Child Abuse Story From A Broken Soul
by Name Undisclosed
(Location Undisclosed)
I know my story isn't that bad and it probably doesn't even belong here, but I have a lot of anger and sadness in me that doesn't go away, and I think it might have something to do with how I grew up.
Both of my parents grew up in physically abusive households at the hands of their fathers. Really, the only problem I have is with my dad, but my mom is the one who lets it happen.
Since I was very young I have had the constant pressure to be perfect in all aspects of my life. I have always been afraid of my father, not so much because he was abusive (since I was beat but normally like every other child, although sometimes he would pull my hair or choke me and my sister) but because of how he would verbally lash out in anger, threaten me and terrorize me.
When me and my little sister were younger we used to have cats, which we loved. He would grab them and smash their faces against the ground or walls and beat them or just hurt them until they made this crying sound that to this day makes me wanna throw up. I just felt so helpless and hysterical because I couldn't help them. I know the abuse wasn't being done to me but it still hurt. I have also been called stupid worthless and told that I won't go anywhere in life despite the fact I'm a good student and even recognized for it at school. I was told that I don't deserve to get the awards and things I do at school and that I'm just fooling everyone else. He often made me watch while he "disciplined" my sister, which hurt worse than when he did those things to me. He has forced me to degrade myself and stare at the mirror after I'd been crying and call myself a screw up. He has also threatened to cut off all my hair and make me wear the same clothes to school every day. Growing up I have always been afraid of him and afraid to mess up or make the smallest mistake. I have strived to please him but nothing seems to work. I jump whenever he calls my name, even if he's not angry at the time. I hate being at home. Sometimes I cry myself to sleep, but I don't know why because it's not that bad. A part of me wants to hate him, but a part of me knows that he grew up worse so I should be grateful.
I'm 16 and I'm about to graduate soon, so I'm happy to leave the house and be free to start my own life, but I feel guilty leaving my sister and my mother because I love them dearly. A part of me thinks the whole family will be better off without me too.
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