My dad almost let me drown
So, back when I was growing up, I had a bunch of unsavory shite happen to me and ended up being placed in a foster home. Well, technically it was basically a holding cell for kids to live until they found a *real* home.
Because I was a hurt and untrusting kid at that point, I cycled through my fair share of families. I stayed with an obese single man who I don't remember much about, but I do remember very bad vibes while staying at his house. My case manager must've thought so too because I went to another family shortly after.
That is when I met the family, more specifically the SOB, that this story is about.
This wouldn't be my last home and I didn't live there long at all so things have gotten foggy over the years, but I was probably between 8-10 years old. It was a full house, 6 of us in total. My foster mother & father, two brothers and a sister.
The only person I did not like straight out of the gate was my sister. You know that feeling where you just *know* when someone wants you off the Earth. For me, it feels especially raw when it seems unjustified. Like, I know I was technically a foreign invader, a cancer cell, in their home, but guess what? I was a mouthy brat too and gave her the attitude right back. So, it goes without saying, she & I never got along.
My brothers on the other hand, I loved them! We did everything together. They made me feel completely a part of the family. Which is what made what they did to me so confusing...
So far, the only slightly unusual thing about this family was that they had an intercom system in their house. Mostly our mother would use it to tell us to go to sleep after hours.
A few months go by and summer rolls around. They had been pumping me up about swimming in the pool in the backyard for a while. The only thing was, because I didn't have a lot of normalcy, I didn't even remotely know how to swim and was terrified of open water.
On the day it happened, my brothers and I were all out by the pool. They also had a slide they used for the pool. It went straight into the deep end. Looking back, that entire afternoon looks so setup, like the family planned this or something, I swear...
They kept pressuring me to try the slide and that they would save me if I couldn't swim to the sides. I really wanted to be like them, free to do things without worrying about consequences and I really believed they wouldn't let me drown. We were family, right?
OK great, so I slide down the pool.
Seconds later, I start to drown. I don't know which way is up and I'm fighting for air, for something to grab. Anything. Well, it seemed like it went on for way too long and suddenly, my adoptive father has me *barely* above the water, holding me up with one hand. If, at gunpoint, I had to describe his face I'd say it was a demonic mix of lust and contempt.
It was really blurry and happened fast, but faces like that are hard to forget.
"I could let you drown right now **boy**"
That's what he said to me. Those exact words. I don't quite recall what he referred to me as before that point, but I know it wasn't "boy".
I was crying and gasping for air and he just held me there.
Holding me inches above the water. For what? I still don't get why...
This was one of 3 or 4 times in my life that I truly believed I was going to die. Could be worse I guess.
Anyways, eventually he walked over to the edge of the pool and let me go. Right then, I was so terrified of him. I didn't know what to do. I just laid there and didn't want to be near anyone in that house.
I remember one of the strangest things about that experience was the aftermath. We went to a Mexican restaurant that night and though they all acted like nothing happened, I was confused, angry and scared. Maybe it was insignificant to them? Maybe it was not an abnormal thing to them or he did it to teach me a lesson or something?
Well, anyways, fuck that and fuck that family. Soon after, I updated my case manager on the fuckery and I was out of that house within days.