Bad Medicine

Written August 11, 2009

“You’re a sneaky little bitch”, “You’re a cunt just like your mother” and “You’re the biggest dumbass I’ve ever known.” Even “You’re the devil”. These words echo in my head every day of my life, with the voice of a woman who was the beginning of my newly-screwed-over life. Of course my “dad” had to marry some evil, bitchy gold digger. For what reason? Sex? I don’t know. I stayed quiet about it for years but one day in the ending of 2007, I finally found my voice. I know…. very dramatic.

            There came a day that these “people” found out I had pulled out a knife on two guys on the bus in self defense. Of course, I was yelled at for about 2 hours, not allowed to move or anything. Only allowed to reply “Yes, sir” or “No, sir” to the occasional question. Then all of a sudden this “dad” grasped my hair near the back of my neck. I could feel my feet lift off the ground and then felt the air rush past me as I was hurled straight into a chair. Luckily, the only thing close by was a belt. Full swings whipped the belt at me. With each blow, I got more and more dizzy. I let out a gasp as I feel the belt strike an open, bleeding wound on my lower back. Someone was saying something, but it all seemed muffled. I assume it’s that bitch cheering. The entire time it was like I was mentally absent. I didn’t feel the pain and I could see everything happening. Then as suddenly as it had begun, it just stopped. I was told to stand up. The pain finally hit and I struggled to ignore the pain. Acting like I was hurt would gain me a few more blows, few meaning about twenty more.

            Beatings like this would occur daily, most of the time for no reason whatsoever. Other times it was for extremely pointless events like “making too much noise washing dishes” which they also called the cops on me for. I’ll never understand the reason why someone would make their own “child” a slave to them. I was never able to grasp how to treat anyone like a piece of shit.

            Afterwards, I reported this incident to my school counselor, Vanessa Geddes. Cops came and asked to inspect my injuries but I said I’d prefer if a doctor did it. I honestly did not want five police officers to be looking at my naked ass. They drove me to a doctor, where I shamefully stripped and had pictures taken of my battered, abused body. This memory is one of the clearest I have. I will never get over it until I know WHY my own “father” would treat me like a slave, kick me out, and make sure I inherit nothing. For all he did, the courts excused this case because “the good outweighed the bad” which basically meant that since he served in the military for 20 years, he escaped any consequences for child abuse, harassment, terroristic threatening, slavery, and negligence for 3 years. Regardless, my past experiences have given me a more ambitious attitude. My dream is to be better than he was. And to one day find the strength to pick up the phone just to thank him and say, “FUCK YOU!”

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