Child Abuse Story From Amanda K

by Amanda K
(Spencer, Massachusetts)

My story started at the age of five. It all started after my mom met my stepfather. Before then I had never been hit. The first time was when we lived down in North Carolina. I had come home from school and decided to make a paper airplane. I was fooling around in the kitchen and accidentally got it in a candle that was burning and it caught on fire. I took it out of the candle and threw it in the sink. I put it out, but ended up burning my hand anyway. When my stepfather came home, he saw it and I knew that was it. He gave me a choice between a beating with the belt and placing my hand over the open flame. I didn't want either one. I remember begging him not to do it, but it happened anyway. I didn't know what had just happened. The louder I cried, the harder the hits got.

Over the next couple of years, the beatings became daily routine. When my stepfather went to jail, the beatings my mother gave me were even worse. It was always my sister's and my fault. I was beaten with a leather belt, wood boards, twigs, hairbrushes, brooms and anything that was near. After awhile, it's sad, but it doesn't hurt anymore. You just kind of learn to block it all out. Nothing hurts anymore. The tears just stop coming altogether. It's like you turn into a robot with no emotions. If the house wasn't clean, dinner wasn't cooked, or my younger brother and sister weren't taken care of, I knew it was going to be hell that night. I could never understand why someone that is supposed to love you and protect you from harm is the one causing it. There were always promises of a better tomorrow, but it never came.

I started doing drugs and drinking when I was about nine. It was an escape for me, and made things easier for some reason. My mom was always out, coming home at 4 in the morning, drunk or messed up on drugs, always saying she hated me and it was my fault that her life ended up like this. I never knew what I did to her that was so terribly wrong. It seemed like the harder I tried to please her, the harder it was not to make her mad.

I finally moved out 3 years ago. I stopped the drugs and drinking, and am working a wonderful job. My younger brother and sister aren't so lucky, since they are in a foster home at the moment. I never thought that I would live to be the age of 16, but here I am. I made it through and am stronger than ever now because of what I was made to go through.

Just always remember to stay strong. Everything gets better sooner or later.

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