Child Abuse Story From Michelle3

by Michelle
(Location Undisclosed)

I was emotionally, physically, and mentally abused. I am still paying for it and I probably will pay for it for the rest of my life.

My father and my mother divorced when I was three. I didn't understand what was going on, and I was confused. My mother left because my father was abusive.

Now Daddy was a kind man to me while he was divorced from Momma. He wouldn't yell, he wouldn't scream, and he never hit me. My father never touched me inappropriately. He never molested me. He never has. He would always have Nanny (My grandma) bathe me instead of bathing me himself.

The abuse started when I was five. Daddy met a "nice" woman named LaDonna. I never liked her, but when I said something, I was always told that I would begin to like her. They got married after a few months of dating. She had a daughter of her own I'll call Linda. LaDonna started making me call her "Mama" and to call my real mom "Juliet". It worked for awhile until my real momma started to throw a fit. So I started to call my stepmom LaDonna; she got so upset that she screamed at me in the middle of Wal*Mart. It got people to stare at us while she called me ungrateful and disrespectful. I didn't understand what was going on. When we got home, I was the first in the family to get a spanking from Daddy. It didn't hurt, seeing as it was a few swats, but it scared me. I called her Mama to keep from getting hurt. Ever since then, she would lie to him to get me to be spanked.

When I was 7, the Parent Trap came out with Lindsay Lohan as the two little girls. It got me the idea to get my mom and dad back together. I acted out for awhile, hoping I could get them together. My daddy managed to get me to tell him why I was acting out. I told him what it was and I was sent to the therapist. LaDonna went first and told the therapist that I was a god-forsaken child that says that she was the worst parent there ever was. I was told that I was acting out the classic case of the 'Cinderella Syndrome.' I got spanked later that night for the lies that LaDonna told my father and the therapist.

LaDonna manipulated me and my father, making each other believe that the other was a horrible person. I was spanked for things that I didn't do. I was spanked with the belt for every little thing that I did wrong.

When I was nine, I was diagnosed with A.D.H.D. and was put through a trial period of medications. I was always unstable, which got me more spankings. I was then sent to live with my mother. I moved from a home with rules and consequences and into a house with lax rules. (My mother was a good mama. She worked hard to provide for me.) Though I was a complete brat to her. I didn't know what else to do. I was picked on at school, and I always lashed out at her for it. So when I turned 10 I was sent back to live with my father.

Daddy and LaDonna had been conversing about how evil I was and how I was going to ruin their 'happiness.' Linda was treated like the star child. She got expensive presents for her birthday and I got some crappy gifts. Our birthdays were too close together so they had to compromise.

I hated living there. When I was 11, I was manipulated by LaDonna to hate my father and to hate my real mother. I even screamed to my daddy that I hated him. My father responded by talking about things that didn't relate to the topic.

I was impulsive because of my A.D.H.D. and I put the cat in the dryer. I wasn't going to turn it on. She looked at it curiously, so I thought that I would let her get in there and see what the dryer was. I kept the door opened and patted the cat. My father came in and began to beat me with the belt for what I did. He sent me to a mental hospital. LaDonna took that chance to warn the doctors that I was manipulative and a liar. I was sent home after 3 weeks. I was put on Bi-polar medication. I gained weight and had thoughts of suicide.

Around that time, my grandfather died and my little brother died a month later, three weeks after he was born. I never got to see my little brother. I would often cry about it. My father would always tear me down, say that all I wanted was sympathy out of it. I was spanked for crying over my dead baby brother.

When I was 15, I had a dream about killing my classmates that were mean to me. It scared the hell out of me, but I couldn't talk to it about LaDonna. She would have just called up Daddy and her sister and tell them about it, and I would have gotten spanked again. So I wrote the dream down. I wrote down how I hated it, how much blood there was, how I was scared of it. I took the wrong notebook to school and accidentally left it on a desk in Math. The student who's name was mentioned found it and read it. I was sent to the principal's office. During which, I began scratching my arms with keys. (I couldn't get blood from it. It was too dull.) LaDonna was called and told the principal that I would be thoroughly punished for the 'attention' that I so 'wanted' to get. The principal came to my rescue. He said that it wouldn't be necessary and told her that it would be a bad idea if I was punished for that. I was sent to another mental hospital where LaDonna and Daddy tried to get me to say that I was just doing this for attention. I showed them the scratches and scars on my arms and literally screamed "WHY THE F**K WOULD I WANT ATTENTION FROM BASTARDS LIKE YOU? I WANT TO F**KING DIE INSTEAD OF LIVING WITH YOU! I EVEN DRANK MEAN GREEN CLEANER WITH MILK AND I STILL DIDN'T DIE!" I was there at the hospital for 2 weeks and I loved it. It was like a vacation. I was free from them. The doctors there realized that I was A.D.H.D. instead of bi-polar and put me on the right meds.

When I got home, it changed. My little sister and little brother would throw rocks at me at the bus-stop. When I told LaDonna, she would say that I was older, therefore, I shouldn't even be telling on them. It got so bad that my little sister picked up a huge piece of asphalt that had broken off the street and called my name. I turned and she threw it at my head. It caught me against the temple and I was bleeding from there. I went to school with a bleeding forehead and a bloody shirt. I just told them that I tripped and fell on the street and hit my head. LaDonna heard the story and told my dad that I was self-injuring myself to get attention again. I told them that I wasn't and what had happened. LaDonna then told my dad that I didn't want to get in trouble so I was telling lies on my siblings. I was spanked really hard.

When I was 16, a mentally challenged girl got mad at me because I couldn't sit next to her on the bus. (I had gotten an assigned seat on the bus). She called LaDonna and told them that I had called her a fag. I have never used that word in my life, mainly because my uncle is gay and the word fag just sounds so disgusting and vile that I would never use it. The mentally challenged girl was known for her lies and deceit. I was beaten for three hours as I told my father that I would have never used that word. This story has still haunted me throughout my life because my father believed a mentally challenged girl over his own daughter.

I was labeled as a liar and I was cursed throughout my life. My father had always told me that I was insane and I had always believed him. I still believe him. Sometimes, I think back on the things he and LaDonna have done to me and wonder if it was my imagination. But it did happen.

Finally, I told my mother about the abuse and how I had been living. She was livid and took me and my uncle to go talk to Daddy and LaDonna. My mom hid a tape recorder so that in case we go to court, she would play it as evidence. LaDonna let it slip that she had read my Diary and that in an entry I had written that both LaDonna and Daddy were fat bastards who feel the need to lie in church and to tell me that I'm going to hell. My mother and uncle started yelling at her for disrespecting my privacy. LaDonna deflated like a balloon.

Father had told me that it would be best to live with Mama because I would never trust LaDonna again. I still don't trust her. My father and I got on a talking basis and I would visit him all the time. But it changed. The last time I talked to him was when I told him that I was a lesbian and that I had a girlfriend. He was so angry that I never saw him again. I then moved out of the state to get away from the memories and to get away from that little voice in the back of my head that keeps telling me that I'm a liar.

Now I'm 18, almost 19. I have just recently begun talking to my father over the phone. We have a good relationship now, but I don't know when I'll visit him again.

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