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“By eighteen, I was good at defending not only myself but her, I would chase them out with my bat swinging. I’d learned to use my anger effectively, I had so much of it, so much hatred inside of me. I would just keep hitting until my arms ached with the effort … I smashed two of her boyfriend’s cars up in a bid to chase them off.” I shift position on the bed, pulling my legs out and stretching them out, sighing heavily. “She would hate me after and make me go elsewhere to cool down so I slept rough for days on end because she wouldn’t let me come home until I apologized to them for it, which meant returning to being abused in one way or another.” I laugh sardonically, my wonderful mother and her screwed-up sense of parenting.

“Ray was the first one to put me back down on my ass and show me I was no match for a man … He wanted me to have sex with him and when I refused, he bea