The beginning of the end

All I've ever known is how to handle bad situations. I had it all ; the fighting parents, the abusive dad, the blinded stepmom, all the way down to the ignorant mother who payed no attention to what we fought everyday. You'd think she would know after the eleven years she dealt with him, right?

I was always close to my mom, movies every night, kicking my brothers out of the room, snacks, hair & makeup, etc. but it never made sense. Why would she not think he was the same man he was with her. The same man who drug her down the stairs.

How could she be so blinded by her own "moving on" that she didn't see the signs, the bruises. I remember it all so clearly that it still brings a single tear to my eye. I still hear the voice of the man that was supposed to show me the way. I still see the way he looked at us with his belt tightly bound to his hand as he reached back and swung ,the air whistled through our ears, the terror in our ears as we watched our siblings beaten black and blue.

You must be thinking, "how could someone do these things to their own children?" well the short answer is, I have no idea. It's a mystery that I'd rather not know the answer to.

I was just twelve years old when I had my first encounter with a perverted "man" trying to do things he shouldn't to someone he shouldn't. He was so close to me I could feel it. I didn't know what to do so I screamed for Sam to come but they were both my brothers so who would've thought that one would hold me down while the other ignored my screams. when I came home to my mom so bruised at the ribs I couldn't walk. "What the hell happened to you?" Is what she said thinking my brothers had something to do with it until they showed their own wounds as well. We begged not to go back. "Please don't make us go back!" We promised anything and everything to never see him again. We would do our chores, clean our rooms, never watch tv again, whatever it took for her to believe us, and she did.