Chapter 2: Appears to be the beginning of life.

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Her

Reads: 239

I was born to have both parents. My mother, as well as my father. Before I go into my ranting about my father, I'll start with my mother. My mom.... she was this slutty drugwhore who could get a millon guys to fuck her within a 24 hour time period. I didn't realize this at a young age, I only knew that my mom was always away, and when she was home, my father and mother would continuously fight and bicker and argue. I never enjoyed it. After the longest time of dealing with her drama, my father decided to take us kids away from her and that city in which we were living in at the time completely, which took away me from my very first best friend, Darcy. I was confused at first about it, then angry. It was as if I was going through the five stages of grief. Then, shortly after (talking about my father now, f.y.i.) my father had become very angry with everything. To some extent, it was reasonable, until it got to be very out-of-hand. He had started to abuse us children. If one thing wasn't done the way he wanted it done, we'd get hurt. It was for a little while just him using his hands to punch or slap, and his legs to kick. Soon after of him believing that using that method of "punishment" wasn't enough, he had resorted to sticks. Heavy, heavy sticks. This is when I started to get extremely depressed. School life had sucked enough, home life was worse, and worst of all, I had nowhere to run to, no safe place, no haven. By the time I had aged out of daycare, my oldest brother had already aged out and a frisky little rodent that had nothing to do. So, when I got out of daycare and started to stay home, my older brother started to really hurt me. He would always take me to my bedroom and rape me, because he'd blackmail me into doing that. I couldn't tell my dad, as that wouldn't do any good. So, I had to keep to myself, go to school everyday only to return home to doing... that. It was uncomfortable, and I didn't like it. It made me sick. Finally, after a few years of that happening, I had started counseling. I had been going long enough that I built a really good relationship with her, I loved going and hiding in her office for an hour, because I knew that my older brother wasn't going to be able to hurt me there. Then, one glorious day, I completely spazzed out in her office, telling her everything that my brother had done, although I kept my mouth shut about my father. This is the day where I left my home, for what I thought was going to be forever.


Submitted: July 09, 2018

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