Hilton! Page #2

---

I've never given my money.

You can see all five fingers here.

And she's a girl, that's clear,

you can see the genitalia here.

Just like I wished for!

If I would meet him on the street,

I would probably run like hell.

Or if I would feel

threatened by him, -

I guess would stop him

by any means necessary.

He has no right to come near me.

As long as he hasn't

learnt to control himself.

What kind of an example

would that set to the child?

A grown-up flipping out all of a sudden

and jumping on another person.

I would rather teach my child

to talk things over or walk away.

He wouldn't let me see the doctor

and just said that the wounds will heal.

This means I have

no proof of the abuse.

I'd like to get him

to a private location.

I'd have a chair waiting for him

in the middle of an empty room.

Someone would

sit him down and gag him.

Just so I could tell him

what I think of him.

He couldn't stand my views

on life, himself or on anything else.

Instead of listening,

he would just yell and flip out, -

whenever I raised

something unpleasant -

we would have needed to discuss.

I'd sit him down

and make him listen, for once -

and not f***ing yell back

every god damn second.

That would be beautiful.

I think about Pinja every day.

Sometimes even dream

about being with her, -

playing outside,

or that she's here with me.

And then I wake up

in the morning and realize that, -

hell, it was just a dream.

It always feels really depressing,

the dreams are so real.

That has to be the hand.

In one picture

she has her finger up her nose.

That's her hand.

- Yes.

We were one of

Helsinki's poorest families.

I was already in kindergarten,

or whatever it was called, -

One day a woman comes up to me.

A woman I don't even know.

She says she's taking me

to visit some place.

That visit lasted eighteen years.

I was told nothing,

no one explained what happened.

Well, here we are in the end.

I remember I was just a kid, playing

with a beach ball with my sister.

My biological dad comes in,

drunk out of his mind.

"Rah rah rah,

where the f*** is my booze!"

This was continuous,

just like the beatings.

It all ended one night, when

we were just about to turn seven.

I had always been sleeping

with a puukko hunting knife.

I can tell you

the f***ing truth right now.

I've always told them

I don't remember anything.

That I don't remember anything

of the time before I turned six...

A child f***ing remembers.

So that was it then.

The police and the child welfare

officials came in.

Finally my mom's sister

got us the f*** out of there.

That was one happy f***ing moment.

Don't feel like doing anything.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes