Screwed up little boy.

I woke to Herrad calling out in pain. I did my usual comforting- filling a bag of weed vapour for her, massage then pills. Lifted the dogs onto her bed so Herrad could have a cuddle. It was all OK after a while and Spike and Herrad had a huge love session. Sometimes Spike can not tolerate sharing Herrad with Marleen but today it was OK. We all had the mission to get the smile back on that pretty face again.

I try to be honest open and adult about my emotions but I still let the freaked out desperate child escape from the rational every now and then. Today Herrad said something in a way that hit the button.
My father could be an absolute piece of shit when he got the mind and the way Herrad spoke to me over something trivial was nasty (not very nasty) but nasty in the way my father could be. He would ask questions about something but without giving any information. I would seek to provide the answer he was after but was aware there was something else on the agenda. After a few minutes of fear the misdemeanour would be revealed and I would get a beating. When I got older I would just tell him to piss off and just give him the pleasure of being the executioner- he could miss out on playing prosecuting counsel. The physical bullying was easier to deal with than the emotional bullying. By the time I was fifteen we hated each other and I stopped going home.
Herrad was treated to the answer my Dad should have got. She did not deserve the venom and I am so sorry.
Beatings were done to improve me and to fulfil my fathers duty as a parent. I hated him for thirty years and have had depression problems all my life. Now those beatings even hurt Herrad. Violence (physical, verbal, emotional) does not belong in families.