Dont judge a book by it’s cover….
Where do I even begin….This subject may be a trigger for some people, so I advise you, before reading this content as it contains scene’s of sexual abuse, mental health issues and talk of suicide…
I would watch as my grandfather would sit on ‘his’ chair outside his house, in the summer sun.
He would tinker on with his car as people would walk past and give him a friendly nod of the head, or a wave.
Neighbours going about their day, would stop and have a chat about ‘Sue down the road, who’s dog won’t stop barking’ or something about nothing!!
If they only knew what kind of man/monster he really was…. If they knew what happened behind closed doors, his door.
Why can’t they see through him? I’d be sat as a little girl drawing with pastel chalk on the path. I remember thinking more than than once, about writing HELP!! with my chalk.
He must of gave off some type of energy, a scent, an inkling, anything!! But obviously not!!
If my own parents didn’t or couldn’t see through him, how was a bloody neighbor or passer by supposed to see it or detect it.
The mind of a young child, who is the victim of abuse is very powerful. In the sense it knows that their…
