Chapter 1

In my childhood, everything seemed to fit neatly into boxes. Each box held a part of my life—my family, my dreams, my fears. But as I grew older, I realised these boxes were more like cages, confining me to a reality I struggled to understand.

Family Life

I was born into a world that felt both comforting and chaotic. My family, like a patchwork quilt, was stitched together with both love and tension, anger and violence. My parents had their own battles, navigating the complexities of life while trying to raise me and my four other brothers and three sisters. I was the youngest of 8 children. I remember moments of laughter interspersed with silence and fear—an uncomfortable silence that often spoke louder than words.

There were nights when I’d lie in bed, listening to the muffled arguments through the thick victorian walls. They were big old houses in Liverpool often with large families. I learned to read the air, to sense when things were about to erupt. In those moments, I sought refuge in my imagination, crafting stories where everything was perfect, where love was unconditional, and where I was safe.

I knew I was far from safe, I had learned from a very early age things that a young boy should not know.

When the decision was made to send me into care, it felt like my whole world had been upended but I was desperate to escape the brutal part of my life that seemed wrong yet at times seemed so right. I packed my belongings into a single, worn suitcase, the edges frayed and the zipper straining under the weight of items that represented my past. Each item was a memory—a favourite toy, a tattered book, a photograph of happier times. I left behind the boxes of my childhood, but the memories lingered like ghosts. It was two weeks before my 15th birthday.

The Beginning My mind was racing as I recalled the events of that day. I had arrived at the office in the early afternoon, filled with a mixture of anticipation and dread. As the hours ticked by, I became increasingly aware of the many phone calls buzzing in the background. It was nearly evening when finally, they found me a place—a care home about ten miles away from the only home I had ever known.

The Transfer By the time we arrived, dusk was settling in, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch across my thoughts. I was handed over to the house master, a man whose presence felt imposing as he greeted me. He was dressed in a green bathrobe and looked like he had just gotten out of the shower. My social worker, a blur of urgency, handed him my blue file and rushed away in his car, no doubt eager to return to the comfort of his own life.

The house master led me up a narrow staircase, the wooden steps creaking underfoot as we ascended into his office. The air felt heavy with unspoken expectations. As we entered, he stopped and locked the door behind us, a sound that echoed ominously in my ears.

An Unsettling Encounter I stood in front of his desk, feeling small and exposed. He settled into his chair, his gaze fixed on me as he opened the blue folder. The room was adorned with trophies from various sports and pictures of boats, a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling in my mind. My eyes wandered, searching for something familiar, something comforting amidst the chaos.

But then I noticed his expression change as he flipped through the pages, reading one in particular over and over. A knot tightened in my stomach as I sensed the shift in his demeanour.

“Those clothes are for you,” he said finally, his tone devoid of warmth. “Undress.”

Stripped of Control I hesitated for a moment, the weight of his command hanging heavy in the air. With trembling hands, I stripped down to my underwear, feeling the cold air brush against my skin. “Everything,” he instructed, a chill running down my spine.

As I stood there, exposed and vulnerable, he motioned for me to come closer. “I need to check your okay, no bruises.” The words felt clinical, as if I were an object to be inspected rather than a person in a fragile state.

Closing Thoughts In that moment, a whirlwind of emotions surged within me—fear, confusion, and a desperate need for safety. I was caught in a web of uncertainty, my mind racing to make sense of the situation. As I approached him, I knew that this was just the beginning of a new chapter in my life, one that would challenge everything I thought I knew about trust, safety, and control.

A Flicker of Hope As I stood there, a mix of emotions swirled inside me. Part of me felt a strange excitement while waiting in the office, a flicker of hope that perhaps this was the beginning of something better. The fear of the unknown loomed, but I clung to the belief that I was safe now. I would be meeting new friends, maybe even going on field trips. Finally, things might get better. No more running away.

The Atmosphere Yet, the room had a peculiar smell that clung to the air. It wasn’t the stale scent of cigarette smoke; it was something else—something that set my senses on edge. My eyes drifted to his desk, where I noticed thin, dark-brown hand-rolled cigarettes, their presence adding to the unease settling in my stomach.

Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with encyclopaedias and history books on war, they’re spines worn from use. Knowledge contained within those pages seemed to contrast sharply with the reality of my situation. My gaze landed on a long bamboo cane standing proudly next to the shelves, a small piece of green insulation tape wrapped around it. Its purpose felt ominous, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a reminder of authority—an object that embodied control.

Hunger and Fatigue I remembered feeling hungry and tired, the weight of the day settling heavily on my shoulders. It had been a long, drawn-out process filled with uncertainty, but now it seemed like it was finally coming to an end. Yet, as I stood in that office, I couldn’t ignore the gnawing sense of apprehension growing within me.

The promise of safety and companionship danced tantalisingly in my mind, but the room around me felt charged with an undercurrent of something darker—a tension that made my heart race and my thoughts swirl. What awaited me beyond this moment? Would my hope for a better life be realised, or was this just another chapter in a story I had yet to comprehend?

Closing Thoughts As I stood before him, the man who held my fate in his hands, I felt the duality of my emotions. I wanted to believe that I was entering a new world filled with possibilities, yet the shadows of doubt lingered. The day of waiting had come to a close, but I knew that the journey ahead would be anything but straightforward.

With a deep breath, I prepared to take the next step, aware that the path forward was fraught with uncertainty, yet yearning for the chance to finally find my place in a world that had always felt just out of reach.

The Encounter The man before me wasn’t particularly large; he had a small stature but a muscular build that spoke of his athleticism. I sensed a foreignness about him—Italian, perhaps. The bamboo cane leaning against the wall was a stark reminder of authority and punishment, and I felt a wave of embarrassment wash over me when he instructed me to undress. Vulnerability engulfed me as I stood there, small and thin for my age, and relatively fit.

I wore a vest and white underwear, and the warmth of the office contrasted sharply with the chill running down my spine. As I began to remove my clothing, a desperate hope flickered in my mind: Please don’t ask me to take off my underpants.