TRASH, FILTH AND MOULD As a young child- me and my Abuser (father) moved around Blackpool an awful lot, before I was 5. From living on the streets, to run down hostels full of drug addicts and sofa surfing but then finally, moved to a house in Kirklees, Yorkshire; from 5 until 12. It was this house- the only terrace on the street, with the old and wooden, horribly painted yellow door- that harboured pure filth, damp and mould- a truly broken home. My bedroom was covered with mould- leading me to have to sleep on the living room floor or the sofa- for many years.
The oven and kitchen appliances were full of cat hair- to the point that there was always hair on our food. We also had a flea infestation that carried on for years. and was actually a long period of time, where if our legs touched the ground, thousands of fleas would bite and cover our legs- unbelievable I know- but this did indeed happen.
There was no hot water to shower or bathe and our bath was filled with rubbish from the bins and cat feaces- so I went without a proper wash for years. Infact, when I was taken in to foster care, I saw that my body was covered in grey dirt patches that wouldn't budge... It took ateast a few weeks worth of showers for it too finally dissolve..
Cleaning was never on the agenda for my Father and many things were hoarded- so the outcome was horrendous as you can imagine. Curtains were always closed and stained with mould on the inside- we were also very poor.
There would be weeks and months that went by, where I had too live off ketchup sandwiches and no, we couldn't afford to top up the electric- so basic microwave meals were a no go.
Now, I know what you're thinking... On top of the Abuse of my Father and abandonment of my Mother- non of this could possibly be true but truly, it is. You never really know what goes on behind closed doors...
There are children out there that live like this- in broken homes- and unless we speak up about these issues, nothing will ever be done.