Child Abuse Story From El

by El
(Location Undisclosed)

My first memory was cowering underneath a desk while my dad was yelling at me to get out. When I didn’t come out, he grabbed me out enough so that he could hit me over and over and over. This happened because I didn’t want to waste time sitting down and eating when I could play.

I remember spending time with my dad going out to movies and diners. My mom was never home and when she was, she was always talking on the phone or sleeping. Sometimes I would hear her talking to my older sisters but she never had time to talk to me. I felt jealous and always tried to get her attention.

I guess my story is about how my dad abused me and my sisters and how my mom turned a blind eye.

In the beginning it was all physical and then the verbal set in mixing with sexual abuse later on.

We got a puppy when I was 8. The dog would pee everywhere and my dad would put her in the basement and hide her behind a ton of boxes so she wouldn’t be able to get out. In the day he would put her on a leash outside. My mom decided to take the dog inside and she pooped. My dad found out and my mom told him that I did it. He started yelling at me and hitting me and kicking me until I was cornered in the kitchen cabinets cowering in fetal position. My mom and sister were laughing. (I would bring this up often and my mom would tell me “how do you remember that? Can’t you just leave it alone?”)

In elementary school, he would ask to see my homework. When I had questions I would ask him what to do. He would tell me how to get the answer and when I didn’t understand he would hit me in frustration until I had stinging red marks on my arms. I would run up to my oldest sister’s room and cry until she made me feel better. I always called her mom because I grew up with her taking care of me (walking me to school, bringing me out to buy toys, cooking food and hugging me when something was wrong).

When he got mad, I would wake up to him in my bed shaking me and hitting me.

When I look back, I can see vivid memories of him hitting me and my sisters. The worse was when my sister ran away and he and my mom screamed and hit my sister. I could hear the slaps in my room and I ended up falling asleep to the sound.
He started patting me and my sisters on the butt. When I was sitting on the couch, he would pretend to tickle me by running his fingers up and down my body. I would yell at him to stop and I would tell my mom but all she said was “he’s just kidding”.

I ran across my sister’s journal and I was surprised to see records of my dad abusing my sister, yelling and hitting her and doing acts that hinted of sexual harassment.

My dad and sister moved to California. My mom stopped cooking and I ended up not having any food to eat. I was 12 years old and didn’t have money to buy groceries. My dad brought me to California when I told him. It would rain a lot and there were blackouts. At one time he ended up kissing me with tongue and everything. I moved again, the whole family together. He didn’t kiss me anymore.

He started calling me a sl*t when I hit high school and would call me stupid all the time. He hid my skirts (handed over by my sisters) and threw out my shoes. When I yelled at him, he ran after me into my room and in the process gave me a bloody lip. Whenever he hit me it would only leave a stinging sensation that disappeared but never bruises. He got angry at me one day and chased me to my room where he took a wired hanger and repeatedly tried to hit me and ended up leaving a huge welt and bruise on my thigh.

I had enough so I called a helpline that suggested I call the police. That night, my dad was arrested and put in jail. When the police called, my sister answered and pretended to be me so they would let my dad come home. We ended up moving while my dad was still in jail. I went to the mental hospital shortly after where I was diagnosed as bipolar. I had a restraining order against him but one day he showed up with no warning given to me by staff. It really shook me up.

I eventually left the hospital and my dad came back to stay with me and my mom. My oldest sister had moved to another country and my middle sister cut us off from her life. I was alone with my mom working most of the time, leaving me alone with my dad. He would call me a dumba** and call me stupid and fat. I confronted him and he told me to shut up. When I told him about him hitting me, he had no memory. He only remembered shutting me up in the bathroom in the dark.

He asks me everyday why I put him in jail. I tell him its because I was crazy when inside I was thinking that I didn’t put in jail, he put himself there. The reason why I’m writing this is because I have no one to talk to. My mom tells me he’s just kidding or tells me not to make him mad. My sisters don’t live with me and its hard to communicate since one sister cut us off from her life and the other lives in another country.

Today he told me he wished I never came home. He tells me im turning manic every day. There’s supposed to be a hurricane in my area tomorrow morning. I heard that people filled their tubs with water to use for hygiene because of power outages. I filled the tub with water and my dad got angry. He called me a stupid dumba** and told me he’s going to send me to the hospital. Right now, I’ve locked myself in the bathroom because im too upset to be in the same room with him.

I don’t know what to do. I feel so broken. It wouldn’t be so bad if I had an outlet. I would rather he hit me then talk to me like that. I take my sickness very seriously and it hurts when he uses it against me. I feel like I’m reminded of my sickness every day when my dad speaks to me about me going crazy. All my relatives live in another country and I’ve had so much anxiety where I live that I don’t have anymore friends. I’m terrified of being in public and am anxious about my weight which my dad comments on constantly. I basically have nowhere to go and my dad said if I put him in jail again that he would never let me live with him again. I have to live with him or else I will become homeless. At least he doesn’t sexually harass me anymore or hit me. Although id rather take the physical abuse rather than the verbal.

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