Behind Closed Doors

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: October 11, 2017

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Submitted: October 11, 2017

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Not every little girl wants to kill herself, and not every little girl’s first memory is of her mother screaming at her for no reason. I was that little girl I was all alone my father was murdered when I was just a baby, and my mother rather go out and party or lay in bed with a bottle of alcohol then even realize I existed. If I wasn’t at my grandmother's house I was at another family member's house over the weekend while my mother dumped me off for her friends, it was like I was invisible I cried almost everyday because I felt I wasn’t good enough or she didn’t even want me.

 

 One time in the winter when it was around 20 degrees outside and I was letting my dog out I had accidently locked myself outside I was banging on the door I was cold and hungry I was outside for about 2 hours I ended up curling up in a corner with my dog making sure he stayed warm and finally my mother, who was still hungover from the night before, opened the door, she made me feel like an idiot for locking myself out, I was just 4 years old.

 

It was the same routine for so long I thought this is how every kid lived but later on in life I’d realize it wasn’t. I lived everyday in fear that if I did one thing wrong i’d be punished and my mother’s way of punishment was not a joy ride. One way of punishment was for me to sit in front of her and she would take the rings on her fingers and turn so that the jewels would hit me in the face, she would have me sit there and i’d have to wait to be hit. There was one time where she had hit me and threw me against the wall and choked me because I didn’t clean the cat's litterbox that day.

 

 I thought this was going to be my life until I turned 7 and my baby sister was born I felt like there would be change and there was, my mother, sister, and new stepdad were a happy family for quite some time. Eventually the relationship between my mother and stepdad went downhill, I had to listen to constant fighting and screaming, until they both decided it was over. My mother went back to her old ways but it was far worse than before and soon I was going to realize that.

 

 When my sister was old enough to not need my mother so much I had to take care of her I had to give her baths, make sure she ate, potty train, making her take naps, and I even helped get her a jump start on education. My mom was in a tech college to become a CNA but her alcoholism didn’t mix well in her life, she was still verbally and physically abusive to me. She would drive while intoxicated with me and my sister in the car, my sister would sometimes look at me with fear in her eyes because my mother would almost go off the road.  One night after my first activity night in middle school my mother beat me for spending 6$ that she gave me, she slammed me to the floor and choked me while she hit me over and over, I escaped and ran to my room, but she followed and she had done the same as what she had done to me on the stairs.

 

Another horrific event was when my mom was cooking and it was roughly 11 at night, she asked me to grab a frying pan and I gave her the wrong one, and she shrieked the words I was so used to hearing “You dumb little piece of s***” , then she grabbed me by my hair across the kitchen floor and kept hitting me, I curled up on that floor for several minutes because I was too scared to move and finally after what felt like an eternity I slowly rose from the hard, cold floor and crept into my room.  


 

The only good things in my life at the time were my cat, my dog, and my sister, I felt they were the only ones who wouldn’t hurt me. I didn’t want to go to school or be at home, at school I was bullied and treated me like a moron, and at home it was no different, I just wanted to crawl and hide under my bed and never come out, and live in the darkness at least no one could ever hurt me. People could never guess what was happening to me because I always put on a face for everyone, I learned how to act happy and what I thought was normal, you might as well name me an actress because everyone bought it, even my own family members couldn’t tell it was an act.

 

Sixth-grade wasn’t easy it was the time where my family had dragged my back and forth between homes, I was so confused on what rules to listen to, my grandmother of my mom.  My mom was in and out of rehabs and hospitals, and the phrase “I will change this time.” was her greatest lie, the longest she was sober was two weeks and we would be back at square one. I couldn’t help the feeling of slowly hating my mother but each time she broke my heart that feeling got stronger.

 

By seventh grade I was permanently living with my grandmother as my vodka loving mother kept running in with the law, getting caught drinking and driving several times, it had come to a point where I didn’t even think about her, almost as if she didn’t exist to me. My grades still suffered because I didn’t care, after all I been through what was the point of it all, I grew a blackness in my heart, I always felt numb and cold. As months went on and going into eighth grade I started to feel this force follow me and it was as if it was sucking the life out of me and it fed on the only happiness I had.

 

At first I thought it was hormones and apart of growing up, but the feeling never went away. Throughout the school year I had my ups and downs, I managed just passing by but I knew it wasn’t enough but I didn’t care. When summer was about to hit and so was high school I was told that my mother would be moving in with us and right away I thought I was going to fainted from the anxiety. The day that she had came and moved her stuff in was the slowest I ever walked home because I dreaded having to look her in the eyes, the woman who put me through hell and didn’t care was back.




 

Seeing her pale, cold, and dead like face made me want to scream as she smiled at me, a smile that had always lied to me, she walked up to me and gave me a hug but I didn’t wrap my arms around her and she knew then and there I didn’t want anything to do with her. I tried to avoid her the first week of her living with us but being stuck in the house alone with her for 8 hours of the day made it hard to act like she was invisible. I slowly came around to my mom being around me and we started to talk here and there, especially about the chores we had to do, and I would be surprised that over that summer of 2014 I would have built a relationship with my mother.

 

As the school year approached and my anxiety towards starting high school had  grown, my mom was trying to find her own place, I was so close to her and didn’t want her to go but I knew it’s what she wanted. My first month of high school wasn’t as bad as the movies and tv shows had talked about. My mom was still living with us until the month of September was over, and the first day she was gone I missed her more than I ever had before and I was only able to stay weekends at that moment wishing I could live with her, but I couldn't give her that trust just yet, little did I know that soon I would have to live with her, but the reasoning for it was unreal.

 

November 18th, 2014 as I was curled up in bed in my grandmother's home, my mother was being stabbed and beaten by a man she had met on facebook, a man who I had met to and thought was normal was beating and trying to kill my mother that night. i didn't find out about the incident until roughly two days later after getting out of my first detention, my grandmother had handed me her phone and told me to read the article that was pulled up. As I was starting to read my grandmother had asked me about the man that my mother had over, I had told my grandma he was a nice man and seemed kind, my grandmother had looked at me and told me just to read the article as she drove away from my school. As I was reading through this awful article I looked at my grandmother and asked if he did this to someone in town, she looked at me with a few teardrops rolling down her face and told me he had done this to my mother.

 

My grandmother drove me to the hospital so I could see my mother, but I was to shocked to react to anything, this article I had just read was describing a scene that had come out of a movie, it couldn't have been real, you never think something like this could happen to you or someone you love. My grandmother decided it wouldn't have been a good idea to bring my sister just yet, and she made the right decision because to me my mother was unrecognizable, blood in her hair, her face black and blue, and her hands wrapped up from him cutting her hands leaving her tendons destroyed. To think that she looked better then the day before shocked me even more then anything else.

 

I somewhat blame myself for what happened to her hands, she had told me she had tried to grab the knife but he pulled it out of her hands sliting her fingers, but she said she did it for me, she tried to fight for me so I wouldn't be left with no parents. She had told me in that dark room the only thing she could see was a picture of me, she cried as she told me she wouldn't forgive herself if she didn't try because I would have a father who was murdered and then a mother murdered. I cried as she described that night. As the rest of the week passed school wasn't on my list of worries teachers noticed my new attitude, I never talked about it because no one could understand my feelings, all except my kind biology teacher, she had known my family pretty well without her I don't think I could have pulled through, she had given me a lending hand knowing how hurt I was.

 

After spending my weekend at the hospital taking care of my mother and sleeping on a lumpy, cold hospital couch. When my mom was finally released I moved in with her right away knowing she would need help managing her wounds and daily tasks, due to her slashed up hands.  Over the months of caring for her I had my mother back and I was finally happy where I was, even when my mother got married just a few months after her attack, I was just happy that she was happy.

 

March of 2015 was what I can say as the worst month of my life, my mother was taken to prison for her DUI'S the year before, and my great-grandmother's passing, losing two people I loved in one month, at some points I wanted to kill myself which was something I hadn't felt in a few months. Now living with my grandparents again, my grandfather was a constant reminder of who my mother used to be, he was verbally abusive and a drunk. He would point out everything I did wrong and tell me I was nothing, or will be nothing. Years and years having to deal with such a negative person, missing my mother and wanting her home. High school had gotten worse, I had went from an honor roll student to being okay with just passing, not giving my all.

 

Throughout high school I came along some amazing teachers and students who I will keep close to my heart, especially that biology teach who i had classes with the next two years. As my junior year came to an end my mother's release date came closer. My mother was finally free in August of 2017 and that was the day I saw the light out of these years of darkness.

 

Today I live with my mother, my stepfather and my sister, I still battle depression and PTSD from my childhood, still having suicidal thoughts, but everyday I grow stronger, not letting my grandfather's harsh words take over anymore. I used to hate myself, but know I am happier with who I am. I'm a senior in high school and without certain people including that biology teacher I wouldn't be graduating in a few months. Everyone thinks my life is easy because I come from money, but you don't know what happens behind a closed door.

 


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