TRIGGER WARNING - THIS PIECE CONTAINS THEMES OF ASSAULT.
This piece is about my grandad and the anger of lost time.
The Chance to Say Goodbye
I have been raised more privileged than most. At one point in my life, I believed that I had everything; a millionaire dad, fancy cars, flights around the world, a gorgeous red-brick Edwardian house... I would be wrong if I said that people were not jealous of me.
Throughout secondary school, I have a distinctive memory of a girl repeatedly how perfect my life was. At the time, I did believe she was right.
I got into my first relationship when I was 12.
By 13, I was in love.
By 14, I was emotionally abused.
By 15, I had been assaulted - isolated and withdrawn.
By 15, my grandad got sick and my 'perfect' life began to crumble.
At first, I wasn't worried, Gramps was the strongest man I knew. In my eyes, he wasn't even old. We went around for a barbecue one Friday night in the gorgeous summer heat. It was so much fun that we decided to go the next week too - only this time grandad was sitting in a chair that he didn't seem to leave.
The following Friday we were back again, only this time Grandad couldn't speak - he could only scream NO, NO, NO over and over and over again. Only this time, my nan was crying, not knowing what to do. Only this time, strangers were coming in and out of the house in nurses' uniforms and speaking down to him like he was a child.
The next Friday it was BBQ night again! Only, this time I didn't go. I had been screamed at the night before by my boyfriend - that I had spent too many Friday nights without him. He thought I was cheating. So, I told my parents to go ahead without me and I would see Gramps that following week.
I was 15 when I was sat at home with my boyfriend. He had just finished assaulting me and I was holding back tears, staring at the ceiling, while he decided he wanted a nap.
I was 15 when my dad rang, 'I think it's time for him to go home now, I'm coming to get you both.'
I was 15 when we pulled away from his house and headed home.
I was 15 when I walked into the living room to find my entire family there in tears.
I was 15 when I saw my dad cry for the first time.
I was 15 when they told me he had died and I didn't get the chance to say goodbye...
I was 16 and taking my anger out on the world. Drinking heavily. Pill cocktails every night to numb the depression diagnosis. The perfect life that I had once had didn't belong to me anymore, I was a shell of the perfect girl I had always been.
I hurt myself, I hurt my friends and my family and I tried to end it all.
I was 16 when I left him and got clean.
But I was 15 when he didn't give me the chance to say goodbye.