I go to school every day, I act like a normal teenager, and
I act like I’m always happy. A lot of the time I am, though other times I’m
just wearing a mask. Very few people actually know what my mask is like, but
those who do, know better than to try and talk to me about it with a lot of
other people around, for fear of me either getting really angry, or breaking
down and crying. Even fewer people knew what happened to me. My grandparents
still know less than one or two of my friends. I don’t completely feel I can
talk to them and tell them quite everything.
everything has been falling apart. There have been more glimpses of my life
before, I have begun to see more than I want to remember, and after telling my
mother about this, I’ve learned more than I wanted to know. I learned that my
brother had been hurt by this man as well. Once I was told this I burst out
into tears. I yelled at myself for being so dumb as to not tell anyone. Though
I had my reasons.
I was always
so scared of getting in trouble, getting in trouble meant that I got yelled at,
and even hit… that bastard. He used my weakness, he told me that if I didn’t do
what he wanted me to he would tell my mom that I did something bad... and if I
told my mother to begin with she wouldn’t have believed me. She wouldn’t have
cared for all I knew when I was younger. Now I’m just scared for my kids, they’re
actually not really mine, they’re my siblings. Though they may as well have
been mine. I’ve always told myself it only takes getting knocked up to be a
mother, but a lot more to be a mom.
was my biological dad during all of this?’ you may wonder. I’d have no idea
most of the time. He left when I was two; all I knew during the regular year
was that he was somewhere down in Texas. My mother used to have to pay him to
take me for even a day. I used to go down to see him during the summers. I
don’t anymore, I’ve learned better now. He’s a drunk, he’s and alcoholic, he
refuses to admit it.