Child Abuse Story From
Snow

Snow is from Rhode Island, USA

The following child abuse story from Snow depicts: physical abuse, child neglect and emotional abuse

The child abuse effects on Snow: deep-seeded hatred for his father whom he refers to as Tim or Tim S., anger, hostility, depression, resentment

Alright... I dunno why I'm doing this, but I just wanna say some things. I'm a 15 kid who has, for my whole life, never lived in a proper home. Timothy S. is a lazy, selfish, uncaring drunk who has never tried to provide for my family.

I was born in Japan, and the only good memories I have were here, where I lived with my mother and my brother. My mother had a lot of money because she managed a tuxedo store. I was about 4 when I was told that we were going to America, not knowing that everything would have changed when we arrived there.

I was at the airport when I met Tim S. For the fist time, supposedly my father...but I'll just try to avoid saying that. I remember when I got out of the car I ran up to this beautiful house and asked," Is this our house??" He said no, and pointed to an old broken door. For my entire life from then on, our house (not even a house actually, more like an attic) had no electricity, and no heat. The only things we were buying were batteries for flashlights, ice for our cooler (makeshift fridge) and propane tanks for boiling water to eat our ramen noodles, Corn Flakes from the basement, and bread. My sister was born in America, so that was another mouth to feed, and we barely had any food.

As for Tim...he used up his money, wherever he got it, for alcohol. I also remember, he drove us to his grandmother's house, drunk on the highway, only to ask her for money. She made him promise that he would never drink again. Of course I knew what he was going to do the next day. He has beaten me severely, kicking me in the neck, smashing my head with bottles, using the belt. Our neighbors did nothing to help, despite all the yelling, shouting and screaming.

I wished every night before I went to sleep that Tim would die. I used to draw little comics about him dying in various ways, with the help of my 1-year-younger brother. We made over 100 pages of Tim dying, and that was the only way I spent my time, that and walking around the neighborhood to escape that shitty hellhole.

To make a long story short, I escaped with my mother, my brother and sister to an abuse shelter. We had a restraining order on that f***** bastard piece of shit asshole. I will never take anything for granted, like a simple light to a fridge.

So, now that all that is over, I'm going through high school depressed, with so-called friends that make fun of my past, dealing with gangs and drugs, and living in the projects. The only thing I have to pass my time is my computer.