as a lil girl, my biological father was not present in my life or upbringing...my mother had a man in her life, who is my lil brother's father, he was what most would consider a "stepfather"...as a child i was told to to never compare him to my father because he "wasn't that nigga" snd he took care of his type shit. i've always felt as though my mother never really understood me or tried to and she resented me because of who MY dad was and because of who she didn't quite understand yet, but my granny and my god-mother always tried to make me understand that i was her first born, her baby, i was loved unconditionally and i always would be, but it's so hard to believe things that everyone else can share about you, that your own mother had never said to you when you needed it or wanted it. long story short because i've already began crying, i have always had my own notions of disciplinary actions and abuse. Curtis, my brother's dad started beating me and calling it punishment when i was in the 2nd or 3rd grade. my mother's relationships were not something i too much cared to get into depth about but i never appreciated his words, his quick temper, and bitterness, i also had never really used the word evil, until i grew to know what it was and what evil felt like. i went to elementary school on a big ass hill and lived directly down the hill from it, one day i remember being told to wait for my "stepfather" after school to get a ride home. i waited...an hour had gone by...that hour then turned into an hour an 15 minutes. it began getting dark and i just wanted to be home, and i decided to walk home with no sign of Curtis anywhere. upon arrival realizing the whole reason for getting a ride was because i'd lost my keys and he had a spare..i proceeded to wait on our porch for another 15 minutes, when he pulled up. outraged by the fact i had walked home, my mom oftentimes worked later hours when i was younger so she wasn't home yet. normally my lil brother would be with his dad but not this day. there was so much yelling and anger inside him all from me going home...he told me to stay in my room until he said otherwise, i remember him taking a shower before he came into my room and i had not even washed my ass or eaten since we'd been home. he came in shouting at me telling how i should've stayed where i was and began swinging the buckle part of the belt at the lower half of my body. i screamed for a mother who would never get word of what happened that day, for almost a week...she hadn't asked, i assumed that whatever he told her was far more important. i was beaten for a number of things that he didn't care for until i was 16 years old. my 16th birthday we'd gone out to dinner, under the impression that it was for me, in honor of me type shit but things have never really worked for me, or in my favor when it came to ME...(ain't that some shit). selfishly he tried to propose to my mother and still til this day will never understand why she took the ring that night but she never answered him...not too long after that my mother was in an almost fatal car crash in the midst of this all still without an answer from my mom, and a close male family friend telling my mother how he felt about her coming to see her in the hospital damn near everyday, and me dealing with the fact that then it felt like i didn't have my mom in more ways than one... Curtis was and is an extremely confused and angry fucking man, with extremely jealous ways, and insecurities out the ass. while my mom laid in a hospital bed for numerous weeks, i believe he was in his feelings about a lot. he found himself snooping thru my mother's shit and found a letter, a few cards and other shit from her current non-psychopathic, boyfriend expressing his undying love for her basically...anyway Curt took all of my mom's clothes out her closet placed them in my tub pouring bleach and wine, amongst other shit all over them. this included shoes and memoirs she's had since before her high school days...he put sugar in her car tank, broke her headboard, and slashed our couches. a restraining order was then filed.. now writing my emotions or how i felt/feel has always been my go to, it was my safe haven. rewinding back to me at age 14, i'd written about Curtis plenty of times and what i thought of him truly...and for whatever reason he found himself in my room, in one of my journals, he forced me to read my passages aloud while my mother sat there in the same room as this man violated my privacy, my space and trust...she did nothing. after reading them himself he removed my door from the hinges, broken my bed from the slats to the mattress being slashed, my mirror was broken and in pieces all over my floor, along with other passages ripped to shreds, clothes from my closet all hung now laid on the floor with debris from a madman literally, he even went as far as pouring water all over the floor. i stood in my doorway crying so hard trying to figure out if i deserved it, like if my words about him had hurt him so much to where i deserved everything...i remember her saying not one word until i began screaming her name and wishing my granny or god-mom were there. he beat me like i was a man off the street, he punched me in my face and everywhere else, kicked me in my ribs until i began to gasp for air, got on top of me and slammed my head into the floor repeatedly until my hair and my braids were ripped out. eventually my mom stepped in and pulled him off, but before she did in the midst of my yelling i shouted out that "my granny would never let you or anyone treat me like this and that i wasn't his child"...i guess that did her for her. even after he'd beaten me in front of her and humiliated me i never heard her sorry, i never expected him to say it so that never bothered me much (let me tell it), even after CPS being called multiple times because i couldn't walk or function without flipping the fuck out or being in too much pain at school, even after she knew that he was "punishing" me without them having a discussion, she still stayed... tables turn quick when you're the one being violated...so maybe that's why she stayed and let him stay because she wasn't the one and it was just me so it couldn't have been that bad right? i was still breathing and what happened at home is supposed to stay at home and it did until it effected me emotionally, mentally, and physically...it stayed home unless it effected mama directly i guess...i'm fucked up man, almost 21 years old and still crying over stuff the therapist in my mom/daughter sessions that moms would never show up to said would heal with time. how much longer???
