Never a Hero to Me by Tracy Black Page B

. We had fun . It was time to make Mum well again . And the thing was, he was very clever. He timed the abuse perfectly – of course, now I know he had access to things I never thought of, he would know what the doctors were telling Mum, he would be fully aware of when she was getting worse or better, or when she was due to go into hospital for a few days. He put all of this together and made me believe it was all down to me. My behaviour, my collusion in the abuse, was what determined my mum’s health according to him – and how could a five-year-old challenge that?
    One Saturday, when the house was empty and I wasn’t at school, Mum and Gary left for the afternoon, her to get some shopping at the NAAFI, him to play with his friends. I tried to sneak into my room after the door closed but Dad called on me within seconds.
    ‘Get through here!’ he shouted. He only ever seemed to be shouting at me these days – actually, that wasn’t quite right, but the other times, when he didn’t shout, were the times I didn’t want to think about.
    I never challenged him back then. I trotted meekly through to where he sat, on ‘his’ chair as always, the stench of beer and fag smoke surrounding him. ‘Your mum’s gone out,’ he said. I knew that. ‘Gary’s out too.’ I knew that as well. He narrowed his eyes at me as if focusing on what was standing in front of him. ‘It’s just you and me.’ He paused. ‘I hope you’re going to be a good girl, Tracy, because, I have to tell you, your mum hasn’t been feeling too good lately.’ I remember thinking that I hadn’t noticed her being sick or complaining of things going wrong again. Of course, I was still believing his lies and thinking I had some control over Mum’s health, but he, as always, was spinning a web of lies. ‘So, it’s important that we – that you – do everything you can to change that.’
    I knew what was coming – or I thought I did – but I really, really didn’t want to suffer any of that again, so I breathed deeply and said the words I suspected would make him blow his top.
    ‘Daddy,’ I whispered, ‘I don’t really want to do the things that you said we have to do.’
    His reaction surprised me. He didn’t shout. He didn’t clout me. He just narrowed his eyes still further and leaned towards me as I stood in front of him. ‘Do you want your mum to be sick, Tracy?’
    I shook my head.
    ‘Why are you such a bad girl? Why do you only think of yourself? You know that you are the one who can make mum better, who can stop her ever having to go into hospital again, don’t you? And you know that if she does go into hospital, you’re to blame.’
    I was so confused. I wanted to be good, but why couldn’t I do other things to be a good girl? I wanted Mum to stay well, but I wanted someone else to be able to save her.
    ‘Now, come here, come closer – and, for fuck’s sake, Tracy, think of someone other than yourself for once.’ He grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me to him, his tone of voice changing instantly. ‘Your mother is a very ill woman, and it’s your job to make sure she gets better.’ He calmed down a little before his next words. ‘You’d like her to be well, I know you would, and you can be a good girl when you try. So, here’s what we’ll try, come here.’
    He pulled me onto the chair beside him, never once letting go of my hand. He unzipped his trousers as he sat there, and I thought he was going to start touching me while he did those odd things to himself – but, no. This was even worse. He wanted me to touch him there.
    He guided my hand towards his pants where, thankfully, he was still covered up. ‘There you go, Tracy, touch that. Go on, be a good girl.’ He forced my hand onto his penis; I was so little and so weak compared to him there was no way I could physically resist him, but I did have enough disgust to say, ‘No, Dad, no, I don’t want to.’
    ‘Well, you fucking will,’ he retorted. With