Download Abandoned : the true story of a little girl who didn't by Anya Peters PDF

By Anya Peters

A heartbreaking real tale of 1 little girl's seek to discover a spot she may well name home.

summary:

Separated from her genuine mom at start, Anya grew up in terror of her drunken bullying uncle. overwhelmed, humiliated and sexually abused by way of him from the age of six, she suggestion her lifestyles could not get Read more...

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Additional resources for Abandoned : the true story of a little girl who didn't belong

Sample text

Soon she was fighting fire with fire, matching him vodka for vodka as they tried to scream and pummel one another into the kind of partner they wanted each other to be. Mummy would fight with her last breath to protect her children. And although she could say whatever she liked about her own family in Ireland, she saw red whenever my uncle turned on them: especially Kathy. He knew that was the easiest way to get to her, through her red-haired sister with her ‘airs and graces’ and her distrust of him—Kathy ‘the whore’.

From the stories she told us we knew that even as a child she had been headstrong and unruly, and constantly at war with her own father. She described herself as being the ‘black sheep of the family’, ‘rough and ready’ and a ‘fighter’. ‘Don’t worry about me,’ she’d whisper to us those nights when we’d all tiptoed back down after he had staggered off to bed. ’ But she wasn’t; though neither was she quite ready for the monster my uncle turned into after swallowing beer and vodka all night. She just wasn’t willing to be a victim.

She hadn’t even had a boyfriend before she met my father. I didn’t know who he was but I soon found out that he was a married man, and that they had been having an affair. Mummy told me that much one night after my uncle had stormed off to bed following one of their drunken arguments. My brothers and sisters had been herded off to bed earlier in the evening, but, as he often did, my uncle made me sit there and listen. It was on those nights, once he’d gone to bed, and before my brothers and sisters tiptoed back down one by one, that Mummy would tell me all her stories about growing up in Ireland.

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