memory # 7

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
“Just leave her alone”. My brother was slamming the door to our bedroom shut, and then he locked it. My mom just hit me hard for no reason, and left. She just stood up hit me called me a bitch and left. I ran to my room crying. I can't take much more, I feel like I'm being pushed over the edge, into a place I don't want to be.


This is the most hurtful experience and memory of my life..this is WORSE then me comeing close to being raped..it hurts me still, and i still resolve many of life's problems with violence, many people dont bother me,
but i know my brother doesnt...this is probably the last one i will have..they rest are blurry and i don't remember them as well

Submitted: March 15, 2009

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Submitted: March 15, 2009

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After this incident happened I was taken to a hospital, I can't remember where exactly, I slept most of the time. All I know is that they asked me a bunch of questions and took tests. And they told me I was bi-polar. I don't take medicine anymore because I don't want to, I'm almost seventeen I can control it. Even though I do have my outbursts.
Just leave her alone”. My brother was slamming the door to our bedroom shut, and then he locked it. My mom just hit me hard for no reason, and left. She just stood up hit me called me a bitch and left. I ran to my room crying. I can't take much more, I feel like I'm being pushed over the edge, into a place I don't want to be. “They won't bother you”. He meant my sisters, who were being nosy and was trying to find out what happened.
You don't bother me either”. I just snapped I don't know what happened. I pushed him on the bed and threaten to hit him if he didn't get out. He stood trying to leave and I pushed him back down, repeating that if he didn't get out I would hit him. This went on for about three more times, then a look of fear came upon his eyes, and he cowered under the blankets as I began to punch him. And I mean punch. I heard my mother walk into the house and I could hear my brother begin to cry and after what seemed like forever, I stopped hitting him and glared him down as he ran for the door. I pushed him to the floor where I punched him again.
Sissy, please stop”. He started to cry again. I stopped and he rose slowly, aching all over, black eyes forming, and a busted lip. He slowly walked out the bedroom where my two older sisters stood. When they saw him they were shocked; and wouldn't move. Until Krissy came in to my room and tried to talk to me and I punched her and her nose began to bleed. My mom hearing the commotion and couldn't concentrate on the drugs that she so badly wanted, came barreling out of the bedroom. Staring me down as I calmly washed my hands from my sister's blood, and got a drink of water.
WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING”. She stared from my sisters in the hallway, to my crying brother on the couch, holding a cold rag to his lip. I heard my dad out in the driveway, probably coming home. “Your going to get it bad now”. She grabbed a near by belt, it was my sister's belt. One back in her “gothic” phase; spikes all over it. And she hit me, right on the butt, then as she watched me cringe in pain she went across my back. I cried out and grabbed the nearest thing to me, a knife. I felt the cold handle and I could see the blade, and I became a different person. A deranged one, someone that could kill anyone and everyone that pissed her off.
Get the hell off of my”. I whipped around with the knife in my hand, it was at her neck in an instance, I was going to cut her, I was going to watch her bleed and cut anyone that tried to save her. I wanted her dead.
TERESA LOUISE”. My dad's voice bellows over my sisters and brother's crying. I stop, staring at him, daring anyone to tell me not to. “Please, put that down'. And as I began to cry, I heard her crying. I trailed the knife down her throat, right to her heart. And stopped, ready to push it in. I looked up, my dad's face blank, and tears coming down, knowing that if I did this, I would be in so much trouble.
Okay dad, for you”. I drop the knife and stare ahead and look her into her eyes. “Your the luckiest bitch, if my father hadn't come in here, you would be bleeding on the kitchen floor”. I walk away from her and into my room, and fell asleep.
I woke up a few hours later to hear my mother and father arguing. She said I needed to be locked up, and that jail was the only option. Fury rose in me again and I was going to get out of bed but my brother's calm snoring stopped me, and I just laid there, hearing them talk to people from our church. And one told of a hospital, the one I went to. The rest of the memories I have are hazed, and I cant remember them all. I still have not forgiven my mother, and I never will. And when I turn 18, I'm moving with in with my sister, away from her. Away from memories. Away from pain.


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