Child Abuse Story From Anonymous20

by Anonymous
(USA)

A Tiny Sense of Closure: 
I stopped thinking about my situations lately, for a while actually. I don't know why tonight it is affecting me. But, five days ago I moved to Houston to get out of my house near Philadelphia. I am living with my cousin for a while to get away from the awkwardness in my family, and the drugs and alcohol.

My mother and father lived in Poland, and met there. My mom is deaf, and I use sign language with her. They moved to Ohio and had me in 1990 (I am now 18).

My father recovered as an alcoholic in America, but met a new friend, and indulged himself in drinks every day. I remember he slapped me for switching a channel. I was three or so. My aunt told me last summer that I would always have bruises on my body and she finally confronted him. I remember my dad punched my mom in the face and me, my younger brother, who was 2 at the time, and my mother herself were in the bathroom, and she was sitting on the toilet, crying. I was so confused. He also pushed my mom down the steps one time and broke one of her index fingers. After the punching incident (the final call), he was taken by the police. I remember going to my aunt's house, and he would bang on the windows, and I would just stare at him while my mother and aunt shut the curtains.

From there, we drove up to Pennsylvania to move in with my mother's high school sweetheart, who is also deaf. We stayed there till I was in the middle of 3rd grade, and moved to another part of Pennsylvania. All I remember from that house with him starting out violent, not even, was forcing me to my room during my birthday party. For nothing big.

When we moved out of that house, where his grandmother also lived, I started experiencing abuse, again. They got married. He would touch me in weird ways. When I was 10, my mother went to Poland to visit her mother and I remember he asked me to sleep with him. When I felt his genitalia against me, I ran out. Never spoken about again. Just the awkward touches, and always grabbing me.

He started out with slapping me as a small punishment, but eventually, he started to yell horribly. Yes, deaf people can scream, loudly. And I eventually understood what he was trying to say. Everyday, every 5 minutes for years of my life, he would call me a bitch, motherfucker, that he hated me...more awful things. But literally every sentence included the word bitch, even when I was young. I told my mom, but...hmm. Also eff words were thrown in all the time. When I was 14, I wrote a few suicide notes, and had temper tantrums everyday. When I got home I would eat something, and if he caught me eating he would hit me because I was supposed to wait till dinner. If I drank a soda he hit me. Every physical event included verbal also.

I didn't have friends sleep over till I was maybe 16. My best friend for 2 years of that time never slept over until then. He never hurt my brother that much, and never after he was maybe 11 or 12 or so.

If there was something on the floor, he would rage and scream at me, chasing me around the house attempting to hit me. I have physically fought him numerous times. He had bashed my head into a Plexiglas window, where it shattered. He has punched me in the head, all over, pushed me onto my upstairs steps, and grabbed my hair, banging my head against the steps, to the point where I blacked out for a few seconds. I always ran away. In the kitchen he would push the table against my stomach when I was against the wall. He'd throw me to the ground and kick me. He once picked up an electric guitar of mine and attempted to bash my head with the end of it horizontally. I'm just listing a few incidences. My mother would watch, but never saw the worst of it.

My mother and brother would blame me for causing hatred in the family, but all I was trying to do by acting out against them, was to protect us. And I was so young. It hurt me the most when my brother would tell me to calm down because I was being a bitch.

One day last year, my mother called the cops for me, and for the 2nd time in my life a person that was supposed to protect me and love me was put in handcuffs for beating me. We went to court, but he came back after the end of the summer. We remained calm since then, but I hate it when my mom forces me to hug him, or say goodbye to him. Before, at night, if I didn't say goodnight he would say I was rude and that he hated me. The worst part of all of this is, seeing my mom, being beaten once. He has taken her by the neck, kept her in the basement for 20 minutes, maybe as a joke, but she was scared of the dark, and I tried to push him and push him, but he hit me away. Since I can hear and she can't, I can hear him calling her a stupid bitch, or a dumbass, or something bad...and she doesn't know, because I don't have the heart to tell her.

I've been to therapy, but I don't really believe in it. I used to write everyday, just lyrics, and I've always wanted to be in a band. But in 8th grade I got social anxiety. I could be normal with my friends and one on one, but not when I have to speak myself in class with everyone staring. I got panic attacks all the time. I don't want to get a job because I'm too afraid, I don't know why. I just get overly nervous. I drink everyday myself. My brother smokes too much weed, and we hardly get along and it kills me. Me and my friends have just turned ourselves over to alcohol. Since 11th grade I've been skipping classes and smoking instead. I don't believe in god anymore, but when I think about it I don't think I would anyway.

I know this is a lot of blabbering but it's just my train of thoughts. And there's so much more...I just hope one day I can improve...and not be afraid of people, or messing up, and maybe I can have confidence,, maybe believe in myself, stick up for myself. Maybe, one day. Writing and music is all that saves me. My best friend of 6 years doesn't even know half of this.

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