I didn’t have a childhood; I don’t remember it. I don’t remember anything properly until age 13. I’ve heard stories; trips to disneyland, birthdays, holidays. I don’t remember anything.
When I was 15, a memory came back to me. A series of memories, in flashbacks.
I was four. I remembered all those times you left me alone in the basement; I remember crying so loudly that the neighbours called social services and I almost got taken away. I remembered that time you were on the telephone, screaming to somebody that you were going to kill yourself and me.
The last memory I have is of the day you […]