What was the point in telling? There was nothing Ms Latta
could do anyway. It would only stir up more trouble and
Tasha didn’t need to work at that. It seemed to happen
anyway without her actively going in search of it. She
couldn’t understand why but Ms Latta often behaved as if
she liked her. Having someone like her had been like having a
life belt thrown to her when she was drowning in her sea of
loneliness. She knew other girls at the home had been
sexually abused. It wasn’t often talked about but she had
heard staff members tell them not to blame themselves. It
wasn’t their fault.
Tasha felt sure that didn’t apply to her, though.
Maybe if she had been abused by just one person she could believe it wasn’t her fault, but being abused by four meant there had to be something about her that made it happen. If Ms Latta knew how dirty and awful she really was, how could she possibly go on liking her?
Besides, what was the use? When things went wrong there was no point in dwelling on them. Mum always said she made a fuss about nothing. ‘You have to put things behind you and look on the bright side,’ she would say. Tasha had often been puzzled about this because her parents didn’t seem to be able to put her drinking and smoking and missing school behind them. They brought it up all the time.
She supposed though, that telling would be making a fuss. Considering all of the other things that had happened, maybe it wasn’t such a big deal anyway.
Several weeks later, it was decided Natasha should go back home. She felt panic-stricken. Although she had hoped and hoped her parents would say they really wanted her, going home was very scary. If she went back to her old school she would get in with her gang again and the same thing would happen all over again. It she didn’t join them, they would make like really difficult for her.
She felt sick every time she thought of Dad and her brothers forcing themselves on her. She would go crazy if that happened again. Plans were going ahead though and a discharge date was being set. Natasha again thought of telling.
Tasha felt sure that didn’t apply to her, though.
Maybe if she had been abused by just one person she could believe it wasn’t her fault, but being abused by four meant there had to be something about her that made it happen. If Ms Latta knew how dirty and awful she really was, how could she possibly go on liking her?
Besides, what was the use? When things went wrong there was no point in dwelling on them. Mum always said she made a fuss about nothing. ‘You have to put things behind you and look on the bright side,’ she would say. Tasha had often been puzzled about this because her parents didn’t seem to be able to put her drinking and smoking and missing school behind them. They brought it up all the time.
She supposed though, that telling would be making a fuss. Considering all of the other things that had happened, maybe it wasn’t such a big deal anyway.
Several weeks later, it was decided Natasha should go back home. She felt panic-stricken. Although she had hoped and hoped her parents would say they really wanted her, going home was very scary. If she went back to her old school she would get in with her gang again and the same thing would happen all over again. It she didn’t join them, they would make like really difficult for her.
She felt sick every time she thought of Dad and her brothers forcing themselves on her. She would go crazy if that happened again. Plans were going ahead though and a discharge date was being set. Natasha again thought of telling.
