Read Online A Mother's Story by Rosie Batty - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rosie Batty
Ads: Link
from a disadvantaged background. I had been paired with Karena. She was a lovely girl, sweet and good-natured, but deeply scarred after having been abandoned by her mother when she was only thirteen years old. When her mum got a new boyfriend, she suddenly didnât have room in her life for Karena anymore, so she left her in the care of the local youth centre. By the time Karena came into my life, she had been through several foster homes, none of them very harmonious. For the ten years we had known each other, I had been one of the few constants in a life otherwise filled with uncertainty. I was about as close to her as anyone had ever been.
Karena had made her way to Melbourne and found accommodation in a boarding house, but it was an awful place, so she asked if she could stay with me for a while. I was more than happy to have her.
But the first night, over dinner, Karena was being her cheeky, bubbly self when, out of the blue, Gregâs mood darkened and he threw a couple of books at her across the dinner table, muttering under his breath. He seemed to have taken an instant, irrational dislike to her for reasons I couldnât fathom. The dislike turned to distrust, and a few days later he told me he was convinced that Karena was looking through his stuff when we werenât at home. He had these paranoid delusions that she was spying on him.
One morning Karena and I went to the supermarket. As we pulled into the driveway at home, Greg came running out to the car and accused Karena of having locked him out of the house. He was really aggressive, right up in her face, shouting abuse.
I intervened, trying to calm the situation. I didnât like the way he was talking to Karena and told him so in no uncertain terms. I went inside to take a bath, whereupon Greg barged into the bathroom and started arguing with me about Karena, smacking the wall in frustration. I told him to get out, but when I emerged from the bathroom minutes later Greg was once again laying into Karena, accusing her of all manner of ridiculous things. I told him he had to leave.
Somehow, I managed to coax him into my car so I could drive him to the railway station. He spent the whole journey smacking the dashboard, repeating over and over, âWhy am I the one who has to leave? Why not her?â To Gregâs way of thinking, I had chosen Karena over him, and he wasnât happy about it. Since I had shared with him the news of my pregnancy, he had started to construct a happy family fantasy â an expectation that, despite all of his odd behaviour and our clearly dysfunctional relationship, we were somehow going to be the perfect family unit.
The following day he came back to collect his things. I was at work, but Karena was at home. She stayed in her bedroom, soas not to cross paths with Greg. When I returned that night, she told me how he had come into the house and cut up the slippers I had given him as a present. Then he had gone out into the garden, taken an axe and smashed up the garden bench we had restored together. It was now just a pile of tinder, a terrifying symbol of his strength and anger.
Karena stayed with me for a couple more weeks, until she had to go into hospital. Unbeknown to me, she had become addicted to prescription medicines. I only realised after she had left that every aspirin in my house had disappeared.
Some weeks later, Karena left hospital and found a small house in Belgrave. She agreed to go to Narcotics Anonymous, and I offered to accompany her. She was determined to turn her life around â or at least thatâs how it appeared from the outside.
Christmas came around and I invited Karena to join me and my cousin, who was visiting from the UK, for Christmas lunch. But as midday came and went with no sign of her, I began to worry. She had been unreliable, and so I assumed sheâd simply decided at the last minute that she couldnât be bothered and hadnât thought to call. She
Karena had made her way to Melbourne and found accommodation in a boarding house, but it was an awful place, so she asked if she could stay with me for a while. I was more than happy to have her.
But the first night, over dinner, Karena was being her cheeky, bubbly self when, out of the blue, Gregâs mood darkened and he threw a couple of books at her across the dinner table, muttering under his breath. He seemed to have taken an instant, irrational dislike to her for reasons I couldnât fathom. The dislike turned to distrust, and a few days later he told me he was convinced that Karena was looking through his stuff when we werenât at home. He had these paranoid delusions that she was spying on him.
One morning Karena and I went to the supermarket. As we pulled into the driveway at home, Greg came running out to the car and accused Karena of having locked him out of the house. He was really aggressive, right up in her face, shouting abuse.
I intervened, trying to calm the situation. I didnât like the way he was talking to Karena and told him so in no uncertain terms. I went inside to take a bath, whereupon Greg barged into the bathroom and started arguing with me about Karena, smacking the wall in frustration. I told him to get out, but when I emerged from the bathroom minutes later Greg was once again laying into Karena, accusing her of all manner of ridiculous things. I told him he had to leave.
Somehow, I managed to coax him into my car so I could drive him to the railway station. He spent the whole journey smacking the dashboard, repeating over and over, âWhy am I the one who has to leave? Why not her?â To Gregâs way of thinking, I had chosen Karena over him, and he wasnât happy about it. Since I had shared with him the news of my pregnancy, he had started to construct a happy family fantasy â an expectation that, despite all of his odd behaviour and our clearly dysfunctional relationship, we were somehow going to be the perfect family unit.
The following day he came back to collect his things. I was at work, but Karena was at home. She stayed in her bedroom, soas not to cross paths with Greg. When I returned that night, she told me how he had come into the house and cut up the slippers I had given him as a present. Then he had gone out into the garden, taken an axe and smashed up the garden bench we had restored together. It was now just a pile of tinder, a terrifying symbol of his strength and anger.
Karena stayed with me for a couple more weeks, until she had to go into hospital. Unbeknown to me, she had become addicted to prescription medicines. I only realised after she had left that every aspirin in my house had disappeared.
Some weeks later, Karena left hospital and found a small house in Belgrave. She agreed to go to Narcotics Anonymous, and I offered to accompany her. She was determined to turn her life around â or at least thatâs how it appeared from the outside.
Christmas came around and I invited Karena to join me and my cousin, who was visiting from the UK, for Christmas lunch. But as midday came and went with no sign of her, I began to worry. She had been unreliable, and so I assumed sheâd simply decided at the last minute that she couldnât be bothered and hadnât thought to call. She
Similar Books
