I started wetting the bed all the time and have nightmares and strange dreams about running away and being chased by men in black coats and big black hats and I was scared that they would get me if I went to toilet in the middle of the night. I saw this man with a Black Top hat, Black Cape and Black trousers sitting at the end of my bed, he was watching me and because I had been a Naughty little girl. Mum shouted at me more and more, I wet the bed more and more and became quiet and more withdrawn. I started wetting myself in school because I was too scared to go and ask to go to toilet and was scared that the teacher would know that I am a naughty little girl. I would be so busy trying to pinch my legs together that I lost the sensation that told me when I needed to go to the toilet straight away . I started waking up in the middle of the night and wanting to go into my parents bed. Mum said no, because I would get them wet and also that was my youngest brothers place, there was no space for me I was just a little girl wanting to be loved and protected and I cried at the bottom of their bed and sometimes I would almost say :He did shameful and bad things to me and I cant sleep as I do not want to think about it anymore, but I did not , instead I cried softer and softer so no one can hear me. Inside I was screaming I am scared, please , please help me.(I feel sad writing this, but I am not bursting into tears like I used to).When we did not listen or we were being naughty, dad used to beat us with a belt, an electric cord/cable and sometimes his bare hands which were very big. These beatings would last anything from five to ten minutes, I started holding in the tears and did not cry any more as I did not want him to see how much I was hurting inside . It was very difficult to get started on this chapter. Dad passed away on May 20th 2009. We never had much of a father daughter relationship. I have also become a born- again Christian and have had lots of personal battles within myself about forgiving and letting go. That year ( 2010) I was forced to look at these issues head- on I made new friends in this school and they soon found out that I wet myself. My friends covered for me when I was in a teachers class that I did not feel safe enough to go and ask If I could leave the room or made me feel nervous in any way. To the frustration of the teachers I cried easily for silly little things- if I got the wrong page of maths or got the words spelt wrong or any minor mistake a normal child would brush off, I would react so strangely I think they thought I was a bit I was sick one day, I think I had pickled fish in a tin and I was coming down with a virus or something to that effect. I cleaned up my sick and sat back down on the carpet, I had no thoughts of going home at all. The teacher always used that story afterward to the rest of the class to show them that it was okay to stay in school after a little accident sometimes and I guess I felt special that she remembered that and I sure as hell did not receive any recognition from my parents so anything from another adult was great. I did not know any better either as in our family no big fuss was made over you if you were sick. You would get your medicine and that was it , no big deal. No crying, no fuss, just get on with it and get over it. The rest of Primary School was fairly happy, I had my wee ( wee means small in the Scottish language) gang of friends and if I did not have anybody to play with, I had my brothers and my sister was around too. The wetting episodes carried on all the way through to all of primary school and I was quite an anxious child.