When I was about nine my mum had cancer. I had to stay with various relatives while she was in hospital and I hated. I was staying with my uncle and aunt when we got a call that she would have to stay in hospital longer than expected and so I would be at their house for about another two weeks. This was bad news, not only because her chemotherapy didn't seem to be worked but because my uncle was a bit of a secret paedophile and had just started perving on me. Later, I went outside and sat in the front garden picking the petals of from a bunch of daisies when this old woman comes by. She was a neighbour and she was horrible. She told me I shouldn't scrunch my face up like that (I was sulking) otherwise the wind might change and I'd be ugly forever. I was really angry so I threw the petals at her and ran into the back garden. One of the old lady's cats was there. I felt like it was smirking at me. I threw a rock at it and pushed the bird bath on top of it. Then I picked up the swingball post and starting beating the crap out of it. It was sort of pinned by the bird bath and I was enjoying the fact that it was so helpless because usually the cat would jump into the garden and try to catch the birds and run off if you came near. Anyway, after my little rage I realised it was pretty bloody. It was dark brown and wet and sticky and I remember it looked like a cat covered in treacle. Anyway, I went into the house and found a cardboard box and I hid the cat in the box in the bushes at the end of the garden. I put bricks on the box so that the cat didn't escape. I think it was already dead by that point, but I'm not sure. The following night my aunt went to her WI meeting and my uncle came to join me in the bath. He said he knew my secret and what I'd done to the cat and he wouldn't tell anyone if I didn't say anything about our little secret either. He said he had buried the cat for me, and that I should never talk about it again. Anyway, it later turned out that it didn't belong to the old lady neighbour either, but some kids across the road, so I feel kinda bad about that. And I guess I'm breaking two promises in one go. Because even though I'm confessing to killing a cat, I'm also telling the world about his sins too. That was the first night we had anal sex. I say this like there was a choice but I guess there never really was. But it always felt like a relationship to me, so I've always carried the guilt of it with me. I think I'm gay too, but I don't think that makes what happened okay. You shouldn't take advantage of a child ever, no matter what their future sexuality may be. And you should never kill a cat either, even though I still think I was pretty justified. And you should never manipulate someone by blackmailing them. I never told my family about what happened with him because my mum was ill and I felt like I would only make things worse. And the only reason I haven't told them since is because I can't see the point. I'm talking about the abuse now, not the cat. This is a pretty shit confession, but there you go.