My second significant trauma

The Firework

I am seven years old now; I have suffered lots of other trauma since my first trauma, which I will write of later.

Now try to imagine yourself as a seven year old, without any previous trauma, at the end ask yourself, how you would cope with life, without any support of any kind?

At seven years old, I was very small for my age, more like a five year old.
One night, while out with friends, playing in bushes quite near home, just a few feet from a main street…

One moment I am in safe company then suddenly my friends are no where to be seen, they were replaced by a group of much older boys passing through, that I had never seen before. Non of them spoke as they passed me by to my right, suddenly, as best I can remember, one of them came up to me on my left shoulder and dropped a lit firework (a banger) down the back of my t-shirt. I was in instant terror yet again, and I knew just how dangerous a banger was.  I instinctively tried to put my right hand down the back of my t-shirt, to try to reach it, then this lad put his hand over mine, to stop me. (He was laughing loudly).

I desperately pulled my hand away and tried desperately to pull my t-shirt out of my jeans at the back, as this lad just disappeared.  Unfortunately, I was in so much panic and shock, I could not do this and I realised with the utmost horror that something dreadful was about to happen.  I remember just standing there all alone waiting for the explosion, bracing myself in terror for what was about to happen and I was so utterly helpless

You will have to use your imagination a bit here, as I try to explain what happened next. There was to me a huge explosion, at this moment I was in excruciating pain, and in incredible shock and fear, not wanting to live not wanting to die, I’m quite sure I must have lifted of the ground, as I smelled my own flesh burn in an instant. 
Now history repeat’s itself… my body charged forward screaming but leaving my mind behind, as I watched myself, running for my life, down an alleyway, towards home.  The next vision I have is being in the house screaming to one of my family, again I was outside watching this, and then everything went blank,

The next memory I have is of sitting with my mother in a courtroom, looking across to the lad’s mother. I was very, very scared and confused.  I glanced to the judge and the lad for a second, and asked my mother what they did to him. As I looked to his mother, she said the judge felt sorry for him, as he was only 17.

This is all the memory I have of the event’s and I will never know what sentence he actually got, but I bear the scar on my back, and the memories of my pain and the seemingly rejection of the judge of my suffering.

(I did not matter, I still don’t).

What I find most hurtful is that no one has ever talked to me about these experiences.  When I mention it to a doctor that I need to see what’s on my medical records, I only get silence, seemingly in my mind more rejection.

(I have relived all this every day of my whole life).

 

With care  

©Paul Davidson
2008