Stories from a Crazy Sub (or 10.000 ways to piss off your loving Dom)

17. Backstory part one

Warning: This is not one of my usual fun stories.

Trigger warning: Alcoholism, mental abuse

I've been suffering a bit lately...

First of all it's hot as Hell here! My brain is practically leaking out of my ears and I'm barely sleeping.

This has caused my second problem...

Because I am so incredibly tired, I have begun to doubt myself .

"People only read your book because they have nothing better to do right now"

"Why would they care about your backstory? Just write about something funny or stupid you did. People come here for the laughs not a boring sob story!"

"Can you even write it so it's coherent ?"

Yeah... My head is not a very nice place right now...

My past is not made up of puppy-dogs and rainbows.

But I'm not writing this to get sympathy. I just want to give you guys a glimpse of where I came from, so that you'll better understand how far I've come.

(God that sounds like a bad pop song)

Here goes nothing...

My mum was only 17 when she got pregnant with me. My father was 24 and stepped up and married her. Two years later my middle sister came along.

They both worked really hard to provide a home for us. And they actually scraped enough money together so that, by the time my baby sister came along, they had bought a house in a pretty nice community.

Things were not as nice inside the house though. My father had always liked his beer when he got home from work, but over the years it got worse.

By the time I was ten, my father drank himself to sleep every night and my mum was working more and more hours. My father still got up every morning at the crack of dawn to go to work and never missed a day. But when he got home and opened his first beer he transformed into a very angry and aggressive person. My mum took the brunt of it, but it still trickled down on us kids.

My mum got more and more hours at work and by the time I was twelve she was picking up overnight shifts.

That left me to take care of my sisters. So I had to cook dinner, help them with homework, put them to bed and get myself and them up and off to school with lunch in hand.

And since my mum wasn't at home, it was now my turn to take on my fathers alcoholic aggression.

"What the Hell is this crap you are serving for dinner? You can't even get something as simple as this right?!? It's inedible!! Make me something else!"

"You're too stupid to ever amount to anything!"

"No wonder you don't have any friends. Who would ever want to spend time with you if they didn't have to ?"

By the time I was thirteen my grades were suffering badly. I just couldn't muster up enough energy to care about school.

That's when my mum threw me a lifeline.

"If you get your grades up two levels, we will find the money to send you off to bording school"

I worked my ass off that school year. I had finally found something to care about. My grades went up and we found the perfect school for me.

I was fourteen when I went to the bording school.

And that was when I met Hubby!

He was fifteen and just so open and friendly. I could not believe that he would want to talk to me, but he did and my fourteen year old self swooned and sighed.

We talked and flirted and a couple of months later I invited him to my birthday. He said yes and braved the rainy October weather and my nosy family to come visit me at home.

He hadn't bought me a present. Instead he gave me my first kiss!

He was my first for a lot of things. My first Kiss. My first boyfriend. My first sexual partner. My first pregnancy scare.

And after dating for six months, he was my first heartbreak.

With only a couple of months left of the school year he didn't want to be tied down by a girlfriend. Especially when we didn't even know if we would be in the same part of the country when school was done.

I was broken. But I went with it. Not wanting to be "That girl".

I started trying to piece myself back together. So I reached out to an old family friend, just needing a friendly face and a shoulder to cry on.

I visited him in one of the off-weekends from school and we ended up in the sack together. Afterwards I was bawling my eyes out to him. Telling him how I just couldn't move back home to my father after school was over.

My parents had divorced while I was dating Hubby and my father had gotten custody since he earned more than my mum.

And I could just not see myself going back to the Hell that was my home-life.

The family friend had a solution though.

"If we start dating, you can just move in with me"

I was 15 and he was 28.

It was the only solution I could see. So I said yes.

Almost four months shy of my sixteenth birthday I moved over 200 kilometers away from my family to live with a man that was 13 years my senior.

That was the start of what I now "lovingly"call:
The Stupid Years!

The End
August 2. 2018

I'm planning two more backstory chapters.

- The Stupid Years

-Getting Back Together With My Hubby

Can you guys handle more sadness and stupidity or do you want me to cut it short?