Never a Hero to Me by Tracy Black

father. I had just been curious. I wanted to see what my dolly had inside her pants, I wanted to see if she was the same as me. There was a part of me which was keen to see what she had down there that was so fascinating. If my dad couldn’t keep his hands off me and was always taking my pants off, I wanted to know what there was that he was drawn to, and I naively thought I would be able to see that in a doll.
    The next Christmas I was given a Barbie and I hadn’t learned my lesson. As soon as my mum and Gary left the room – I think they had gone to see Agnes to wish her a Merry Christmas – I ripped her clothes off and turned her upside down to look at what was between her legs. My dad was sitting on his chair, drinking as usual, and he was watching me quietly this time. I was amazed by bodies. Every doll I saw drew me in and I wanted to have a closer look.
    ‘You’ve been told about that,’ he said, eventually. ‘Stop being so fucking strange. Play with your fucking dolls, don’t poke about at them.’
    I ignored him – I was rarely defiant at that stage, but it was Christmas and, given that he wasn’t actually shouting at me, I thought it was worth chancing my luck.
    ‘Do you fucking hear me?’ he asked. He stormed over to where I was sitting on the floor and grabbed the Barbie out of my hands. ‘Give her back!’ I shouted. I’d only just been given my pretty doll and didn’t want him to confiscate it already. ‘Please! I’ll be good! Please give her back, Daddy!’ I begged.
    ‘No fucking chance,’ he sneered, and threw her into the fire. I couldn’t help myself – I screamed. As I watched my lovely new present – the only decent thing I’d been given that year – melting in the flames, Mum came in. ‘What’s going on here?’ she asked.
    My dad looked at me, and I could see the warning in his eyes. ‘Tracy’s been stupid – she was having a tantrum, throwing her doll about, and she dropped it in the fire.’
    ‘Tracy!’ Mum exclaimed. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake! That’s just typical of you – you’re such an annoying little girl.’ She stamped out of the room and my dad smiled. ‘You’ve upset your mum, Tracy. She chose that doll for you.’
    ‘But it was you, Dad . . .’ I started to say, but he cut me off.
    ‘No. No, it was you, Tracy. Your fault. And now, now your mum is very upset. You’ll have to make it up to her, won’t you?’
    I nodded, the tears running down my cheeks. This was so unfair, but I knew I couldn’t fight. He always won.
    ‘I’ll go and say sorry,’ I said to him.
    ‘No, no, don’t do that. I’ll tell her – but, Tracy? You’re going to have to be a very, very good girl to make up for this. Do you understand?’
    By this time, I understood. I understood only too well.

CHAPTER 9
     
SAVING MUM
     
    The families on the base lived on streets which were about a mile long each. There were always lots of people about and the area was quite large, but I kept myself to myself. After the abuse began, Dad was keen to keep me indoors as much as possible (although Gary was allowed much more freedom), so even if I had wanted to mix, I didn’t really have the opportunity.
    It was strange the way in which my new life acquired a pattern so quickly. I would say that, within six months, everything had been turned upside down. Dad wasn’t trying to hide his anger nearly as much as he had to start with. When Mum had been hospitalised on the night of the storm, he had become violent and verbally abusive the very next day, but when she came back from being an in-patient, he didn’t swear at me around her or hit me when she was present. However, as time went on, and her periods in hospital became more and more frequent, he gained confidence in being the man he wanted to be – perhaps the man he had always wanted to be. He would swear at me in front of Mum, and although he saved particular words for when he was sexually abusing me, he wasn’t shy about telling me