(Yay, Welcome to the second half of my biography. I’m going to aptly call this ‘My Teenage years’ XD because that’s what they are.)

My father had been working in the RAF for 23 years in May of 2000. We held a party for him on the RAF camp, and a few people came. We did karaoke and stuff, it was kinda fun. Well, the reason I mention this? Yeah, Dad needed a new job. So after a few uninteresting job interviews, he goes to this one in some city I forget where we were, and has this three hour chat with a guy named Carl. I’m about 14 at this point and highly strung. Thankfully, I’m armed with my game boy and mum keeps topping me up with coke. When he’s finished, he says he has the job, and he has to go to a ‘development course’ at the weekend. For years Dad hardly ever left me on my own with my mum. I look back on his interview and wonder. What If I’d kicked up a ruckus, would Dad still have gotten the job?

Anyway, the next three months are pretty much hell. Dad buys a new computer, with the Internet, he goes away a lot, and doesn’t get paid during the first three months of his job. So we’re on a tight budget. Instead of coming home and watching TV. I come home and go online. At first I end up getting myself addicted to neopets. I have a Yahoo account (For E-mail) and then I start getting into Yahoo games. It’s here, I make what I think is probably the biggest mistake of my entire life. I introduce my mother to Yahoo games. She makes a screen name. I forget what it was now. For a while, she just plays literati, then Dad joins in, and they play together. Everything’s beginning to get better. Mum and Dad are getting along, we have money (To an extent) School is... okay. As I remember Dad got his new job at the end of year nine, and my grades begin to slip from there. I spend more time online, and Mum ends up doing so too. Although, I was getting involved in writing. It was here I began writing my first ‘book’.

Dad gets more involved in his job, things spiral. My GCSE’s start coming up, and all the time the spiral is falling. I’m falling, everything’s falling. I’ll look back on things I didn’t realise until now. Mum is on the computer, I have a rabbit called Olly, I’m with him in the house and I go and take him to the computer room, slide down the wall and start talking to my mum, who’s on Yahoo. Immediately, the screen is dropped. After a few minutes, I notice the flashing of a PM box at the bottom of the screen. I’m still talking to her, I ask what she’s doing and suddenly everything flares up. Mum storms over, and grabs me by my shirt, chucking me out of the room screaming something about me annoying her, the rabbit should be in his cage, I should be doing my homework. So, I’m crying. I’m upset, Duh. So, I bimble off downstairs.

On many occasions after this, both my Dad and me experience similar situations. Mum goes online ALL the time. Neither of us sees cooked food, and once, I remember vividly dad and me took her up a cup of tea and a biscuit, and she yells at the both of us. Really yells. Deciding she’s just in a mood, we retreat and watch a movie. Another example. Any time Dad used to rent a movie, we’d start watching it and then half way through she’d say she was bored and go upstairs online. The pattern fails to change. Then in May of 2001 Mum is going away to Paris for a week. My dad and I see nothing wrong in this. Mum is a very independent woman, she wants to go and spend time seeing the sights and stuff. So, off she goes. Over my birthday. I’m away on Scout Camp. It’s rather ironic, because on my birthday I manage to pull the ligament in leg and end up in plaster for four weeks. Hmn.

I skip to the end of June 2001. It’s the 30th, and it’s a Saturday. Mum’s invited some friends over for a barbeque; we’re having fun for once. I’m smiling, we’re all happy. Mum’s drunk. Dad drives Mum’s friend’s home, and asks me to clean up. Mum goes straight to bed. I finish tidying up as best I can for someone so tired and then go to bed. The next thing I know, it’s 8am on Sunday morning, and my Dad is stood at the door. His eyes are bloodshot. I’ve never seen him cry before.

What happened is as follows. Dad got home at about 2am and we’re all asleep. However, he can’t find the keys for the back door, so thinking logically (As my Father always tends to do) he goes to get the keys out of my mum’s bag. Stumbling upon a wadge of paper. He removes it, wondering what on earth it is and opens them up. There, staring up at him are several printed sheets of e-mails, IM conversations and a photo of a man named Nathan with whom she’s been having an affair with for the past 6 months. They all explain the reasons for her odd behaviour, and of what was going on. The next thing –I- know is I’m on my bed, sobbing in my Father’s arms. Staring at my mother who had invaded my bed and was attempting to hug me. Dad packs mum’s bags, and she goes to stay at her friend’s house for like... a Week.

I remember the Monday after. I was in Geography. I hadn’t been able to concentrate all day, as can be expected. Dad was at home; his boss had let him have some time off to sort his head out. I’m sat in my lesson, staring at my book and scribbling. I don’t know what it was anymore. All of a sudden, sadness overcomes me and I just get up and leave the room, making my way to the medical room. I hear later, funnily enough, that my friend and my teacher had a little conversation.

Mr Little: “Does Gemma have Issues?”

Flick: “Uh, No I didn’t know she was into Korn”

Anyway, the weeks follow a bit like that. I become more subdued, Mum and Dad argue, the guy who was sorting out the bathroom is told that my mum is ill, and I get upset about it. Then they try again. For the next 3 months my life is hell. I wake up at 2am to hear them arguing, I don’t want to know about what’s happening because I really don’t care, and I try my damned hardest to get on with it. I begin to hate my mum with a passion. Finally, she leaves and moves into a poxy little flat on her own. She has no boyfriend anymore, Dad made her give him up when they tried again.

I try and pick myself up, trying my hardest to pick my dad up at the same time. I’m strong for him, he cries with me; I remember one night just crying with him. Things get better very slowly. Dad picks himself up quickly, and returns to his job. I start the new school year in year 11 and try my damned hardest, but the will is gone. Dad is working all the hours god sends, and I am left alone on the computer. I’ve been ‘online’ for about a year by now. In the chat rooms, making Internet friends. The year goes by so slowly, Dad dates someone. A girl I never meet. He’s been getting involved in dating services and things. My resentment for my mum begins to build during the year. My exams come up, and I miss a few, mostly due to the fact that I just can’t be bothered anymore. It’s about this time that my Dad meets a woman who will probably haunt me for the rest of my life.

Maria Brown. Her real name is Marie, but because that’s just not posh enough her name is Maria (There aren’t any songs about people called Marie). She has two sons, a thirteen-year-old called Mikey, and a 15 year old called Charlie. Charlie smokes pot, he’s bad, and he fails at school. End. Anyway, the first day I go over to meet this woman, her sons are there. Charlie, myself and a friend of his are in the TV room watching something, and I’m messing about, I grab this coke bottle he has and he chases me. Next thing I know, he’s punched me as hard as he can on the arm. I’m stunned. I’ve never been hit by anyone before, never mind my Dad’s girlfriend’s Son. I hide myself away in her toilet and cry silently to myself for about half an hour, waiting and waiting until we get to leave. I’m plaguing Dad and Maria’s space because I’m in the living room. Things just get worse.

It’s this August that everything goes wrong for me in a good way. It’s the year I meet Joniegami, Alex, Eijei and Aaron. To name a few people. It’s also the year I starve myself to the point where I end up taking a week off school. It’s the month I begin to see mum less and less. It’s the month I spend with my new next-door neighbour Samantha and her brother, Matthew. Sam’s mum had cancer the year before, but recovered well. We hang out all the time. Christmas rolls around. I go to see my mum. I can’t remember what exactly happened, but as I walked down the stairs to see my dad, Mum makes a sarcy comment. I lash out, and announce that ‘I could hit you’ She chases me out to the car and for thirty minute I sit crying whilst mum and dad argue about why I said what I did. It turns into a full flown argument about who picked who and why. I’ve forgotten in by the morning, but the memory of the pain remains. Christmas is a nightmare. I have to go to Maria’s house. I have to stay over Christmas Eve. I have to share present opening with HER and her Brat-Kids. I have to have a Christmas meal with Family I don’t know and have never seen before.

They’re all in this one room. There’s a bottle of archer’s that Maria’s offering me a mixer with. She was an alcoholic. I walk into the room with all the people and freeze up. Tears well up in my eyes and I end up going to hug my Dad. I want out, I don’t like it. I would much rather go home and just talk to my e-friends who care more about me than Maria Brown ever could. More than, it seemed, my Father could. For the months up to Christmas, he’d been spending every minute he wasn’t working at Maria’s. There was one time where they went away for a week, and got back on the Friday. He spent all of the weekend after that at her house. Never, in my life had I felt more hurt, more alone. My Father. MY Dad. In HER company and not mine. Not caring for the fact I wasn’t eating, not caring for the fact that I hated his girlfriend. The talk of marriage, the talk of Charlie becoming my brother. The huge hate I felt for anything that moved. School was no better. I’d joined Sixth Form, and spent more time explaining why I hadn’t done my homework than in class. I did nothing. I learnt nothing. I had fun though. I spent more time writing about my emotions than I ever had done before.

2003 rolled around pretty soon. In April, I went on holiday with Dad, Maria her sons me and a friend of ours each. I hated it, but had fun. I remember after the trip, Dad took us to the shops and started moaning at me. Why wasn’t I talking to Maria? Why did I ignore her? Why couldn’t I give her a straight answer? I realise NOW, that it was because I was depressed. Never in my life had I been subdued like that. My Dad was usually the first person to parade me before his friends. Now it was Maria who took centre stage. She was all he saw. Or so it seemed. Thankfully, the ‘holiday’ was the last I had seen of Maria Brown. I was in a huff with my dad for almost a whole week. On Tuesday, I’m not sure what Date, but my dad came home very very late. It was about 3am by the time he rolled in; I had been up, waiting for him. Wondering if Maria Brown was going to haunt me even longer. It turned out; he had someone new on the go. Much to my disgust at how soon he’d managed to get over Maria. Luckily for me. Caren is nice.

By this time, I’ve lost 3 stone. I’m more confident. I’m still doing rubbish at school, and I’m still addicted to the Internet. I’ve begun dating a guy in Australia. Soon he becomes everything to me. In July, my mum took me on holiday. I don’t blame her for getting annoyed with me. I feel so lonely; unable to speak to the only person I care for at that moment in time. Although I took an immediate shine to Dad’s new girlfriend, I never wanted anything more than to sit in front of the computer from the minute I got home from school to the minute dad entered the house. Whether that was 11 or 2 at night, it didn’t matter. I was sneaking time off school to be online. Looking back I’m not sure what I did exactly. Play games, talk to people. Never anything as constructed as I wish I had been. Although, a lot of time was spent Role-playing. It became my obsession, my life. A character I grew to love, and still do. Outside of the Internet, things weren’t good. I began turning down my neighbours invites to go out, the house became a play area. With Dad never home, all the other kids knew that they could have a party or perhaps have tea. One time dad told my next-door neighbours off for feeding me too much. Which made us all laugh. The feeding didn’t stop though.

The respect I once had for my Dad had subsided. It was gone though. He’d still spoil me rotten, buy me most of what I wanted. Get me what I wanted from the food shopping, take me out for tea. Only give me a ‘telling off’ when I did something wrong. He gave me pocket money and then some. He never pressed me to get my homework done. Although there are so many times I was scolded for being online at 1am.

I remember the first time I met my ‘brother’ Teddy. He had a small Maisy suitcase with some toys and books in. We were looking for plants to make the garden pretty. We’d been to the garden centre and bought some plants, compost and some ice cream. Teds was just turned 4 at the time. It was sweet. I read Teddy a story afterwards, and he was really quite cute. Me moulded straight away, just like I did with Caren. Dad said that we spoke more in the night I first met her then me and Maria ever did.

Even though Caren seems to be the best thing that’s ever happened to me, My life is still pretty messed up. My best friend’s mum is seriously ill, and school isn’t getting any better. I’m slacking and I know it. I don’t care, what’s to care about? I have the Internet and I have my own world of stability. Life is getting me down though. Dad and I have arguments. Lots of them. Every now and then, I get these immense needs to hurt myself. I’m walking in the rain a lot; I’m walking outside at three in the morning. I’m wanting to throw myself in the river. Deciding that something needs to be done, I go to the doctors. After explaining my life in short, he puts me on Fluoxetine. He says they’ll take about a month to kick in. So there I am, on Anti-Depressants. Whoop De Do Dah.

A year after they had been together, they decided to move in together. This was such a great thing for me. Finally I would be able to live someplace I could have a family. Someone would be there to talk to, Teddy would be staying over, and I’d see Dad more. It would have been great, right? Maybe not.

We move in, sometime in May. It’s Sunday when we move everything in. Not all my stuff is sorted out properly yet, but most of my stuff is in my room. I have homework to do. I sorta get cracking on that. First culture shock. Someone is trying to get me to do my homework. Okay okay, I moan I whine, but I do some of it, then get bored and play on Theme Hospital. Caren comes in and tells me I should be getting on with my homework. O.o I don’t want to do it. I say whatever and pretend to do it. Dad gets home, ‘do your homework’ Fine Fine, Whatever Whatever.

Anyway, Monday rolls around. My homework isn’t complete but that’s not the least of my worries, I get a phone call from my best friend. I find out that her mum is gonna die. Okay, So homework is out the window. I’m not feeling very well either, stupid time of the month. I dunno, everything at that point is just completely pointless.

I’m not sure when it was, possibly a Tuesday or a Thursday. I’m in town. I have a counselling appointment at quarter to twelve or something, and I’m in HMV. I’m looking around, there’s a Blink 182 CD without the security tag on it. So, I’m dawdling. Dawdling. Ah, CD into pocket. OH MY GOD. I didn’t just do that. Dawdle some more yeah? Okay cool. CDs in my pocket. I’m attracting attention looking shifty okay okay. JUST GO. I’m moving out the shop now. I’ve just gone past the security sensors. Whoa. I just… Oh fudge, there’s a guy staring at me weird. Heck, I have a Counselling appointment. Need to go. Crap.

“Hi, I’m from HMV I believe you have something belonging to us?” Oh My God. Oh my god oh my god. I’m going to cry what in the blue hell have I just done? Ohmygod. So, this guy walks ahead of me to HMV. He’s telling me about how there are video cameras everywhere. There were THREE of them waiting for me. Three. So, he takes me up to this tiny room, and there’s a still frame shot of me, with my hand and the CD entering my pocket. Goodness gracious me, I look fat. OH my God I stole stuff. They’re calling the police. Oh My God. They ask me questions, and I can’t remember a thing. All I can think about is that I’ve stolen something, I’m a criminal, I have a Counselling appointment in five minutes, and I have school in two hours. So, The police come, they say all that stuff that you’re only supposed to hear on TV. They ask me if I could afford the CD, they ask me where I’m supposed to be. They ask me… They ask me ‘Do I need to handcuff you’ I’m sobbing. Sobbing uncontrollably. They take me down to this police car they’ve parked outside. The policewoman’s hand is gently but firmly grasped around my left arm, and the policeman’s hand is gripping my upper arm HARD. It hurts too. I’m not going to run, I’m not a criminal. I don’t steal; I’ve never stolen anything in my life. Unless you count that rubber from school. That was just a rubber, right?

So I’m dreading my life. I’m only 17; they’re going to call my Dad. OH MY GOD. My Dad. They won’t tell him, I’m begging with my brain for reasons why they won’t tell my dad. There’s only a month to my 18th birthday. I’ll be okay, I’ll be fine. I get to police station, after the humiliation of being dragged through the public towards this police car. I can’t look up at all. My head’s down. We get there, and there’s this other man there too. He’s got handcuffs on. I feel my wrists just to check there’s nothing on them. No No. Nothing. They sit me down on the bench; next to me is a policeman, who has this guy next to him. There’s a funny smell, and I figure it’s this other guy. He’s swearing in a loud voice, I can’t remember what I figured out he was in for. It was something bad though. The nice policewoman is smiling at me now. All I can do is talk in a quiet voice. They’ve asked me quite a few questions by now. Yes I live in Branston, I’m 17, yes. No... No I’ve never done anything like this before. Oh my God I’m so sorry. I’m really sorry I didn’t mean to. She seems pretty forgiving, as if she understands. He on the other hand. He makes me feel like I’ve just killed my brother.

They tell me that I’m going to have to go into a cell for a short amount of time. I have tears still dripping down my cheeks one by one, and my eyes must be very red. I stalk into this other room. The counter comes up to my collarbone, and the guy behind it is looking pretty stern. He asks me some more questions. How much money have you got? What have you got on you? Can you take your shoes off please? My SHOES? My... What am I going to do? Strangle myself with my shoelaces? They take my hair bobbles off me too. I’m placed in this cell, with only my clothes on. There’s a hard wooden bench, and four huge magnolia walls staring at me. There’s a poster with the word ‘Addaction’ in big red letters. It’s talking about drug abuse. What am I doing here?

I sit. Thinking about what I’ve done and trying to come to terms with it. They’re not going to inform my Dad, but they recommend I tell someone about what I’ve done. I’m sat thinking. Why? Suddenly I realise. Perhaps this was a cry for attention? I don’t really want that sort of attention after all. I cross my legs on the hard wooden bench and tap at it for a while. If I really wanted to hurt myself I’d throw myself at the wall, not waste time trying to self-harm by shoelace. Maybe I was going to cut my wrists with the metal bit of my hair bobbles. A man opens the little hatch thingy on the door, and asks if I want a drink. I decline. Making drinks for criminals? Maybe they realise I’m not that bad?

After about 20 minutes of sitting thinking, another man comes to the door. He’s a lot younger than the others, and smiles as he asks me to come this way. He’s my interviewer. I’m not sure of his name; I will never remember his face either. He puts a tape on, and starts interviewing me. He asks me a whole stream of questions. Am I guilty of stealing? Well... Yes I am. We start talking more about why I did what I did, and the tears come again. In the end I tell him about my Dad’s job. This is turning into a bit of a counselling session. I already explained that’s where I was on my way to. He starts filling out this sheet, and asks me my Dad’s name. I tell him, and he looks up at me funny. Oh my God No. He knows my Dad? UI stare blankly and he asks me what my Dad’s occupation is.

I answer ‘Mortgage Advisor’ and he smiles. I can’t remember exactly what he said but it was something along the lines of “I’ve met your Dad. I don’t think his company was very caring to tell you the truth.” Over the past few weeks my respect for my Dad and anything to do with him has been faltering. Beyond faltering, dying. So, I agree. The feeling of annoyance building up. When the interview finishes, he makes me sign this piece of paper, and then takes me to have my photograph taken and fingerprints. I can’t believe there’s a mug shot of me. A thought enters my mind. I have a vivid image. I’m much older, and I’m a famous author, and there I am, 17 years old. This photo. This minute in time is going to haunt me for the rest of my life, isn’t it?

I go back into the reception part of the office. The lady gives me back all my things. She says I’m free to go on bail, but I will have to come back to hear what’s going to happen to me. That’s when I decide to go to school. I can’t remember what lesson I had, but I think I went anyway. Before going home.

The first thing Caren asks me when I walk through the door was how my counselling appointment went. I act like a teenager, shrug and say ‘Fine.’ She looks at me funny, and I just go off upstairs to my room. I don’t want anything to eat thank you, I just want to melt away into a pile of nothingness. Everything from then goes from bad to worse.

Dad gets home later and comes upstairs, questioning me about my Counselling appointment. I tell him it was fine, everything was fine and he leaves me alone. I write in my diary about what’s happened. I tell me then-boyfriend Kane what’s happened. I’ll wish forever after that I had just come up with a reason why I didn’t go to my Counselling appointment, because that’s the only reason my Dad wanted to investigate.

It turns out; my Counselling appointment had been cancelled that day. So, when I had come home saying that it had gone fine, suspicion had risen in Caren’s mind. On a mission, my dad must have gone into my room and had a look through my personal belongings because he had read my diary. Story goes it ‘Fell’ open when Caren was cleaning. Now let me explain something. My Diary is a book that has a cardboard covering around it. Now, Somehow, this book fell off the windowsill, onto my bed, opened itself out of the cardboard cover and magically onto the page I’d written about the incident on. A huge argument ensued; Dad accused me of making people cry, of being disrespectful and many other things. Then he went off to work. Caren was in the bath, and ignored me completely even after I called her four times. I only wanted to ask if it was okay for me to go and stay at my friend’s house. I wanted to get away. I needed to get away before I killed myself or did something seriously bad. So, Karen, my old next-door neighbour from the last chapter comes round to pick me up. They’re having McDonalds so I get invited to join. I think. Anyway. I plan the next day to go to my mum’s. My dad said he was going to pick up my old bed from the old house anyway. He’ll give me a lift. So I’m waiting for him and I see my Granddad’s car. I see the trailer, and then I see something that breaks my heart into tiny little pieces. All my things are in the back of the car. Piled in a big bag. This is the first I knew about never coming back to live with Daddy, and it’s all gone. All. Gone. Tears are going to gush out from my eyes, and I’m going to drown myself.

Never have I been in a car ride quite so tense. Dad and Granddad are talking about some sport or other, and I’m sat in the back looking at all my bags. It feels as if they’re going to swallow me whole, I’m trying my hardest not to sob. Thankfully, it’s not far to my mum’s house, but I just race up as fast as I can and slump on her sofa. My dad probably hates me more than anything in the world, and I hate my mum. I can’t believe I’m here. Dad asks me for a hug, and I refuse. I’m not sure whether it’s because I don’t want one, or I want to make him suffer. Perhaps a bit of both. A huge part of me wants to cuddle him, and for him just to take me home. I would do anything for him to take me home and everything to go back to normal.

Life from there seems to get worse and worse. Kane and I split up; I get a new boyfriend who’s a bum. Schoolwork drops. (If that was actually possible) My birthday rolls around, and I get a sick feeling in my stomach. I’ve chosen spending time with my dad over my mum. Even though the thought of spending time with him Caren teddy and Caren’s parents makes my stomach churn. I’m drunk before he even gets to school to collect me. It’s the last day, and everyone’s been feeding me double vodka and coke. I’m giggling and stuff. Dad buys me more alcohol. I can’t believe I’m in such a state. My birthday’s nice. I get quite a lot of presents, including £3,500 Mum and Dad had saved up for me since I was a kid. It’s for university. I’m not going to university though. I’m sick of learning.

Over the Summer Holidays I decide I’m not going back to school, and I spent about £2,500 of my money, my mother hits me at least twice during raging arguments, My boyfriend swears at my mother, and gets himself banned from coming round the house, my best friend’s mother dies, I’m banned from the internet, I’m pretty much a dosser, although emotionally I seem stable. My life isn’t exactly roses. I’m too smart to lead this life though.

Finally October rolls around. I’m trying hard to get a job now. Something my boyfriend had never done, and probably never will do. Ever. I see this administration job, and go for an interview. The next Monday I get the job. So I start at St. Christopher’s school. Suddenly, the world seems like a brighter place. I ditch my loser of a boyfriend, I ditch the friends who think I’m big headed, egotistical, childish little girl and am on track for bigger things. The only thing I still miss is my Dad, but I’m happier now than I’ve ever been. I’m no longer on anti-depressants, and my term of internet-ban is over. I’ve matured a lot over the past few months, and only seem to get better.

I’m telling you these are the end of my teenage years. Although I tend to fly of the handle sometimes, and get a bit silly the worst is over. I’ve gotten through the worst part of my life so far and have come out a stronger, better person. Open mindedness is something I relish in now. I don’t want to be closed anymore. Things could be better, and I promise myself in time they will be. When I’ve saved up enough to get myself a car, and my own flat. When I’ve finished my NVQ2 and get a proper teaching assistants job. Until then I can only keep myself amused.