Free Little Tim, Big Tim by Tim Roy

to stop all that from this point on. ’ James looks at me and says,
    ‘How? I want it to stop too. ’
    ‘I don’t know. It’s just going to stop. ’
    I am underdeveloped for my age and light as a feather, but I am determined to not allow any man, including my father, to violate me again. I feel my defences are ready for future male attacks. Unfortunately there is still another form of abuse that I am totally unprepared for and am completely unaware of the impact it will have on us.
    The new form of abuse comes from our Mum. It isn’t physical or emotional abuse, which is old-hat. No, it’s sexual abuse. The Old Man has started working nights and Mum asks me to sleep in her bed.
    Mum rarely shows much affection towards me, so to be offered the opportunity to be close to her, I jump at the chance, only to be betrayed by my naivete.
    Lying next to her, I hear her ask,
    ‘Do you love your Mum?’
    ‘Of course I do. ’
    At this reply she lifts my head and places it on her ample breast. I try to pull away only to have her hold me there firmly. I fear that the Old Man might see me being weird with Mum. I feel shame and sense Shane is with me as Mum uses her hand to get my penis into an erect state. Once this has been achieved, she lies on top of me and wiggles a bit and I feel my penis get wet as my virginity is lost to my mother.
    A repulsive situation; I have to endure a heavy, obese lady pleasuring herself by grinding away on top of me. I ejaculate and I’m cursed for making her sticky and wet. The whole experience lasts two minutes.
    I am ordered to go and have a shower and to not mention the special time I had with Mum. This is the first time I have been violated in a heterosexual fashion. The shame allows Shane to experience the episode with me.
    During the past attacks from men, I had the freedom to escape and slip into the Dark. But the subtlety of the invasion from Mum is not physically painful, so there is no need for Peter to surface. However, the emotional pain of Mum crossing the threshold, sacred between mother and son, is unbearable.
    I feel dirty and whilst taking a shower I scrub myself until my skin is inflamed. The nausea is released; I vomit down my chest then repeat the severe scrubbing I torture myself with.
    The ritual continues with Mum whenever the Old Man is working and she desires my company. The abuse lasts longer each time. I’m forced to perform acts for her sexual gratification only to be abused and shamed for making her wet and sticky.
    The longer it lasts, the more I assault my unclean skin with the scrubbing brush. In the shower, going through my cleansing ritual, I vow that this is going to stop.
    Before this began I would expend maximum energy fearing what the Old Man and his contacts would do to me. Now I also fear him finding out that Mum is getting pleasure from me. I even hold a perverse thought that Mum might tell him and get me flogged for being in her bed at the age of fourteen.
    When will this nightmare end?
    I know it has to end soon, I just don’t know how. Maybe I end it for us? This is my first suicidal thought. I wonder why it hasn’t clicked before, that the only way was for me to end it. I feel excited and relieved that I have found the only course of action left open to me in order to escape the nightmare of torment and terror. End it—that’s what I’ll do. A spring in my step appears; I will carry on as normal and tomorrow night my choice of suicide is going to be hanging.
    The beam above my bed is going to be my hanging point. After school I will write my suicide note and post it to Jimmy— even though Jimmy and I haven’t spoken since the so-called Christian camp. My suicide note will explain why I did it. I’m sure that it will be passed onto the authorities as I am also relying on Jimmy’s parents reading it. My death will surely spark an interest in the contents of a letter sent the day I decided to take my life.
    This event will hopefully bring our