Tag: abuse

  • I Wish Mummy Didn’t Kill Me

    I wish mummy didn’t kill me!

    This is a story about a young boy with a huge heart. And it’s a story that everyone should read and share.
    The story is about James, but ultimately, it isn’t about him. It is, about millions of other children like James, living the same nightmare across the entire world today.

    This story of James is fictional, its message hit me right in the heart . We must not ignore this issue or message.

    We must not forget James.
    My name is James and I am  6-years-old. I love my mummy and daddy, but I’m also very scared of them. They often hit me and I don’t understand or know why.

    This morning I woke up and went to school. I am good learning and do as I’m told and my teacher likes me.

    I like all my classmates, too, but I have no friends. That’s why I usually stay indoors during breaks. Nobody wants to play with me. I tried to make friends with the other children, but they said No and also said I was disgusting.

    They laugh at me because I wear the same worn-out jeans, t-shirt and torn shoes every day.

    One day after school I went into the coat room and stole a jacket that was hanging there for a long time, nobody seemed to be missing it. Then I went home alone through the snowstorm. I was shivering with cold and it was hard to walk against the strong wind. Suddenly someone pushed me forward, I fell down in the snow and someone pressed my face into it. Then they said:

    “No one likes you. Idiot!”

    They kicked me in my back and in my stomach, then they ran away and left me in the cold snow.

    I cried. Not because I was cold or injured, I cried because I did not have a single friend, even though I liked everyone else.

    As soon as I got home, my mummy ran over and grabbed me by the hair.

    “Where have you been? Why are you so wet and dirty? Bloody kid, no dinner for you, go to your room and stay there.”

    I did as my mummy told me, I went into my room and did not get out until the next day, although I was very hungry and freezing cold.

    My school work got worse and worse, and every time daddy was informed, he hit me hard. Once he hit me so hard that I could not move my index finger, I never got back the movement in my index finger and all the children laughed at me for it.

    Time went by and one day I got a lot of pain in my chest.

    Mummy and daddy did not care I was hurt. In the evening I lay in my bed and I only wanted one thing. I wish I would not hurt more, because I did not want to annoy Mummy and Daddy. I love them so much, I really do.

    The next day at school we were told to paint our biggest dream. The other children painted cars, rockets and nice dolls. I did not.

    Not because I don’t like those things, but because what I wished for most of all was a loving mummy and daddy. So I painted a family. One mummy, one daddy and their son. They played games and everyone was happy. As I painted, I cried silently. I would love to have a mummy and daddy who loved me.

    When it was my turn to show  my painting for the class, everyone laughed at me.

    I stood in front of the class and explained:

    “My biggest dream is a loving family”.

    The laughs got louder. I began to cry and said,

    “Please don’t laugh at me, this is my biggest dream! You can hit me, you can hate me, but I beg you, please don’t laugh at me.

     want parents like you have, that hug and laugh with me, who pick me up after school and are happy to see me. I know I’m ugly and weak, I know I have a crooked finger, but please don’t laugh at me.”

    The teacher tried to wipe my tears, I think some children understood me, but many continued to laugh.

    One day when I got a test back, I immediately saw that I had a bad result. I knew my mummy would be very upset.

    I was afraid to go home, but I did not know where else I would go. I slowly walked home, but I did not want to arrive. My mummy became furious.

    She grabbed me and threw me on the floor, I hit my leg hard on a chair.

    Then she hit me in my head twice. I just lay there, I could not get up. It really hurt. But mummy just left me there on the floor.

    When she came back she told me to clean up the mess, otherwise when Daddy came home he would really beat me.

    I begged Mummy not to say anything to him, but when I looked up, I saw that he was already in the doorway.

    When Mummy told him about the test, he pulled me up from the floor, he shook me and hit my face.

    I don’t remember anything after this. I woke up in the hospital. I looked at my hand, I could not touch any of my five fingers. I looked out the window and cried.

    Outside, I saw parents playing with their children, throwing balls together and hugging.

    Do you know why I cried?

    I don’t know how a hug from my mom feels like. My parents just beat me, but I love them anyway. I’ve always done my best, I’ve been good at school, but they do not like me still.

    One day I spilled some of my water, then they hit me again.

    Suddenly I got pain in my chest again. I told my mummy – but she did not care. After a while, I had to go to the hospital again, no one came and saw me.

    The doctor said that mum and dad would probably come the next day, but they did not. I waited and waited, but nobody came. I love my parents anyway.

    Two days later, James died of his injuries. In his hand the doctors found a letter that he had not written clearly.

    “Dear mummy and daddy, I’m terrified because I’m ugly, disgusting and stupid. I’m sorry because you can not love me.

    I never wanted to annoy you. All I wanted was to get a hug and hug from mummy, and hear that you loved me once. Daddy I just wanted you to play with me, hold my hand for a walk or sing for me.

    I know I’m a shame for you. I will never be those things.“

    Then James’s little heart stopped.

    This story was originally written in Russian. I’m not sure if it’s been true, but I think that matters little. It’s incredibly important anyway!

    All children are entitled to be loved. Still child abuse happens every second, every minute, every hour and every day. In all countries, all cities and all schools.

    A child’s home should be free from violence and a safe place. Children need love, tenderness and closeness, and a hug can sometimes be worth a lot more than you could ever imagine.

    Please share this story with all your friends on Facebook to remind everyone that no child should ever feel hurt or unloved.

    If you suspect a child is being abuse don’t hesitate in reporting it: https://www.gov.uk/report-child-abuse

  • Horrific Care Home Abuse Please Help Us Get Justice

    The police have confirmed we are entitled to share our story about Mona Cliffe Care Home, Littleborough and the main abuser Lesley Hainsworth. I will warn you, this may make you cry. No one living with dementia, or vulnerable in anyway, should have to go through this.

    Please help us with our call to action and share this story far and WIDE. Thank you.

    You can help by signing the petition, here: https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions/258498/sponsors/new?token=OktxwPDveFuoiJguB1QP

    “Help me! Help! Help! Help! Help! Help!” he cried over and over again, shouting to try and raise the alarm. “Shut up you idiot! Shut up!” was the only response he got as he was roughly assaulted, and pressure placed on the existing sore.

    “Get your legs in bed! Get your legs in bed! If you don’t, I’ll take you downstairs and leave you alone in a dark room. Now get your legs in bed!” The woman eventually storms out the room shouting “Oh bog off” leaving him sat alone in the dark.

    Alone in the dark, he calls out for help “Freda, Fredaaaaaa!” No response. The man takes off his wet underwear, grabs a towel and attempts to clean himself. Eventually someone arrives “Get your legs back in bed!” The man listens and gets his legs back into his wet bed.

    A few moments later he is in such discomfort he gets back out of bed. Another person enters the room and asks if he wants to get up. “Let’s get this wet t-shirt off you” she says, and carefully puts a clean one on. No washing or bathing involved. The woman asks what happened when he was on the carpet and hurt his back. He responds,” She pushed me”. The woman says, “no one here would you push you”. He responds, “You weren’t here when it happened”. As she gets him ready to take him downstairs for breakfast, he says he needs the toilet, the woman tells him to urinate where he is “you won’t leak, you have a pad on”.

    Its 7pm, the man is weary, he is distressed, he is cold and can’t get warm, sat alone in a room with no heating as the snow falls outside. He has no drink, no means to call for help, and he cries when his granddaughter walks in “I need to go to hospital”. His granddaughter touches his hot face, his head hangs low, he brings his cold hands and little blanket up to his chin trying to get warm. He shivers. His granddaughter asks if he needs a drink? “Yes please”. She seeks out help and a drink and asks for the GP to be called, she is worried her Grandfather may be displaying signs of wound infection. The carer expresses concerns that the man may have had a TIA. She refuses to turn the heating on, saying “I don’t do heating”.

    That night the GP arrives at 10pm. He enters the bedroom of the man, with the same woman who shouted at him the previous night. She suggests that the GP was only called to appease family and they have no concerns. The GP checks temperature and pulse and leaves. He doesn’t check the red raw sore covering half of the mans back because the woman tells him its already been checked.

    The man wakes, mutters his bed is wet through and begins calling for support. Forty minutes later the woman arrives. Does she slap him? We’re not quite sure. Her arm is just off the edge of the video footage. The man says he doesn’t want her there. “You can lay in pee for all I care” is the response. She instructs him to move, her colleague suggests using the proper equipment, the woman threatens the man “I’ll get the hoist, shall I?” Eventually he is able to make his unresponsive body, do as he is being asked. “It’s hurting me” he says. “You will hurt!” She responds, “I’m not pissing about anymore, everyone’s too andy pandy with you. Ridiculous!” and she instructs the other woman to ensure the head of his bed is put down “he’s not getting up again!” and they leave him alone in the dark, restrained, once more.

    One hour later he begins to try and get up, but it is a huge struggle because of the position the bed is now in. The restraint of the bed however is not enough to stop him and eventually he manages to sit up. This time the alarm does not sound. He calls for help, but again, there is no response. He uses all of his energy to muster up the courage and coordination to stand, and he stumbles to his door, again calling for help. No response. He falls into his chair, and then sees his commode. He tries to get to his bed, nearly cracking his head against the wall as he crash-lands backwards onto his mattress. Recovering he leans towards the commode, but he cannot open it. Eventually he gives up. He attempts to get himself dressed, spending 20 minutes trying to get his socks on, both socks end up on the same foot.

    After 40 minutes a woman eventually enters the room. “What are you doing?”, “Drying myself” he says wiping his body with the bed sheet. The woman who told him to ‘bog off’ the night before enters and tells him to stand up “You can when you want to!” After several attempts to stand she shouts, “You’re going in that hoist, we’re not messing about!”

    Confused the man says, “Take your glasses off”, “No I won’t take my glasses off, you’re not bossing me around! I’m telling you!” The man tells her to get off “No, I won’t get off” she shouts, as he cries out in pain. He shouts “get off me” again and is ignored as she roughly pulls a hoist across the bottom half of his back that is still weeping from the huge sore he has. He cries out again “Give me a minute?”. “No, you won’t do anything we tell you so you’re going in the hoist!”

    The hoist is carelessly and roughly attached. Nothing is placed around his legs to aid his standing and take pressure away from the sore on his back. He cries out in pain over and over again. “Shut up you idiot, shut up!” he begins crying for help. “Help me! Help! Help! Help! Help! Help!” he cried over and over again, shouting to try and raise the alarm. “Shut up you idiot! Shut up!” was the only response he got as he was roughly assaulted, and pressure placed on the existing sore.

    Now she pulls and pushes him using the hoist strap wrapped around his painful sore back that is still a large open wound, a category two pressure sore. She grabs his wrists forcefully and her colleague grabs his legs with no warning, and they swing him around on to the bed. He calls out in pain again. “Shut up idiot!” is the only response. He gives up crying for help, resided by the fact that no one will come. They turn the light off and leave the room in silence. Again, he is left alone.

    He gets up right away. The woman comes back “We’re fed up of you. Everybody here is fed up of you! Get in bed! You’re waking everybody up. GET IN BED!” She leaves and the other woman returns. He gets his legs back in bed, she pulls the cover half over his body and he says, “thank you”. She leaves. “They don’t realise what they are doing” he says to an empty room.

    Much later he is in so much discomfort he calls out in pain. He calls for help, calls for his wife. After 40 minutes someone comes and says she will be back. Another 15 minutes and they return. “Is he asleep, friggin’ leave him!” then immediately pulls all of his bed covers away from his body. He lays there unable to move half sat up, half lay down skewered across the bed with nothing, not even underwear on the lower half of his body. It is dark outside. She turns the tap on “Oh its bloody cold! How are we meant to clean them with cold water” and then proceeds to roughly scrub the man a with the freezing cold flannel. He cries out in shock and discomfort. He is lay on the sore part of his back, his calves hanging over the edge of the bed, his head lifted off the mattress, but he can’t get up. He cries out in pain “Oh shut up! You’re having a wash, because you stink! Because you peed everywhere”. “I didn’t” he proclaims. “Yes, you did!” She proceeds to wash him with the unrinsed and cold flannel, on his face.

    She raises the bed and continues to move him. He calls out in pain, he is in so much discomfort. He cries “you’ve got to get off” almost as if using his last ounce of effort. “No, I won’t get off!”. She surprises him with cold deodorant sprayed near his under arm and he calls out in shock. “Are you a man or a mouse?” she laughs at him, the colleague laughs at him too, and they both laugh at him together while he sits undressed in front of two strangers he doesn’t know with no dignity or energy left in him. “I think the more you andy pandy with him…You’ve just got to get it done, haven’t you?” The colleague agrees. “It’s freezing downstairs” she says as they get him into his wheelchair and shout at him to “SIT” he calls out in pain again and again.

    This was my Grandad. A few days earlier he had been happy at my Nana’s 80th birthday out with all of the family. He got so upset when we had to take him back to the care home, he had been living in for less than two weeks. We as a family had tried to take care of him at home, but his mobility and large physique meant that we couldn’t physically do it. All those years playing rugby for Littleborough had given him some huge muscles!

    My Grandad went in to Mona Cliffe on Monday 14th January 2019. He was walking, talking and happy in himself. Within a week they said he couldn’t walk, and they wouldn’t allow family to use his walking frame with him. We were concerned and so asked another care home to come out and assess him. Due to the snow, they couldn’t do this for another week. When they came out, they discovered a huge pressure sore across half of his back. They immediately reported it to adult safeguarding and requested a GP come to see him right away. The following day when family asked, the GP still had not been contacted. Family did it on his behalf.

    One staff member said he did it to himself, apparently, he threw himself down on the floor in the lounge and shimmied across the floor and caused a carpet burn on his back. Another said he fell off his bed and did it on the floor shimmying across the floor in his room, laughing with his trousers down. The doctor said it was a pressure sore. You can see the sores in the images below. How had this gone unnoticed?

    Our concerns with the home led me to purchase a hidden camera. We had the hidden camera up for less than 48 hours before removing him from the home and taking him to hospital as we had nowhere else to go. The hospital staff were horrified at the bruising and pressure sore my Grandad had. My Grandad told the nurse he had been hit by the staff there. He was severely dehydrated.

    My Grandad died three weeks later. His death certificate stated he died of Sepsis (Blood infection), caused by a severe urine infection. Secondary cause of death was Acute Kidney Injury.

    My Grandad was a great man. He was on the committee for Littleborough Cricket Club for many years. He used to call the Bingo on a Friday night there when I was younger too. My Grandad was a kind, caring, loving Grandad. He was always singing and smiling; he was a very special man. He was so polite, a gentle giant. He isn’t here anymore, and we as a family blame Mona Cliffe for that. The majority of the staff there were absolutely awful, although there were a couple of nice people working there too.

    The main abuser of my Grandad was Lesley Hainsworth, the woman in the photo below. She was suspended from work and interviewed by police. The police took several agonising weeks to determine if they could prosecute her for her actions caught on camera. Eventually they decided that the evidence we had provided on the video (all of which is written above) was not enough to reach their threshold for prosecution. So now this woman is back working at Mona Cliffe with vulnerable adults. Please do check your loved ones are safe. We do not want this to happen to anyone else. We were informed not to speak publicly about this until after the investigation came to completion. Otherwise we would have done it sooner.

    Three months after our first request, and we are still waiting on Dr Sharma the owner of Mona Cliffe to provide us with my Grandfather’s records.

    What is our call to action?

    1) The Police prosecution threshold should not be so high. The abuse my Grandad received falls under four abuse categories as part of the law provided by The Care Act. Institutional Abuse, Psychological Abuse, Physical Abuse, and Neglect. There are more than 25 separate types of abuse reported on my Grandad under the four categories. The Police threshold needs to be lowered.

    2) All care homes should have a booklet provided to families about the minimum expected requirements and who to contact if you are concerned, they are not being met.

    3) Audio recording technology in all care homes to prevent vulnerable people being treated so cruelly.

    4) The CQC should be updating their reports when serious complaints like this are submitted. Apparently, there was a similar serious complaint about Mona Cliffe 12 months ago. If we had known this, we would have not placed my Grandfather in their care.

    https://www.facebook.com/JusticeforGraham/

  • I Finally Found The Strength To Leave Him

    I finally found the strength to leave him. He’s been abusing me for the almost 2 years we’ve been together. The first time was because he couldn’t find his controller and this last time was because I went out on a Saturday night and went to a bar he doesn’t like and didn’t text back for 26 minutes.

    This is what it looks like when you’re woken up being beaten. This is what a skull fractured in 4 areas looks like. This is what somebody with bleeding on their brain from being hit so hard looks like after being held in a corner and beaten continuously.

    If you’re being abused just know he will NEVER get better…. nothing you say or do will make them change… I spent months dealing with the mental attacks. “you’re fat”, “ you’re nothing” “you’re ugly and nobody will ever want you”. All the way to since I lost my baby I failed life and would never be worthy enough for love.

    This escalated to him hitting me more and more. He’ll pretend he’s sorry & shower you with words of love and gifts. hell, he’ll even visibly show his supposed change just to get that hold back over your head for a week or two but he’ll always be the same. He wasn’t always terrible. He showed love and happiness but if he can hit you once it’ll escalate and continue happening.

    I miss the old him that I knew. The one that loved unconditionally and made me melt with one look. The one that made me feel so good about myself and beautiful but I’m here instead moving back into my moms because the cops can’t find him to serve a restraining order and I have no idea where he is to get him off the sts away from me.

    Yes I left him and yes I’m scared he’ll come retaliate but I’m SO proud and happy I left… if you’re being abused please leave. There are people there for you, don’t stay out of loniness ‘cause ya know what??? Being lonely is better than being dead. Not seeking pity or attention either I just need People to know it’s not just them and there is a way out.

    Kelly Kennedy

     

  • The Man Who Was So Badly Abused He was 10 Days From Death

    When Alex Skeel was finally taken to a hospital in June 2017, doctor’s told him he was 10 days away from death.

    His girlfriend at the time, Jordan Worth, subjected Alex to a year of torture and domestic violence and for nine months between 2016 – 2017, Alex was forced to sleep on the floor of their Bedfordshire home using clothes as blankets and pillows.

    During one period, Alex was forced to ingest an entire packet of sleeping pills before going to a fair with Jordan.

    Alex was only allowed to seek medical treatment after the police were called when Jordan had hit him in the arm with a bread knife, cutting Alex so deeply he almost bled out.

    During their relationship, Jordan would throw boiling water on Alex while he slept, beat him on a daily basis, telling him that anytime she missed a day, she would then make up for it the following night.

    Alex was never allowed to seek out medical attention for any of his injuries and at one point, was forced to pull out one of his teeth after Worth had struck him violently with a hairbrush.

    In 2017 Jordan was sentenced to 7 years in prison on the charges of grievous bodily harm and an additional 6 months for coercive and abusive behaviour. She is the first woman in the entire United Kingdom to have been handed this sentence..

    He had two children with Jordan and believed that if he didn’t take the abuse, she would turn her attention on to their children.

    The abuse also didn’t start immediately, it was small things here and there at first.

    Alex endured his torture purely to protect his own children as Jordan has threatened multiple times that she would injure their children.

    Domestic Abuse doesn’t just affect woman, if you are a victim of domestic abuse, be it emotional, financial or physical please speak out, please find the strength to walk away

  • The Man Who Slapped My Baby Walks Away Scot-free

    Last option i wanted to do. But i relied on the police to take matters into their own hands and serve the time towards him for hurting my son. Not just a slap on the wrist and get let out. Sat at home all happy as ever now. You slapped my son across the face that hard it bruised his ears and left a full hand print on his face not red marks full bruises . You deserved time for what you did to my 2-year-old son! A child you claimed to of ‘loved like your own’ its about time I named and shamed you.

    It’s not fair at all the justice system is fucked😡. I’ve also contacted my local mp I aint giving up you deserve to do time for what you did . Even if it means me appealing and having to go through court again ill do it !!! CONNOR BROOK you absolute monster. It’s about time everyone knew what you did and who you are! You aint the innocent person people think you are!😡 I promise I aint giving up you will serve time for hurting my child!

    The Man Who Slapped My Baby Walks Away Scot-free
    The Man Who Slapped My Baby Walks Away Scot-free

    Everyone SHARE the fuck out of this!!!! (Photos added of my sons face so everyone out their also knows what he did to my son, and how a mess his face was because that’s what this horrible human being did) all cause its his first offence he got away😡. ( people who want to believe ‘how do we know it was him and not her’ well the court we had in october our last court it was finding a fact hearing, he admitted it in court if he didn’t admit it and she couldn’t decide who had done it my son would have gone up for adoption bit of common sense really) plus if I wanted to i can get proof off my solicitor .

    I bet he couldn’t prove it though cause he signed the paper work where he confessed. 🤷🏽‍♀️ more fool you if you believe him but don’t be so stupid my son wouldn’t be in my arms right now if i had done this plus the medical shows LARGE left HAND which im right-handed and also have very tiny hands🤷🏽‍♀️ Nicole Louise hinde

  • You Are Strong, You Can Walk Away From An Abuser

    An abusive person uses threats and violence to keep a victim compliant.

    To manipulate,.destruct and destroy.

    In a place where they have control

    Fearful to make eye contact for fear of retribution.

    They don’t want you to gaze at them

    If challenged.a coward will run

    They will see the pain in your eyes

    And perhaps

    They see themselves reflected back.

    Evil, cruel, callous and unkind.

    Then they lose the grip and over on you

    So please I’m absolutely begging you

    Left your head and see the world as a beautiful place

    See the abuser for what they are

    Cold staring ugly weasel eyes.

    No light will ever reach their soul.

    Only the fires that burn in hell

    Go back to the mirror please look again

    Detach the wounded inner self

    Love forgive and console your self

    Gaze upon a survivors reflection

    Look deep in to their eyes

    Deep down inside

    To go down to the absolute depths of despair.

    There’s only one way to go now

    Up up up up and up again

    Gaining control of your own destiny

    Please take heart things get better

    Let others love you and find out how special that you are.

    Let down the guard.

    Learn to trust your own instincts

    Draw upon your strengths

    There is no room at the inn to fail

    As my dear please believe in yourself

    Your worth a million bullies

    Strong dignified and pure inside.

    You didn’t want or ask for it

    Go into your soul and bring out the light

    With trust and compassion

    With your dignity and poise

    These are your gifts no one can destroy

    Please don’t believe ugly names toy we’re often called.

    Reverse your thinking strategy

    These names they shout is who

    They really are not you.

    Be true to you and only you

    Be brave and stand your ground

    Be your own saviour

    Remove the brick wall of isolation

    Let the hurt child in you move on

    Only then you can believe and dream

    Get help and close the wounded part

    There will always be scars and confusion

    But don’t let these people dictate

    Your life now free of aBuse

    Chin up and look up

    Be proud of all your little victories

    And rejoice breaking that cycle

    Of pain, confusion, and suffering.

    Be strong as you have survived

    And you are slowly starting to heal

    Don’t waste time on drink and drugs

    It doesn’t help and you will

    Just get arrested and locked up.

    The pain and heartache will

    Still be there in the cold daylight.

    Credit Diane Ginn

  • Pedophile Decoy This Is Why I Do It

    As a child I was sexually abused and I was silenced. When I turned 21 it all came out and that was only because my mum had found out the person who had abused me and my younger sister had been convicted and spent time in jail for the crime. My mum was so angry as there was nothing she could do as he died in 1984… my mum blamed herself and suffered from depression she was really in a bad place and many times tried to take her own life

    I felt powerless all I wanted was for my mum to get better watching her suffer like she did was heart breaking .

    I never once blamed my mum for the abuse and for me I just put it to the back of my mind . Then in 1991 I gave birth to my daughter that’s when I started to realise I needed help I wouldn’t let any one near her in fear that she would be hurt. I didn’t want any monsters near her. I had to protect her from what I had gone through, I did.

    Her father then started drinking heavy and hitting me I was so scared but also defended myself I tried so many times to escape the physical abuse he was putting me thru finally I escaped from him. I remember like it was yesterday how he begged me for another chance I was strong and told him no it was very hard for me as I had never been on my own before.

    A few years later I met Scott who is now my husband we have three children together and are very happy. Then in 2010 everything changed . Two thugs who lived on the same Street committed murder right across the road from where I live. They tried to snatch my daughter who was 4 almost 5 out of my arms and threatened to kill my whole family if Scott didn’t drive them away from the scene.

    As wrong as it was Scott did drive them away. I phoned the police straight away and told them what had happened it was so bloody scary. Later than night Scott was arrested for assisting an offender… after 2 days of him being locked up he was released without charge. Many people came forward to give evidence.

    The following year I was losing weight I was only 7 stones at my heaviest and everything came flooding back to me from my childhood to the domestic violence I suffered. I was paranoid someone was going to hurt me or my babies . Doctors put me on anti depressants to help me make it through each day.

    The following year we had to give evidence over the murder and for once in my life I felt strong. That same year I fell pregnant. I was 42 at the time and OK 42 and pregnant but I was so happy I was going to be a new mum again. Again my thoughts all came back about my childhood I wouldn’t leave my precious baby alone.

    I finally decided it was unhealthy and I got counselling. I am free from all my demons now… then one day last year I was browsing Facebook and came across paedophile hunters I wanted to help and become a decoy.

    Why did I want to become a decoy the answer is simple for me I didn’t want any child to suffer at the hands of a paedophile . Being a decoy is the hardest thing I have done…. no one really believes you when you say you get dick pics and that’s just the 1st message then u say to them your age that doesn’t stop them.

    The amount of times you mention your age is un true. One of the groomers wanted to get close to my mum so he could see me. Being a decoy is helping save a real child … when I am decoying I feel raged and angry at the same time hoping and praying that the predator isn’t talking to a real child .

    The predators are very demanding and controlling. Some are slow groomers then you get the ones who want to talk about sex want nudes want you to do video calling it’s never-ending . I think please if there is a God up they’d please don’t let this groomer have a real child.

    So after weeks of them grooming you .. you then get a sting… they are arrested but it doesn’t end there for either the Hunter or decoy they have to submit their evidence and hope the paedophile pleads guilty… it still doesn’t stop there it’s on your mind 24/7 .

    Sometimes the justice system fails sometimes they get what they deserve. It’s still not the end of it there as you know there are still more to be caught …. you can not judge what a paedophile looks like they come in all shapes sizes and creed and colour … just remember one thing if you talk to underage children we will find we will expose you for what you are…..

    I have had my bad days where I wanna cry as I think please please don’t let there be a real child involved I am more alert now even though I am a survivor myself I look at people differently and I will always do my dammed hardest to carry on protecting all the children . I am here to protect children nothing will stop me. #forthechildren #kks

    Please take a look at KKS facebook page to follow other decoys and hunters catching pedophiles

    https://m.facebook.com/K.K.S.est2017/

  • Social Service Baby Snatching Is A Myth-Read My Story

    I’ve seen many many posts recently about social services baby snatching etc. And I want to share my experience as mum whose child was removed.

    When my son was 11 months old, he was removed from my care by social services. He wasn’t snatched, he wasn’t stolen. Though I spent years believing he was. It’s only been the last two or three years I’ve seen things clear enough to be able to accept blame for my own actions.

    When ‘James’ was born, I developed, rapidly, post natal depression. But, listening to horror stories about how SS took babies, I didn’t tell anyone. I hid it. Within weeks the PND developed into post partum psychosis. I used to attack my partner. I used to self harm. I saw and heard things that weren’t there. I couldn’t bear to be near my baby, because I thought him crying meant he hated me.

    But I would physically attack family who tried to care for him, from a belief they wanted to steal or hurt him. For months, I stopped washing myself, stopped cleaning the house, stopped bathing the baby and only wet wipe washed him. I fed him, cleaned his bum, and did the bare minimum. He became sad, pale and withdrawn. My partner at the time, did his very best to try to help me and care for the baby. But with me threatening to kill myself and cutting myself and seeing things, he was so dedicated to my needs, James didn’t get the interaction he needed.

    He was often wearing the same clothes, because I wouldn’t change them. For some reason I got it into my head that they were lucky clothes and if I washed them he wouldn’t be protected from the things I was seeing and hearing. This all happened when James was around 6 months old. Health visitors started noticing things weren’t right, I refused to engage. Told them everything was fine and to basically fuck off. Then, at 11 months old, social services turned up took one look at the situation, and took James into care. I spent two years fighting them rather than actually working with them. I believed I was wronged by the system and they’d seen me as an easy target so snatched my baby for their bonuses. Name a SS conspiracy, I believed it.

    I spent the next four years after his removal, working on myself. Repairing what was broken. I dug myself out of that hole. My son was never returned, and rightfully so. In time, I had a daughter, six years after James removal. I spent three months in a parenting assessment unit. Cctv staff 24/7 never unsupervised etc. I passed that assessment with flying colours. Including the psych assessment. Three years after that, I had another son. This time social services didn’t even feel the need to be involved, such is the extent of my recovery.

    It took 5 years for me to realise my son was neglected in my care. It took me 5 years to accept I was wrong and not SS. It took me years to stabilise myself and to be the mentally competent person I am today

    What happened to me hurts. It breaks my heart. However, it probably breaks James more, wherever he may be.

    I’m sharing my story to show that when you read these horror stories about SS, there’s always two sides to the story. And the story you often hear, is that of grieving parents who can’t see where they went wrong, and think loving their child is enough.

  • Teach Your Children To Look After Others

    You know when you were younger and you did something real stupid because your mates told you to? And then your mum would say ‘if your mates told you to jump off a cliff would you do it? Obviously you got her point and knew you wouldn’t do anything too silly because you understood the difference between silly… and silly silly!

    Well this is my son Jacob. He is 16 and autistic. He doesn’t understand the difference between silly silly. If someone tells Jacob to do something and he thinks they will like him because of this, then Jacob does it. No matter how dangerous.

    A group of Jacobs ‘friends’ told Jacob to go and pick up a deodorant can that had been chucked into a fire. Jacob did it. He didn’t understand what would happen and everyone thought it was funny.

    The can blew up in my sons face. His head caught on fire. They all laughed. NOBODY called an ambulance. Nobody called me. NOBODY walked him home. Nobody tried to put out the fire on his head. He ran into Tesco’s holding his blistering face and ran his head under the hot tap because he didn’t know which one to use because he couldn’t see.

    NOBODY asked him if he was okay. NOBODY stopped him and asked him if he needed help. Jacob then walked home. I heard the screams as he walked up to the house.

    Teach Your Children To Look After Others
    Teach Your Children To Look After Others

    Jacob was rushed to RVI (Royal Victoria Infirmary) burns unit last night. Luckily he only has 1st degree burns to his face. His hair is singed and he has black eyes from the impact. He also has a bruise and cut to his thigh where the can hit him so hard it cut open his leg. If that had hit him in the face my son could be blind.

    I am writing this to ask you to not only remind your children of their own safety but also be considerate of those more vulnerable than themselves. Jacob got off lightly. He had a lucky escape. So did the people who encouraged him to do something so obviously silly when it is dangerous. Because if he had not been so lucky this might have had a permanent impact on everyone involved.

    Be kind. Don’t just be kind to yourself but be kind to people who need you to be kind to them. And teach your children to look after the kids that need looking after and are a bit ‘different’

    It’s an important lesson. One that we could all do with remembering.

    Please share this to raise awareness of the dangers of playing with fire and also those people in a less fortunate position than yourselves.

    Thanks to everyone that helped with Jacob last night.

    Kerry Louise

  • My Wife Beats Me, I’m Afraid I’m Going To Hurt Her

    My wife beats me

    My wife beats me and I’m afraid I’m going to hurt her. I love my wife dearly and want to fix our marriage but I’m afraid of what might happen. I’m 6ft 2in 210lbs I bench 300lbs with ease and my wife is  about 5ft 9 and 125lbs.

    We have our good and our bad days but on our worse days which happen more often than not lately she hits me . I have never hit my wife in an abusive way, but I’m afraid that eventually I won’t be able to control my anger when she hits me and I’ll end up seriously hurting her.

    I am a man I should not be scared of my wife, I cannot talk to my friends or family about it , surely they would laugh in my face, a grown man being battered by his woman.

    The above is what I wrote into Mums advice Facebook page after a rather nasty incident with her, she had poured boiling water on to my lap, it took all my strength not to punch her in the throat.

    Little did I know that woman would rally round me and tell me that I am not weak, that I am not worthless, that actually I am really strong for having the strength not to hurt her back. I spoke with many woman that night and through their words I saw my relationship for what it was.

    I am now free from abuse but this isn’t actually about me this is about you, you the man being humiliated, the man being hurt or you the woman who loses her temper and throws a punch knowing full well your man won’t strike back.

    I urge any man or woman who is in a violent or belittling relationship to get out or get help, do not let the words or actions bring you down.

    Abused men can reach out to the following organizations for help: