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Don't You Love Your Children
I was never really a rich kid. I always lived in a small house, not many toys or clothes. At most I had an average family. When I was little, my dad was less than a loving father. When I was four and my brother was about ten months to a year old, he held my brother hostage in the bathroom. He was an alcoholic, and probably on some drug, but no one was ever sure. I always thought all the fighting and hitting was normal because no one ever talked about it. It always seemed like an Ok thing in my house.
My parents got divorced when I was seven. I thought it was the worst thing in the world, but I also saw it as a sort or relief. I did think it was a normal thing, but I was slowly realizing that there was something terribly wrong. When I would go to friend's houses, their parents weren't like mine. Their parents actually talked, and loved each other. My parents never talked, they never kissed, and they never did anything together. I may have only been seven, but when something's wrong, something's wrong.
The reasons why they got divorced could go on forever. 1) my mom was tired of being hit, and hurt all the time. 2) My mom didn't want me and my brother to be hit, and scared all the time. 3) He was a raging alcoholic. 4) She found out that he was having an affair. She found this out because she got a call from his new lover, saying that she should back off, and leave him alone. She also said that her children didn't know about him, and that she sneaks him in and out of the house.
When they were divorced, for a while I was still in the same house. After months of deliberating money, and visitation, and all other sorts of miscellaneous items, things turned upside down. My dad is a selfish person to say the least. It always had to be his way. He was never wrong, and if anyone said other wise, it was a knock to the head, and you were thrown to the ground. After the divorce, I became scared of him, really scared.
It was a year of two after they had split, and he was supposed to pick us up this one weekend. I was nine, and my brother was seven or eight, and when you are that young, ten o' clock is pretty damn late. He came from work to pick us up, drunk, and my mom wouldn't let him. He was screaming outside my house, and beating on the windows for forty-five minutes, wanting to take us. I was hiding under the covers, just praying for him to leave. Finally, one of the neighbors called 911, and he was taken to the police station.
My mother had to drop the charges because she had no money to pay for a lawyer, because she was as broke as could be. She had no job, and was in major debt, after hiring a lawyer for months to settle the divorce. We were getting minimal child support, and could only afford the bare minimum. So once again, my dad got away with it. I was so sick and tired of him getting his way all the time.
After that, we lost our house, because my dad wanted it in the divorce settlement. We had no where to go, so I had to live in the back room in my aunt's house with my mom and brother. We lived there for the summer, until we found a house we could rent a few towns over. I was lucky because I could still go to my catholic school, and stay with my friends. However, we could not afford the rent there, and we were evicted. We had to move to a new state, and into an apartment. I had to go to a new school, and start a whole new life.
I made some new friends, and adjusted really quickly. I still noticed that my friend's families were not the same as mine ever was. Again, my dad ruined my brief happiness two times this time.
My dad worked in the city, and worked on Saturdays. I was at his house with my step-mom, and my brother every Saturday. One day, I was invited to go to chuck e. cheese's with a friend. I asked him, and he said it was OK. After I come home, I was alone for about ten minutes, because he, my step-mom, and brother were at a church function. He comes home, again drunk. He walks over to me, and begins to scream at me. “YOU HAD NO PERMISSION TO GO THERE!!! WHY DID YOU GO, ANA? WHY?” he yelled in my face. I began to cry in fear a little. I could barely speak, and I was trebling, as he backed me into a corner. He yelled at me more and more, louder, and louder. He became so irate, that he did something I will never forget. He picked me up by my neck and smashed me against the wall. I was struggling to breath, and my face was turning blue. My step-mom just stood there and watched. I eventually wiggled my way to freedom. It was a cold night in January, and I was so scared, I ran outside, with no shoes or jacket, and ran up the street.
I found a quiet place in the woods, and called my mom. She picked me up, and I was still stricken with fear. She drove back down to his house, and went inside. I refused to go in because I thought he would attack me again. As I sat in the car, I began to hear yelling form the inside, and I could see them screaming at each other. I saw my mom rush out of his house, and dash into the car. She flew down the street, and back home. I didn't see him again for weeks.
Eventually, again things went back to ‘normal'. My mom was still out of a job, and still broke. We had very little food in the house, and we couldn't pay the bills as well as we could. On day, in august, August 1st to be exact, things went back down hill.
My mom asked my dad for some extra money to turn the electrify back on. I don't know what, but this threw him into a rage of fury. I thought all this fighting between my parents was done back when I was seven. Now it was a screaming match. He slapped my mom across the face, and hit her head so hard, the neighbors above us heard her head rattle. I was done with this. I just wanted it to stop.
I threw myself between my two parents, and began to bang on my dad's chest like a bongo drum. “Leave my mom alone! Leave my mom alone!” I repeated over and over. He finally pushed me out of the way and threw me into the ground, and said “who do you think you are? I can beat you any time I wanted” Then I heard the sirens blare, and the lights flash. The whole town's police cars were here, and they took him away in the back of a police car. That was the last image I ever saw of him, and I couldn't be happier.