The silence

The 'scissor incident' as is came to be known had a silent consequence. I had been taken to Akrotiri RAF hospital as a result of DIY SRS, the same hospital my father was stationed, and as a result he was called to his superiors to offer explanation of what had happened. My mothers maternal skills being brought into question and my fathers ability to control his wife and the possibility of bad press as a result of wagging tongues amongst the European enclave. I should say at this time my mothers mental health was never what you would call stable, I grew up with her constant attention seeking attempts at taking her life, I became emotionally immune to these incidents, to frequent for my emotional interest by the age of 6 or 7. Well I think this was the start of my fathers disinterest in me, I had been seen and heard a little to prominently for his careers well-being. I can only imagine the pointed words my parents may of exchanged, my mother took an overdose to ease my suffering and confusion.

I was seen by a nice lady at the hospital again that talked to me and asked me about how my parents hugged me, and only years later did I understand what was actually being investigated. For a long time there was a chill to are home and I new to stay out of the focus. I played my little games in the garden such that it was, collecting twigs and leaves to construct my fairy houses, crafting scavenged items from the scrub-land or bondoos as they were called, to furnish my tiny grottos and make them as appealing as I could in hope they would be occupied by the fairies I so desperately wished to join.

I feel this was the start of my withdrawal from reality, by 7 I still wet the bed, still built my grottos but had stopped talking altogether. When  forced into social situations, I would find a corner and sit Buddha like silent in my own imagination, rebuking any attempt to eliciting me to join the fun and games. I'm told that from around 5 till almost 8 I would only say please and thank you, my only verbal response to any attempt to engage me. I knew it was the horrible bits between my legs that upset my family and I hated them, I knew the smooth children were loved more, they got the nice cloths and had the pretty hair and all I wanted was to have the same.