuff, but it seemed I would have to learn fast.

By the time we reached Paul’s, I knew he had taken some photos of me naked, and in compromising positions with three of his party friends, and that if he wanted to make love to me then he would. Paul said he would hate for my dad to see the dirty photos of me – I’d be sent away for sure. I went into the house trembling and was greeted by Pam’s happy face telling me about the kids being due back any time from their grandma’s. She was sorry I had to come early, but they had only one car.

I said I really didn’t mind, but deep down I had a feeling it was Paul’s idea that I arrive early. I stood at the window and watched as Paul kissed Pam goodbye outside and started making his way up the path. I didn’t understand any of this; they seemed really happy, not at all unhappy as Paul had told me. Maybe Pam just didn’t want me to know things weren’t right; after all it wasn’t my business, it was theirs.

Paul startled me out of my thoughts by throwing me roughly on to the bed. I stifled a scream as I landed heavily on the side rail of the bed. I begged him not to do it to me again; it was too painful, and I was bleeding with my period. Paul started kissing me and told me it was okay. He could wait, but there were other things I could do for him to show my love. I was terrified and wondered if these things would hurt me as much as his penetrating me had.

He crawled up the bed towards my face and told me to open my mouth. He slipped his penis into my mouth and groaned. I just lay there, not sure whether to even move, until he told me I had to suck hard. It was disgusting, and I tried to wriggle out from under him. He removed himself from my mouth and reminded me of how no one else loved me, but he would always love me and look after me.

Then he placed his penis in my hand and told me to pull it up and down. This continued until he fell next to me groaning with pleasure. All I wanted to do was wash my hand until the skin peeled off. I felt filthy and crude. We sat on the couch for some time after that, and he told me that sex hurt only the first time and next time would be easier. He gave me his wedding ring to wear around my neck and said that one day it would be mine; one day it would be on my finger.

Confused and frightened, I lay in his lap, letting him explore my body. He must have loved me. He didn’t love Pam any more, and when the kids were a bit older he was going to leave her, and we would be a family together. I thought this was so romantic. I decided that this was what love should be like, and I could get used to the ‘icky’ sex stuff. I knew that would please Paul, and that was all that counted, really – our love for one another.

We stayed on the couch for ages. I thought that Paul was going out too, to a call-out, and that I was supposed to wait for the kids. Paul told me that Pam had thought it a good idea if he waited with me, and that anyway, when I was in the shower he had phoned his work and said he couldn’t do the call-out. That way we could spend more time alone. I found myself thinking about Pam. How could she not love Paul? He was kind and attentive and seemed to be a good father.

As the months passed, I almost lived with Paul and Pam. Pam was working extra hours at the hospital, and Paul told me that it was only so she could avoid him. Paul said she had become so uncaring and mean that he was glad he had me and he couldn’t wait for us to be together permanently. I grew to despise Pam. I hated her for owning Paul with a wedding ring, but most of all I hated her for just being around.

Paul showered me with gifts and attention. It was something I was really beginning to love. I would never again have to feel ‘in the way’ or that I just didn’t belong anywhere. I always felt left out at home now. Mum was busy working, and Dad was just doing the same. And then there was Simon. He was constantly in trouble now and had met an older woman that no one seemed to approve of. It was one drama after another at home, so my other life was like a saviour. Paul understood everything and always made me feel like nothing was a problem.

I was going on every call-out² Paul had, and we had a system he had worked out for us to meet at lunchtime from school. We went everywhere together; I had a life, and it was thanks to Paul falling in love with me. I was keeping a diary and all the beautiful things he had given me. I felt like I needed nothing else.

Our system had been working well for just over a year when I started to spend spare time with my school friend, Jay. Jay had older friends who worked, and they were cool. They often invited me along to their flat in town, and they taught me what it was like to get high. I never realised how much fun drugs could be; they were an escape. That seemed really cool – you could be anyone you wanted when you were high. When I shared this with Paul, he wasn’t impressed and told me that if I wanted to be high he could help me and I didn’t need to waste my time with ‘low lifes’, as he put it.

But I didn’t feel that these people were low lifes; they were my friends now, and they made me feel welcome.

One guy in particular, Kerry, had taken a real shine to me, and he asked if he could see me again. I thought that would be cool, so I agreed. We made a date; and it was okay with my folks because I had lied about his age. The first date was heaps of fun, and about ten at night I motioned that it was time for me to get home. Kerry didn’t seem to think that was a great idea. He wanted more time, and it seemed, more of my body.

What was it with men? Did they instinctively know if you were sexually active? I said no, and Kerry threw my bag out the door and told me to walk home. At first I thought he was kidding, but after fifteen minutes out in the cold I knew the joke was on me. What a jerk! I decided that if he ever called again that I would tell him to ‘bugger off’. When I told Paul about my date, he was furious, not with Kerry, but with me! What was I thinking? Kerry could have taken the heat off him.

I wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, so Paul explained to me that if I were going out with a regular boyfriend, it wouldn’t look bad for him if he took me places. All I had to do was pretend to like Kerry, and then Paul and I could spend even more time together. He wanted me to phone Kerry that night and tell him that I was sorry and ask if we could go out again. Tears streamed down my face as I listened to Paul’s plan. I couldn’t understand how you could love someone and yet be prepared to share them around like a packet of biscuits. I certainly had a lot to learn about life!

Kerry turned up like clockwork the next weekend. I still wasn’t sure how I was going to pretend to like this guy, especially when all he did was make my skin creep. We went to the local liquor place and got some beer and then went back to Kerry’s flat. There were heaps of other people there waiting. I had a beer and then another beer; maybe if I got ‘pissed’ he would stay away from me. But that wasn’t to be, and Kerry came over and asked me to go to his room with him. My heart was pounding; I really didn’t want to go with him, but I thought of Paul and said okay.

Kerry was a pig. He tore my knickers and was rough and nasty in bed, not at all like Paul, and worse still, he never even apologised. He got up and went on about how great I was in bed and that he was falling in love with me.

I couldn’t fight back the nauseous feeling any longer. I raced to his bathroom and vomited. I was just wiping my face when Jay came in. She told me I had just had too much to drink and that it would pass. She asked what my first time had been like. I was mortified. How could anyone enjoy such a painful disgusting pastime? I told Jay that I wanted to go home and asked her to tell Kerry to call a taxi. A few minutes later Kerry came in. Apparently Jay had phoned my mum and she said it was okay for me to stay with Jay for the night.

I didn’t want to stay at Jay’s, but I was told that this was how it worked. Jay’s mum thought that Jay was staying at a friend’s house and she wasn’t due home until the next day, so we could all stay at Kerry’s flat.

This was the last place I wanted to stay, and I told Kerry so. He just picked me up and carried me back to his room, dumping me roughly on the bed. This was where I was staying for the night, and he would take me home tomorrow. It was a night of humiliation and pain, and I knew it was a scene I would replay in my mind for many years to come.

The morning sun peeked through the crack in the curtain, and I awoke with a pounding headache. Now I knew how Simon sometimes felt. God, it was awful! It felt like my head was splitting in two. I sneaked out into the lounge where people were sleeping everywhere. I found my shoes, and quietly opening the front door, I stepped outside.

The sun was beautiful and warm on my face. I started walking up Kerry’s driveway and out on to the road. I was glad to be outside. I couldn’t face all those people laughing at me this morning. I would just tell Kerry I had to leave early because of my babysitting job. As I walked along I wondered why Jay was so casual about sex.