grandmother was a drunk, although no one acknowledged that. she would
drink sherry from tea of coffee cups all day, pretending it was something
else. Every week my mother would call in and collect the flagon case
and fill 2 flagons for her. No one mentioned the amount but they
all knew and kept her stocked up. We remember her as a small lady,
fragile looking, but incredibly strong. she was the matriarch, and
everyone served her, kept her happy. She would sit by the fire in
that dark living room all day, holding court. That's how we
remember her, sitting there with sour face, looking at us with contempt.
When we were about 11 she got cancer, a type of stomach cancer, that should
of killed her. But she survived, probably out of spite. When
she finally did die a few years ago the family spoke of this caring, fun
lady, but we don't remember her that way. To us she was a monster,
a thing of evil.
grandmother was the brains of our abusers. Not satisfied with just
beating or molesting us, she had to devise games. These all, followed
the same type of pattern. they were meant to terrify or disgust us,
and therefore when we reacted as such gave her reason to inflict a punishment.
One of her favourites, was to fill a sack with something vile, rotted,
maggoted meat, faeces, insects, things like that. The sack would
be tied over our head. We weren't allowed to move or react,
and under no circumstances were we allowed to remove the sack.
Eventually, however we were unable to handle it and would either start
screaming or struggling and therefore the punishment would be deserved.
The punishment would range depending on her mood, from being beaten or
kicked to eating the contents of the sack, but more often than not both
things together. This was likely to arrouse them both, as my grandfather
was usually present at the games. So after the punishment some kind
of sexual abuse would occur. We still panic when anyone says "lets
play a game."
grandmother was a sadist, and would take any opportunity to hurt us.
There is an old wives tale that vinegar takes the soreness of sunburn away.
It actually works. You lightly dab vinegar on the burnt skin and
the relief is wonderful. We have always burnt easily, and were often
bright red with sun burn. We would be sent to our grandmother with
a dry facecloth and a bottle of vinegar. She would dab a little onto
the cloth and then proceed to scrub our sun burnt skin. She would
often rub so hard bruises would form. If we screamed or cried with
the pain, we would get a clout around the head for being a baby.
She would often find secret ways like this to torture us, ways that looked
at a glance to be innocent.
was my grandmother that involved us in the Cult. Not only
was it an outlet for her sadistic and abusive needs, but she also embraced
the doctrine and seemed to believe it all. She soon became enmeshed
in the beliefs and structure of the group. It was the only time we
ever saw her defer to another person. She was respectful and obedient
to the leaders of the group and being power hungry constantly tried to
ingratiate herself within the upper circle.
all the family, it was her we lived in fear of the most. She hated
us, but took pleasure in our suffering. There was no escaping her.
We lived around the corner from our grandparents, and we were sent there
on a regular basis. She took every opportunity available to continue
our abuse and this continued 'til we were about 20. We left to go
overseas and when we returned there was less opportunities until she got
too sick. She never forgot what she did, and the last time I saw
her alive she made a comment about how I would always carry the marks of
her "influence" over me. When she died, she willed $500 to all her
grandchildren accept us. My mother told me this, when she sent the
money to my brother. Considering she got more than that when she
used to sell us to her friends for sex it was the last insult.