Child Abuse Story From Carmen1
by Carmen
(California, USA)
I hate him for what he did to me: I am the middle child of 3 daughters. My father only hit me once; however, day in and day out he would knock the wind out of me with his hateful words. For some reason (maybe he wanted a boy and was disappointed, maybe I reminded him of someone he hated, maybe I was too sensitive) he singled me out. His tone, his abusive language, every time he looked or talked to me it was with rage; however, with my sisters he was pleasant and would compliment them.
I remember it was my 15th birthday and I put on my dress and did my hair. I was happy. I walked out to the living room and my dad looked at me and didn't say anything. My sister followed in behind me and he said to her, "Wow, you look so pretty." It was "my day" and with that sentence he destroyed it.
My sadness turned to hate, an intense hate. I prayed daily that he would die in an accident at work and never come home. I was happy at school, no parents around. As soon as I stepped foot in my home, I could feel the big black cloud over my head, just waiting for an explosion of anger from him.
Today, he asks, "Why doesn't she call me?" I have absolutely no desire to pick up the phone and talk to him. If we see each other face to face I am civil. I have children now and yes, they can push your buttons, but I love them. I would jump in front of a bus for them. I can't see how a parent would have hatred toward a child. How awful for a child to believe that instead of the parent jumping in front of the bus, the parent would push the child in front of the bus. Because of him I live with this anger; it's always with me, just boiling right under my skin, ready to explode if I feel I am being attacked. I took so much for so many years. I guess a part of me can't take anything now.
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