• 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…

  • Elizabeth the 333rd,  Oops

    Future Oppression

    I never thought about my future. I was always too busy taking care of everyone else to even imagine such a beast existed. My father’s wife insisted I wanted to be a hairdresser, (don’t know where the fuck she got that idea, unless it was the fringe cutting incident and we all know how that turned out), so she got me a Saturday morning job hairdressing. I enjoyed it, though not for the reasons she thought. I had a valid reason for not being home five and half days a week. I had a bit of spare cash, not much, but the stores nearby let me buy my ciggies. That…

  • Elizabeth the 333rd,  Oops

    Sand Castle’s in the Sky

    In that old house, where we were given the sex talk, one fine day, my siblings and I spent hours digging out an underground cubby house. The sand was fine and white, and we’d dug down far enough for all of us to fit inside. If we hadn’t, for some reason, spent that time also teasing our youngest sibling into believing she’d been adopted, that sand cave wouldn’t have been found. But my father’s wife arrived and foiled our attempt by sending us all to our rooms. Had we all climbed in that hole, we would’ve been buried when it collapsed in on us. We also had some family photos…

  • Elizabeth the 333rd,  Oops

    In my Silence

    In my silence I lived a life in my head, sharing nothing of me with the outside world. That state of being led to more problems between my father’s wife and myself. She kept me frightened and abused. So it wasn’t any wonder that the changes to my body, many teenagers experience, I kept to myself, and because of my silence about those changes, I was punished. Something had happened when I was about eight, not to me, I don’t think, but we were given the sex talk. It was something to do with the old man we were renting from, so as far as I was concerned, I’d had…

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