child abuse story from Yazmin page was created June 29, 2007 and was originally
posted on June 16, 2007 as story #149.
is from London, England, United Kingdom
following child abuse story from Yazmin depicts: physical abuse and emotional
The child abuse effects on Yazmin: burns, cuts and bruises from beatings, fear of telling, low self-esteem, belief that she deserves to be beaten, self-harm in the form of cutting and starvation
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Hi, my name's Yazmin and this is my story. It's mostly my dad. My mum hardly ever beat me up, unless I did something really bad.
My dad never beat me from the ages of 1 - 5. I remember this day so clearly, like yesterday. It was a day before my 6th birthday. Me and my dad were in an elevator. My dad looked at me in a funny way and said "Remember, when you're six, I'm going to start beating you up." Ever since then I've been beaten up continuously by him. I have 5 younger siblings, and none of them are abused as much as me. (I'm the eldest.
I have my own room, a really small room with a computer in it. The computer was my only get-away from the real world of hitting and abuse. My dad moved it out of my room, simply because he felt like it. Now I'm just 13 and it's still carrying on.
I remember a time when my dad asked me to type something up for him on the computer at around 11:15 in the night. I told him I couldn't, as I had to wake up at 7 the next morning and I was up all night doing homework. He said nothing, and went back to doing what he was doing before, so I went to bed. I was about to fall asleep when the cover was thrown back and I was pulled out of bed by my legs. My dad had a huge black leather belt and was beating me with it. I pleaded and cried "Please Dad, I'm sorry, please...it hurts" till I had no choice but to bear the pain. The leather burnt my skin. He grabbed my arms to stop me from blocking the blows. I tried so hard to break free, but he held on tighter and bent my hand back so the nail on my thumb was bent backwards. It ripped right off. I didn't feel anything. My whole body was sore and numb. He threw the belt to the ground and made me look him in the eye. I stared straight back at him, saying nothing. He slapped me across my face, a blow so hard I fell backwards.
My dad's beaten me up in public. He does this to my brothers too. If he see's them playing outside with a boy who looks "rough" to him, he'll bring a shoe out and beat them there and then. He calls me a bastard and useless. He says there's no point in me living. I've cut myself many times and even starved myself.
Another time, my dad was at work and my mum was out. I was babysitting the kids. It got quite late, so I tucked all my siblings into bed, turning off all the lights on my way around the house. I then retreated to my bed and read a book for awhile. One of my siblings must have gone downstairs for a drink or something, and left the lights on. I walked out of my room because I heard someone downstairs. I went to check. My heart was beating so fast because I had this weird feeling. My dad came out the kitchen and grabbed me by the hair and squeezed the flesh underneath my arms between his nails. With his other hand he was beating me continuously. I stopped begging for him to stop and shielded my most important bits, like my eyes and stuff. He hits me with literally anything: wires, cords, sticks, spoons, shoes.
I also remember once, not too long ago, there was a daddy-long-leg in the corner of the room. I screamed, but quickly shut up. Too late. My dad saw the insect and put it in my hair. He found another one in the garden and made me eat it while slapping and whipping me, calling me a coward and a useless bitch.
I have so many bruises and cuts on my arms. When one heals, my dad makes another bruise. I had this bruise on my arm, it was really big and looked red and sore. My teacher saw it and asked me what happened. I told her me and my sister were playing rough. She believed me.
Another time, my brother told on me for something. My dad threw a glass of juice on me. I was drenched in water and there were bits of glass sticking out my arms. I told everyone my cat scratched me. When Social Services come, he says we can't say anything, and sometimes we all have to hide and not open the door when they visit. My friends don't suspect a thing. They think I'm weird because I'm never allowed out with them to parties and such. I wish I could, but my dad doesn't let me out the house. If I mention going to a friend's house in front of him, he'll beat me up with a television wire or a phone charger. He's already decided my future. His exact words are "You're going to become a doctor and make money and look after me."
I don't want to be a doctor. I want to do fashion and beauty. I once mentioned this to him and he almost slit my throat. He threatened to really kill me if I don't pass my exams. He said he'll send me to Africa where men will rape me continuously, because that's what I deserve. I love my mum so much. She almost always tries to stop my dad, but he says to her "If you stop me, I'll beat you up as well." And he's already done that.
My mum hugs me and tells me not to worry and to stay away from him. My mum is like my angel. Even if she gets really angry at me sometimes, she hardly EVER beats me. I really do love her.
My dad's barred me from having an outside life. I hate school holidays. He drags me out of my bed by my hair at 6 a.m. to clean and scrub the floor. When I sit down he kicks and punches me and tells me I'm useless. He's done so much more, and it hurts so much to remember all this.
At school I used to see my friends' dads and watch them pick them up and swing them around and bring them presents. The only time my dad touched me was in a way I didn't want to be touched. I cry myself to sleep almost every night. The only person I've told is my friend Tom. He understands because he's been through the same sort of thing. I'm really scared to tell anyone. No one else knows. I'm scared that my family will hate me if my dad gets taken away. I don't blame them, he's so good to them, but he hates me. I just want to know why so I can make him happy. I think I've wrote enough now.
Thanks so much for reading. It really helped writing it down.
NOTE: Information pages on this site were based on material from the
Canadian Red Cross RespectED Training Program. Written permission was obtained to use their copyrighted material on this site.
Child abuse story from Yazmim was re-formatted June 13, 2015
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