My little sister was hurt
I raced inside (I was four)
Following the sounds
not at all like hidey, more like chasey.
Screams, not of excitement or false fear
but screams of agony in my ears.

The awful sight unrecognised.
He hunched and bunched over her -
a broken doll only two years old.
She screamed but only weakly moved.

I stood unknowing - then I saw the blood.
He was hurting her! But he was my Dad?
My mind of four and all my being went cold as ice and lost all feeling.
I jumped on his back and with all my might punched and kicked and tried to bite.
He swatted me away like a fly and faced me but I didn’t cry.
No fear, no anger, no thought at all.
Only moved when she began to crawl.

But he grabbed her
and with those huge evil fingers raped her again
till those fingers were as red as the huge bruised thing
advancing before him.

He grabbed at me but I was fast and with icy rage I slipped on past
and grabbed my sister and ran like hell but only made it to the hall.
The monster grabbed my hair and pulled and he forgot her.
“Run”, I yelled.

Tears and blood in equal gusts dripped down her cheeks and down her legs.
And he forgot her
but not me.

“Your turn”, he said.

No fear,
no anger,
no thought at all.
No childhood from that day recalled.