Monday, 9 November 2015

Memories of a Scapegoat The Trade Show Beating



Dad was the only one who would hit me in front of other people being head of the house and as respected businessman no one ever disagreed with him and everyone sucked up to him because of his money and contacts which he loved. My parents had me working from around the age of ten, I would have to help my parents sell things at tradeshows and work in the shop dad owned at weekends after my music lesson, it as this music lesson and weekend job that brought me into contact with the man who would sexually abuse me for the next few years but that is a story for another time.

I remember this particular trade show for a few reasons and none of them good. 

 We had arrived at the venue for the trade show with my brother and his friend who were also helping out.  My brother and his friends (who are all ten to fifteen years older than me) were encouraging me to take the piss out of one of my dad’s members of staff who suffered from extreme claustrophobia and had suffered a trauma at their hands only minutes before.

 They had bundled and locked him in the back of the work van and took him on a joyride around the estate he was absolutely terrified and screaming in the back they didn’t let him out until my mother came out of the hotel the show was at saw them screeching around in the van and went off on one at my brother and his friend when they came to a stop, not because she cared about the poor lad who’s worst fear had come true but because there were customers of my dad and business colleagues all around and the episode would reflect badly on the family and the business and in our family image and money are sacred. 

 I got my orders to go up to him and start going boohoo poor cry baby, my brother was pissed off at getting a telling off from mother in front of people and so wanted to further hurt the poor lad . I knew better than to defy my older brother and I reluctantly did it. I think I was around ten at the time and I hated cruelty I felt terrible the whole time but I was also scared of getting a beating. The lad went straight to my dad and told him what I had done so dad came storming over to me with that psychotic furious look on his face he got when he was about to lose it grabbed me by the neck and welted me across my arse hard as he could three times and then because he didn't feel he had hurt me enough hit me across the back of the head so hard it stunned me. My brother and his pal said nothing they just watched and let me take the beating. That day was also particularly memorable because later on I had to go on stage and dad was hosting, before he called me up he told the whole audience I was born a mistake, which got a mixture of shocked laughed and sympathetic awwws from the crowd, in all honesty I am not sure which was the hardest to take.

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