by A Brave 14 Year Old
My dad left my mom and me just before I turned one. My mom raised me alone until I was three. She dated my soon to be stepfather. We lived in a two bedroom townhouse. Before I knew it, we moved into a three-bedroom duplex, and my mom was five months with my brother. Before she had my brother, she married.
My stepfather started his hate of me right after he married my mom by throwing things at my head. After a year of marriage, my mom had my sister. I was six when she gave birth. My mom had quite no interest for me. My mom taught me how to warm the bottle for my brother to see if it was too hot or too cold and to change the diaper, and then my brother was my responsibility. After a few months, after my sister turned one, my mom soon lost interest in her as well, and then both of my siblings were mostly my responsibly.
My stepfather grew worse and inflicted painful Charlie-horses on me and pulled my hair. We soon moved to a four-bedroom house in a cul-de-sac. I was about eight. He gazed mocking me and, when I cried, threatened to hurt me if I wouldn't stop crying. He inflicted punches to the head and arm, and I was lashed on the butt while bare skinned. I always wore long-sleeved shirts, turtlenecks, sweaters, and pants even on the hottest day to hide my bruises. Kids would laugh at me because I would dress as if a snow storm was coming in the middle of summer. My mom begged me to keep quiet, so I did until I was eleven.
The first worst thing that happened to me was when I was ten, and I had begun my rebellious stage. I mouthed off at my stepdad as he chased me down the stairs toward my mom. He pinned me down to a freezer and held a knife to my tongue. I do not remember what I said to him, but I sat up all night crying thinking he was going to come down to my basement bedroom and kill me.
The second worst time was when we were at my brother and sister's grandma's house, and I was crying for my mom so that we could go home. My step-father got enraged and held me up by the back of my coat strangling me.
The last time I saw him was when I was making eggs for my brother and sister because they were hungry and mom was still asleep at 11:00 am. He came out and punched me full force six or seven times. After that, my birth father took me in.
On both sides of my family tree, my grandparents were alcoholics. On my mom's side, my grandma and grandpa fought, and my grandpa knocked out my grandma a couple of times. Meanwhile, on my dad's side, my nana tried suicide twice.
While I lived with my biological dad, my mom divorced and had a baby with an old boyfriend from when she was a teenager. Her new boyfriend almost killed my grandpa, giving him seizures and almost killing his son/my brother and my mom. The young boyfriend went to jail, and I moved back with my mom.
I met my mom's paramour's snotty, ignorant kids who were 16 and ten years old. While I was with my mom, I found a 1500 dollar dog, a Shebanew. We found the owners and returned the dog, and as a reward, I got 100 dollar bill, but my mom took it, and that was not fair because I did everything for the dog, bought everything for it. So, I argue with my mom for MY money, and her boyfriend's daughter (16) charges toward me.
So, I lock myself in the washroom, and my mom comes out of her room and opens the door with a hanger. The daughter forces her way into the washroom and goes for me, so I put my hand out to grab her by the neck and throw her at the tub. She quickly springs back and bashes me in the head 12 times, and she says in her prissy little voice "you gonna listen now you little b#*ch." I retaliate with a "f@*k you" and spit in her hair.
She punched me one last time, and I burst out of the bathroom door, and my mom grabs me. "You're just overreacting," she says.
I said "no." "She f*#king punched me in the face, and your saying I'm overreacting." I struggle out of her grip and run to the apartment hallway. I start banging on every single door and yell "please someone help me."
Soon I got the attention of a couple with one son at the end of my hall. Usually, they didn't answer to strangers, but the way they heard me call for help, they knew it was an emergency. They let me into their home and called 911.
The police showed up and talked with my mom's boyfriend's daughter, and then they went to speak to my mom in the hall. When they walked out, she said bitch towards the cop and turned to me and said that I should watch my back. When the cop and my mom came in, the police insisted that I said "sorry" to my mom. I said no way, and I said it should be her saying sorry to me if anything. The officer said okay, you both say sorry. My mom said sorry like she didn't mean it, and then the Officer said that I should say sorry. I said, "I'm not saying sorry to this bitch, and, oh by the way, sorry not accepted."
My mom's boyfriend's kids left, and life continued normally for a couple of months. Then, I stayed out hanging with my friends too late, and I didn't realize it was around 2:00 am. A friend and I went into an apartment building because we got cold. The security guard called 911, reporting that there were two underdressed kids in the building. My mom came and got me, and the police took my friend home. My dad wanted to come and talk to me the next day. I said "no, " and then my mom called the cops and said that I was attacking her.
I hid for four hours then got caught by the Burger Barn. I sat in a jail cell for five hours, not using the bathroom. They released me to my great-grandparents, and they have custody of me until this school year is over.
My mom still wants to stay with the man that almost killed both her and my one-year-old brother. Now I face trying to take my brother from my mom before his father gets out of prison near my next birthday. I want to save my one-year-old brother from going down the road I had to take. I want to raise him and treat him like he should be and not how I was. My next birthday will be in 2013. How will my life turn out to be?
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