I was the eldest sister in a big family. I looked after everyone, made their meals, got them dressed, took them to nursery and school. My parents never asked if I wanted that responsibility, it was simply expected of me.
I hardly had any friends because I never had any free time to see them. Kids my age teased me, saying all I knew how to do was change nappies. It stung, and I often cried about it. My dad saw me crying and hit me with his belt, telling me he was knocking the nonsense out of my head.
I never really had a childhood. After finishing my GCSEs in Year 11, I went to the local college. My parents decided I should train as a chef, so Id be able to keep everyone well fed later on.
Three years later, I started working at a café. My father demanded I steal food and I flatly refused. My mother called me selfish, saying the family had to go without because of me. They even took my first months wages. When I received my second pay packet, I ran awaycaught the first train out, not caring where it led, as long as it got me away from that nightmare. I knew if I stayed, Id waste my life.
I wont say it was easy, but being my parents servant was far worse. I made up my mind to follow my own path, whatever it took. I scrubbed floors, swept up, and eventually worked my way up to dishwasher. Only then was I allowed near the kitchen.
Even after my pay went up, I saved every pound I could, tucking it away in an old piggy bank. My dream was to have a little flat of my own, where I could finally be my own boss. I rented a room from an elderly lady the whole time. She only charged me a token amount, and in return I helped her round the house. She became like family to me, always greeting me after work with a proper cup of tea and homemade scones. In those moments, I felt happier than I ever had.
Eventually, I met the man who would become my husband. We didnt bother with a weddingjust registered at the town hall and that was that. I moved in with his family for a while. A few months later, we welcomed a daughter, and later, a son.
After some time, I started to dream about my own parents. I told my husband, and together we decided to visit them. I bought bags full of gifts, hoping for a decent homecoming. But when I arrived, they hurled insults and even swung at me. My brothers had started drinking heavily, and my sister was headed in the same direction.
Mum and Dad didnt even acknowledge that I wasnt alone, didnt bother looking at their grandchildren, just slammed the door in my face. Perhaps I sound spiteful, but at that moment, I just turned and walked away. I took the presents with me. I wont even be going to their funerals.
