Showdown at the Shed ........................................................................ 107
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Chapter 1 - Bastards on a Couch Chapter 1
Quiet Bastards on a Couch
AGE: 3 to 4 years old
Made to sit on couch in silence for long periods of time, verbal abuse & profanity, forced kneeling & prayer on hard floor for hours, head bruises from fire poker, not let outside to play, intimidation & rage My name is Maurice and I grew up in a small country town in the west of Ireland.
I have four brothers who are all older than me, the next oldest to me is Deane and he is a year and a half older, the next is Philip, he is two years older again, Colin is a year and a half older again and the oldest is Declan by two years. My mother came from the area and had three brothers, my father grew up nearby and had two brothers and three sisters.
My father had sold the house he grew up in that was left to him by his parents and built a house just up the road on land that was also given to him by his parents and had been constructed five years before I was born.
My first memory of life was physical abuse at the age of three or four years old.
Myself and my four brothers who were all older than me were sitting on the couch in an order from the oldest to the youngest myself, we were always made to sit in order like that, we were told by our father in the morning as we sat in order on the couch to be quiet for the day or he would kill us, shouting it at us and getting into a rage while shouting it at us calling us names like 'cunt' and 'bastards', he would shout "If ye are not quiet I'll fuckin kill ye, ye cunts!"
He would then go out to the yard to milk the cows as my mother was frantically making porridge for us to eat while trying to get prepared to help my father milking the cows.
When my parents went to milk the cows we would eat our porridge and sit there quietly in fear remembering what our father said, what he would do to us if we weren’t quiet. I looked over at each of my brothers individually and could see the fear in their faces and even at the young age that I was at, I could see a sense of panic in their faces as to what way it was going to be when he returns from milking the cows.
In the middle of milking the cows which took my parents about two and a half hours, my mother would come in to us to see if we were quiet, in the hope that we were, so he wouldn’t kick off when he came in. We were quiet when she checked on us, but our 4
Chapter 1 - Bastards on a Couch mother used to say, "Please be quiet when he comes in, or he will go cracked!" as she frantically rushed out the door to get back to help him with the milking.
As we sat there knowing that he would soon be in after milking the cows, the fear and worry grew larger, I could see it in my brothers faces as I looked over at them. I could see that they were more worried than me and I was worried. He then came in to the sitting room, where we sat there as quiet as five children could be, in a rage shouting, "Be quiet ye cunts!" repeatedly, as we couldn’t be any quieter. I remember thinking, 'What's going on.'
we were quiet like he demanded, but as a little time went on even at the young age I was at I could see what he was trying to do.
He just wanted to beat us no matter what, and needed an excuse to do it, so he would be shouting, "Be quiet!" so our mother would think that we didn’t do what we were told and to be quiet as she rushed to get his tea ready in the kitchen.
He would somehow quiet down when our mother would say come to the kitchen for your tea, which wasn’t ready but it was our mothers attempt to stop him from getting into a further rage. It was her way of stopping him without asking him as she was petrified of him.
As I was so young I don't have any recollection of what me and my brothers done for the rest of the day. I have some recollection that we had to sit there all day without being allowed outside and no television to look at as my father had the couch always facing the other direction away from the television.
I don’t remember ever playing outside at that time. I just remember being on the couch feeling nervous about him coming into the house in a fit of rage, looking over at my brothers and seeing the fear and anxiety in their faces as they as they tried to be as quiet as they could.
When the evening came after sitting there on the couch all day with my brothers in silence, we would have the evening tea and straight away me and my brothers would be made kneel on the hard floor to say prayers, and we were put in order on the floor from the oldest down to the youngest, same as when we sat on the couch. With our mother standing in front of us and to the side, and he would be standing in front of us saying the prayers frantically and he seemed disturbed. I remember thinking there is something wrong, something bad is going to happen.
The floor was thin ' lino' over concrete, so even after a few minutes my knees were sore and so were the brothers knees, we would start to kinda go to a sitting position and he would take a couple steps forward in a rage shouting, "Get up on yer fuckin knees ye cunts!" we got straight back up on our knees.
We had to have our hands in a prayer position just directly under our chin, when any of us would drop our hands even a little down from that position he came towards us in a rage and we would put our hands back into position and he would step back and start saying prayers again frantically.
I knew that this had to be kept up, and so did my brothers or his rage was going to get worse.
As more time went on my knees we raking in pain as about a half hour had passed, thinking this is just not right, my arms started to get more sore than my knees, thinking I can't do this any longer.
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Chapter 1 - Bastards on a Couch It lasted about another half hour and we stuck it out until the end. How we stuck it out 'til the end I'll never know.
We were made to go back to the couch after the hour of prayers in order again, faced away from the television. He and my mother would go to the kitchen or outside.
Myself and my brothers would sit there again quiet, every now and again some of us would try to talk to the other, but when we did the others said, 'Shush! Stop talkin', knowing if he caught us something bad would happen.
And they seemed very nervous as to what might happen when he came back, I was nervous to but they were older than me so they realized more than me what was really going on even though I had a good idea that things were not good.
We sat on the couch faced away from the television, we faced the wall with the holy cross, the kitchen door to the left and the range to the right.
After some time of him being gone, what I feared might happen did. He came into the sitting room where we still sat in silence on the couch, in a rage, I knew that something bad was about to happen, as he went straight towards the range and picked up the poker with our mother following him trying to pull him back. She was in an awful way, screaming and crying as she tried to go in front of him as he made in the direction of the couch and towards me where I sat at the outside of the couch.
I knew that it was going to be bad because of the rage in his face, the temper, and the way he was not stopping for my mother who was trying everything to stop him.
As he got closer he lifted his hand that he had the poker in and started to swipe the poker at my head, my mother was trying to pull his hand back, but the swipes were too aggressive for her to stop.
I thought for a second that maybe he was just going to frighten me by swiping the poker in front of my face, but then he started swiping it down on the top of my head as I sat on the couch.
He was swiping it at full force and so fast. He had hit me about ten times before I got a chance to move to think about trying to get away as I watched my mother in hysterics at this stage trying everything to stop him.
I knew with the force and the speed of the blows that things were not going to be good, I could feel the pain instantly.
I knew that already he meant to cause serious damage to me with the force he was hitting me, and I thought that if he didn’t stop he was going to kill me.
I knew I had to try and get away as he wasn't calming down, and the rage was getting worse and worse.
I got off the couch and on to my feet while he was still fleecing me over the head with the poker. I then tried to run around him and get away, as I did he was turning as to stay hitting me as I was getting away, I could still feel the pain of the blows being in shock, and trying to get away.
My instinct was to run to my bedroom to protect myself, I thought when I got around him and made for the door to the hallway, that he might stop, but as I did he was following me, still hitting me viciously.
When I got to the door and opened it, I again thought that he might stop because I was getting away and maybe he thought that he had hit me enough.
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Chapter 1 - Bastards on a Couch As I got a couple steps into the hallway, I was looking back to see was he going to stop, he turned around to my mother who was behind him at this stage trying frantically pulling him back so he wouldn't follow me into the hallway. As she did he turned around to her and started to wave the poker viciously in front of her face.
It really frightened her as she was taking a few steps back to prevent getting hit. He then turned into the hallway and was about to start hitting me again.
I turned and started to run for my bedroom again thinking he might stop and not follow me, I got to the door, slightly looking back, seeing him still coming and still in a rage.
The bedroom door was open and I ran in, pushing the door out as I ran in and jumped up on to the bed.
As I did he pushed open the door, and came over to the side of the bed and dropped the poker on the floor. I was sitting upon the bed. I didn’t know what was going to happen.
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