Free Little Tim, Big Tim by Tim Roy Page B

is saying ‘thanks for helping us. ’
    ‘ You have not seen anything yet.’ I assure the other, not understanding why.
    ‘What do we do now?’ Mark questions.
    Then Peter answers. ‘We go home.’
    ‘Where’s home?’
    ‘I’ll show you.’
    ‘Who are you?’
    ‘I ’ m Peter, the pain holder. Every time Little Big Tim gets attacked like that , I come out and suffer the pain. A long time ago Little Tim couldn’t handle the pain anymore so he created me. Meeting you makes me feel that there is a drastic change in our world.’
    ‘I know two things. I’m here to stop the marks and I’m to stay here until Little Big Tim stops thinking about trying to kill us.’
    ‘Well that’s why Troy helped us in the storeroom; he must be part of the plan to stop the attacks.’
    ‘Who’s Troy?’
    ‘Troy carries our anger and can be naughty ; which gets us a hiding. Can you stop us getting a flogging?
    ‘Does a hiding or flogging mark you?’
    ‘Yes, always.’
    ‘Well, yes, that’s what I’m here for. I’m to stop our body getting marked. ’
     
MARK
     
    The conversation ends when we are standing outside a house. Peter tells me this is our house and that I sleep in the small room on the verandah. He says that it will be smart to go straight through the house to the back, get out of our school clothes and have a shower. When finished, go to our bedroom, put on pyjamas and wait to be called for dinner. I think, ‘this is a simple plan, I can follow this.’
    I open the door and go through the house only to be caught by their Mum who inspects the shirt with the ripped buttons.
    ‘How did that happen, Tim?’ she asks.
    ‘A man did it.’
    ‘ Why do you always lie to me? ’
    Her fury rises as she jumps off her seat to grab an item from the kitchen, which I suspect is to be used for punishment.
    ‘Now, tell me how your shirt got ripped and no lies this time. You have been fighting. I warned you about fighting. I told you the next time you were fighting you would get the jug cord . ’
    So that is what she is holding, a jug cord. I assess that those who use such an item against children must be quite sadistic and barbaric. I think to myself that this must be what I’m here to stop. She doesn’t believe me about the man ripping my shirt and, because she thinks I’ve been fighting—which always leaves marks on you—she wants to punish me by putting more marks on me! I don’t understand. She is sick.
    As she swings the cord through the air, I stand stationary. I am not feeling intimidated as we have been over this a thousand times before. Somehow this woman believes she has this God given right to punish with impunity. The first whack impacts; I don’t murmur, flinch or cry, I vow no more tears. I, Mark, feel the pain. Peter is jubilant within which signifies that he is having his first reprieve from being the only one who feels pain. The sting on my flesh makes me feel happy inside—I know what to do.
    With the second swing, I grab the cord and hold it firm. A tug of war with the cord begins; she pulls and I pull back. Although short, she is a large woman, and threatens me with more punishment if I don’t relinquish my right not to be belted. I win; the cord hangs in my hand. I grip it tightly, ensuring that it can’t be used against me.
    Mum looks at me with a look you would give to a rabid dog that is out of control. But I am well in control of my actions; I am now taking control for all of us.
    Our Mum is furious at this defiance and moves to strike me across the head with her hand. I protect myself with speed and agility that is only seen in Bruce Lee movies. My first words of defiance to my Mum are ‘ No! No! No! No! No! ’ I keep repeating that one word until she takes a step back and is now not invading our personal space.
    ‘It stops here; I will fight you every time you are going to belt me. I will fight you! It stops here today ; tomorrow, forever , ’ I decree.
    ‘Just wait ‘til your