My name is Beckie Louise Walker. I am the youngest of three of us, there is my older brother Aaron Walker who I am currently struggling to deal with and then there is my twin sister who is eleven minutes older than me. She never lets me forget her. The three of us were born to Fiona and Paul Walker. My whole life has been hard. I thought I would have been happy when I was a child and, looking at me now, no one would assume I lived a difficult life. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why violent video games should not be banned”? Get an original essay To begin with, when I was four years old, I was hurt by my own father and I never knew what was happening at the time, I mean, me too young. I was separated from my brother who lived with my father (well, if you could call him that). My sister and I were lucky enough to live with our mother, but it wasn't any better. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love my mom but she's been going through a tough time. So I don't blame her for anything she did. I know she still loved me. After a while, my mother regained custody of my brother and the four of us lived together. It has always been more difficult for me because I only attended one educational institution where I completed the entire school. When I was five we moved from Scarborough to Stockton. We were starting a new life. I always remembered how afraid I was to start something new. But shortly after we moved, my life took a turn for the worse. One day, while I was at school, I thought everything was okay. I had just had a great day at school and had enjoyed my day with my friends until it was time to go home. As soon as it was home time, my mother never came to pick me up. Instead, he was a social worker. At this point I didn't know what was happening. I always thought they would take us back to our mother's house, but I remember spending over an hour at school while they finished sorting things out. That night we were taken to host families. Remembering when I was five years old, I still didn't know what was happening but that night changed my life. I always thought we would always be with our mother. But the social worker said she was not fit to take care of us. So after we left school, they took us to our new house. But when we arrived, we discovered that my sister and I were staying with a host family and that they were separating us from our brother again. He was always my rock when I was younger, he looked after both of us but we were told we would see each other again at school and that was that. But I always found it more difficult for us. I mean, we had just been taken away from our mother, and then he was taken away from us. We didn't like the caregiver my sister and I were with. She had another foster child with her and when she was angry she would throw things at me and my sister and that's when we realized we were living in hell. I hated every minute of it. I remember waking up the next day and thinking that it was all just a bad dream and that my mother would come through the bedroom door to wake me up, but just my luck. This was not the case. I remember having to take a taxi to school the next morning. Apparently, this was how we now had to get to and from school every day. When we got to school, I remember my friends asking me why my mom didn't drop me off. I hadused to always walk with them to school and return with our mother. So I was afraid to tell them what was happening. Until someone I knew was going to use it against me, they found out. He would make fun of me and tell me that my mother didn't love me anymore and that more than once I had been bullied throughout school. I couldn't see my brother because he was elsewhere in the school and now that I think about it, I think it was the host families' idea to separate the three of us. The school never let us see him and he never got to see us. It was a few weeks after that, another woman came to pick the three of us up and said she was taking us to see our mother for some contact. Then we had to have supervised contact with our mother. I hated that we were only allowed to see her for an hour every two weeks after school. I remember the first time it happened and I have to admit I cried when she left us. My sister and I were crying so much that when we returned to the host family we were staying at, they sent us to our room without food. He said we had no right to cry over our own mother's departure. This would happen every two weeks, then it would start happening on a Thursday. My sister and brothers' two foster families all got together and then asked social services if we could see our brother. So they scheduled every Thursday after school that our brother's host families would pick me and my sister up from school and then we would go to there for tea. When we got there, the first time I was quiet, my brother tried to push me out of my shell and it took a few weeks before I spoke to the caregivers. I appreciated the contact with him. This always made me look forward to it. Sure, we still saw our mother during supervised visits every Wednesday, but being with my brother always made me happier. I always thought we wouldn't get to see him like this, it only happened because he left the school we were in for the first time. I remember feeling that he seemed happier without me or my sister there. But then again, I know he still misses us. We were separated for two years, then we were told we were allowed to live with him again. At that moment, I was so happy about it. I know I couldn't wait to go live with him. The day came and we moved into the house he was in and my sister and I had to share a room but neither of us cared. We were both grateful to finally be able to spend time with our brother. During the time we lived with them, I felt happier and happier with each passing day. But it's been three weeks since everything started to deteriorate. Our brother started getting worse and worse and the screaming started with the caregivers locking him up and keeping him in his room. I don't even know why they did that at that time, I'll still be young to understand all that. After a few more weeks of contact with our mother, they then changed it so that we could only see her on a Saturday. At the time, I hated the idea that we wouldn't see her every Wednesday anymore. But of course, even on Wednesdays we were only allowed to see her from three o'clock to five o'clock, and then on Saturdays from noon to four o'clock. Before, I always hated waiting just to see my mother. Being in school wasn't any easier because I was often bullied and because I felt like I would never be able tolive up to certain expectations. I remember one day on holiday when I went to Haggerston Castle for the first time, where my brother was. I'm not allowed to go there. Only because he was misbehaving, although I can tell you that wasn't the case. I never blamed him for what he had done, I always blamed the adopted brothers who were there. They were the sons of the adults who took care of us and who always started fights and sometimes I think they did it on purpose because they knew that if they made him angry, it would be my brother who would get scolded. for speaking out of turn or saying what he thought. Another moment I remembered was the nights I spent on the phone with my mother and that started well, I loved talking to her and when she called. I was able to talk to her about school, how I was doing, and how much I missed her. Which was a lot. Another moment I remember was the day of contact when my mother brought my stepfather with her. I really enjoyed that day, but later found out that the caregivers we lived with kept coming out of the house to watch our mother accompany us on the road. Why they did this, I still don't know to this day. I swear they thought we were going to say something bad about them to our mother or tell our mother that we wanted to move back in with her because every night when we came back we were always told the same thing about the fact that we will never return to our mother and that she never loved us because she was going through a difficult time. I remember being afraid of my stepfather the first time I met him. I think it might have to do with the scar on his face and that he jokingly growled at me when I first met him. I remember my sister and brother were arguing over who should sit next to him on the bus and all I did was stay quiet and sit next to my mom. I still remember the chills I had that day when I met him. After a few months of all this and after my brother was reported, the caregivers agreed that they couldn't take care of her, so they sent her to another family every month. so they could just hang out with my sister and I and when we asked them why they kept sending him away their response was that they couldn't handle it even though their kids were just as bad. I guess it's easier to take away from your own children someone you never found to be a member of your family. Every time he was sent away, they took my sister and me away, and well, it wasn't the same. I always thought that if you leave, you'll take the whole family. At first, every month we would go on coach trips and things like that. Then they left and left me, my sister and my brother, well we were all separated again into different foster families. My brother went to the family that took care of him every month and me and my sister to another family. We were supposed to start high school for the first time and our caregivers were absent after telling us they would be there for it. I still remember my first day and how scared I was at the beginning. It didn't help that the first day we went we were late because our caregiver hadn't told the taxi driver where we were going to be. So we ended up at the school after lunch and hey, we were still ready to go. The caregivers we were staying with at the time kept calling our social worker and theirs and eventually got through.