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And so it went on…

the attacks that is. Eddie’s attacks…

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Eddie would greet Travis like a lost brother of old each time he met him – “Travis what are you doing here!  Oh it’s so good to see you” – and Travis, patient and gentle as ever would slowly explain that we’d were staying in his house – that we were his guests.

Then he’d introduce me and I’d get that look.  That long slow look.  As he tried to imprint my face into his damaged memory.

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And then he’d attack me the next time he saw me.  And I… patient as ever… would  curl into a protective ball into the ground and weather the stomps and butts and blows until Travis arrived to go through the whole process again.

And again.

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And again.

So I took to leaving these signs around the house – pinned to the walls – mirrors – above his bed – on the floor in front of the toilet – inside cupboards – everywhere and anywhere…

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And they’d work – for a while they’d work.

If he read a sign and then saw me I’d be fine and Travis didn’t have to be near.

But then if I was in another room or dare I even say it I went out and then woe-betide me came back into the house… knocking my boots and taking my coat off… shacking the snow from my hair… or actually it was rain by then wasn’t it… anyway… if I did those things.

Well I’d be attacked.

Which after a while began to… well how can I put it… it began to get me down.

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