This all started around 2002. Little things would happen around the house that we didn't really think much of or pay much attention to. You know, such as light bulbs running out as soon as they'd been replaced even though the electrics were fine, again, the odd feelings of someone watching you.
At one point, my sister and I were cleaning and a candlestick flew off the top of a bookcase and almost hit her. The candlestick was pushed right to the back of the bookcase, and it's not as if the bookcase was on a wobbly floorboard or anything.
The atmosphere in the London house wasn't nice at all. Neither my Mum, my sister nor I liked to be left alone there, at this stage, I'm not too sure of my Dad's feelings about the place. He is a very devout catholic.
For a spell, I wasn't getting along with my Dad very well, being extremely disrespectful towards his religious beliefs and almost trying to provoke him into arguments about it all the time. I'm not sure why I suddenly felt it was ok to speak to him like this. I hadn't been brought up that way. In fact, although my parents have brought both me and my sister up in a catholic environment, we've still been encouraged to follow our own paths and make our own choices.
Anyway, all this bickering came to a climax one afternoon. We had had another argument and I had stomped up to my room, eventually my Mum came to see I was ok and ask me to try and stop these constant, unprovoked fights. My Dad soon followed behind her, and I genuinely don't know why, I just started to scream at him, calling him allsorts of hideous names, and saying how much I hated him. He just stared at me, and told my sister to keep away. I carried on this barrage of abuse, and he said he'd be going downstairs and didn't want to be around me, so I jumped up to follow him and shoved him, and started laughing. I genuinely don't remember much else after this; the rest is what my sister has told me since.
She said my voice changed throughout this, that you could tell it was me, but I almost sounded like I had a sore throat, and each time I laughed, it sounded pretty much like I was hysterical. She tells me I went downstairs, and at first was just sat on the sofa, still laughing. Then my Dad was basically talking to me, but... Not to me. He asked me to recite the Lord's Prayer. I would keep getting as far as, 'Our Father...' and then just go into hysterics again. Apparently through this, I was just rocking back and forth. He then said something along the lines of, 'You can't do it, and you're scared.' And then I ran off down the next flight of stairs. (This was a town house, so set on 3 floors). He followed me down the stairs and I kept trying to run from him. And eventually, he backed me into a corner and basically blessed me. And apparently that's that, I calmed down.
I genuinely have no idea what happened to me that afternoon, I am just certain that I said things I would never even consider saying to either of my parents and that behaviour was not characteristic of me at all.
Nothing spectacular happened for a while after that, I'll tell the rest in another story, as I appreciate, these are pretty long winded!
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