After that...

I'm not sure exactly what came next. All I know is that I stayed with my mother until I was six. Whether the abuse came before or after doesnt matter, that is for a later post. I know I went on my first solo aeroplane trip when I was six years old. I remember my mother leaving me at the airport crying and yet I was excited.

Aparently I was smart child, mischevious with the looks of an angel. I had the palest blonde curls and the sweetest innocent little smile you'd ever seen. I know, even I look at the photos and wonder if that was actually me.

Sometimes I think I actually was the Devil Child my mother called me. I don't remember much from my childhood, which is why my blogging these snippets is so important. Even now the images and memories blur in my mind. I wonder at the details that were so clear once upon a time. Yet some are still crystal in my brain.

I digress.

My first trip to my dads state was exciting. I didnt sleep the whole flght, I just couldnt. Dad picked me up from the airport of course. I remember because I was flying underage alone, I had to wait until everyone else got off the plane before I could even undo my seatbelt.

I knew my father right away. Let me make one thing very clear, if my mother thought I could handle a secret, then I knew it. She didnt hide any truths from me, ever. As I grew, more secrets came out but it was always the full truth or nothing. I find no fault in my mothers timing or her bringing up of me, not matter what happened or what I say. She did her best and I damnwell salute her for that! God knows, I would have failed miserably.

Dad had a new girlfriend too, though this one I knew from my time living in the tiny town his family and I were born in. This woman had a daughter as well, she was a few years younger than me and for all intents and purposes. we shall call her Jessica.

I dont know how long I spent there, but I know that Jessica and I fought like cats and dogs. The house that they were now living in was the house my mother and I had lived in, so I felt I had some previous establishment in the house. Jessica had been living there with her mother for quite a while by that time too, so she had her own claim on it.

Thus, we fought. We had to be regularly seperated and yet I remember the doors of our rooms faced each other across the hall. So standing in our doorways we used to throw stuff and pull faces at each other. We were hard enough to deal with by ourselves, let alone together.

There are horror stories of me placing thumb tacks on Jessica's chair before she sat down, and I definately remember that, but I'm sure there was a major argument to do with a dollhouse that I had left there. Jessica came out ontop that argument.

But then again my memory is a bit skew if.

I went home after my alotted time.