• Elizabeth the 333rd

    All Was Not What It Seemed

    I met my ex-husband at my friends wedding. It was her brother. Their younger step brother was bothering me and he stepped in and put a stop to it. From that day I moved in with several others, to my eventual sister in laws flat. It was down near Scarborough beach. No-one hung around the flat because we were at the beach everyday. My ex-husband began to visit on a regular basis and we eventually started seeing each other. There were huge flashing warning signs screaming, ‘Turn back now,’ but I was young and escaping an abusive woman. I had no-one to talk to about things, so when he took…

  • Elizabeth the 333rd

    Bullshit Just Gets A New Name

    My ex-husband died last year and his legacy, surreal as it might be for me, is for many others, that, ‘He was a good man.’ In life I allowed his lies to flourish by remaining silent. That was my fault. I also had no intention of speaking ill of his memory, the one he built in the minds of others after I escaped. I will not allow the lie to tarnish my future because I did not speak up again. I remained silent because I chose to live, but new life has been breathed into a new monster. It has been given a new platform created, and held together, with…

  • Elizabeth the 333rd

    Missing Me

    **No images for this post. It’s too hard to relate how much of a c*** someone is with just a picture… oh, and by the way, please be aware this post contains foul language** I hadn’t planned to run away. I intended on waiting until I was sixteen, but that came and went. I knew I could legally leave, and did, but my father’s wife made things so bad, that when everything fell through, I couldn’t go back. I was physically and mentally unable. I was seventeen when I finally got up the courage. I’d quit my jobs, that’s not the story I told though. I was tired. I worked…

  • Elizabeth the 333rd

    The Trampoline

    When I was fifteen I was working a lot. I was also a very sporty individual and one contraption I loved was the Trampoline. We’d sometimes go to Mandurah—Western Australia’s down south town—and the caravan park had four huge in the ground trampolines. So, it’s no wonder one of the first things I bought for myself was an above ground one. My younger, but not the youngest sister, was… unpredictable, a dirty fighter, when it came to her and I. We’d get along, but I’d never know when she felt angered, or become upset with me, until I received a cork punch between my shoulder blades while my back was…

  • Elizabeth the 333rd

    Betrayal

    My teenage years were brutal but knew of no-one I could share my pains with. My daily mantra became: Three more years until I can leave home; two more years until I can leave home; one more year more year until I can leave home. My father’s wife’s actions meant nothing to me. I was numb to her abuse, had psychologically hardened my heart years earlier. I knew I was on my own. Her particular type of tortures were targeted. They began with slaps and welts, and turned into body punches, and psychological abuses the older I got. In my teenage years, my father’s wife would take my siblings and…

  • Elizabeth the 333rd,  Oops

    The Shame of it All

    In the weeks prior to starting high school, prior to that accusation by that boy, my parents took me shopping for uniforms and other necessities. We weren’t well off, so new clothes were a treat. My memories of clothes shopping, up until that point, was this: In the dead of night, down a dark Perth back alley, my father’s wife’s mother surreptitiously drove my siblings and I. She would turn the headlights off and coast to a stop behind a row of shops. Grandmother shushed us and motioned for us to get out of the car quietly. I have no doubt my father’s wife told her mother my father couldn’t…

  • Elizabeth the 333rd,  Oops

    Fanning the Fires of Perdition

    My first day, in my first year of high school was one of the worst days of my young life. Halfway through that day, a boy I knew from primary school, told everyone I was a slut. I mean, what the fuck? Slut was up there with the word cock, had no idea what it meant, and I’ll never forget his name. That boy destroyed the only sanctuary I had away from my father’s wife, away from that house. I spent my teen years in hiding, at school and at home. Every one wanted to beat the shit out of the school slut. If the stories from those who worked with…

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