Hi.

My story really starts when my parents got divorced, but honestly, it began long before that. Things started falling apart when my Nana died. That’s when my dad started showing who he really was. The yelling got worse. The anger got louder. He’d scream at my mom for hours over the smallest things, calling her worthless, pathetic, and a terrible mother.

Our house was always spotless. My mom made sure of that. My dad never lifted a finger. He’d just come home, start a fight, and make everything worse. After years of it, she finally left him.

That’s when he turned on me. He hated that I sided with my mom. He said I was too much like her, that she “brainwashed” me to hate him. But I didn’t need anyone to tell me what to think. I saw him try to kill her. I’ll never forget that.

The worst part wasn’t even the yelling or the fear. It was losing the person I thought he was. I was his first kid, his only daughter. We used to be so close. But after seeing what he did to my mom, I couldn’t look at him the same ever again.

The first time he seriously lost it with me was when he threw me at a wall.

It started over something so stupid. My little brothers thought it’d be funny to take my deodorant and smear it all over the bathroom. When my dad found out, instead of making them clean it, he told me to. I told him no, because that wasn’t fair. After about thirty minutes of arguing, he completely snapped.

He grabbed me by the arms, squeezing them tight against my body, and lifted me like I was nothing. He’s tall, so my feet didn’t even touch the stairs as he dragged me up. It hurt so bad his hands dug into my arms, and my heart was racing. Then he threw me down hard on the landing in front of my brothers’ room and started screaming at me. Saying I should’ve just cleaned it, that this was all my fault, that I made him do it.

I was eleven. Eleven years old.

Then he picked me up again, took me into my brothers’ room, and threw me on the floor. I got up and tried to fight back, but that only made him angrier. He grabbed me again and threw me against the wall between the bunk beds. I hit the bed when I fell. Everything hurt.

And then, like nothing happened, he sat down next to me and tried to hold me. He tried to act calm, like I was some baby he needed to comfort. He said he was sorry, but he was still mad still saying I was in the wrong, that I should’ve just listened. I couldn’t take it. I kicked him off me and ran.

My brothers were crying the whole time, screaming at him to stop. I still feel so bad for them. They were so young. They didn’t deserve to see any of that.

I ran downstairs and hid. My hands were shaking so bad. Then he called me for dinner, acting like nothing had happened. I said no, ran back upstairs, and locked myself in the bathroom. I sat there just hoping I could make it until my mom came to pick me up.

He kept walking around the house, calling my name, calling me a “little shit,” laughing like it was some kind of game. Every time he found me, he’d try to grab me or tell me to come eat, and I’d push him off. He’d get pissed, stomp away, and I’d just find a new place to hide.

I remember counting the minutes until my mom’s car finally pulled into the driveway. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so relieved in my life.

When my mom finally showed up, I didn’t even wait. I grabbed all my stuff as fast as I could, my hands shaking so bad I could barely hold anything, and I ran straight to her car. I just wanted to leave. I didn’t look back, I didn’t say goodbye, I just got in and slammed the door.

The second I sat down, everything came pouring out. I started talking so fast I could barely breathe. I told her everything. How he threw me. How he screamed at me. How my brothers were crying and begging him to stop. I told her we needed to call the cops because what else was I supposed to do. What else could I have done.

But there was nothing we could prove. No bruises. No marks. Nothing anyone could see. Just three kids stuck with the memories, stuck carrying what happened in that house forever.

I sat there shaking, trying to explain every little thing while she started driving. My words kept tripping over each other, my voice cracking, my chest tight. My mom just kept saying, “I know. I know.” and nodding, but I could tell she was scared too.

The whole ride home felt like forever. I kept talking because if I stopped, I knew I’d start crying again. I looked out the window the whole time, watching everything go by and wishing I could leave all of it behind. Him. That house. Everything.

Little did I know I wouldn’t be able to leave that stupid house for another three years. Stuck there. Trapped with every other awful thing he could think to do. The screaming. The hitting. The yelling. Every day felt like I was just waiting for the next explosion.

Later, at school, I told my counselor what had happened. I trusted her. I thought she would help me. But it turns out she was a friend of my dad’s, and I didn’t even know that at the time. When I told her, she didn’t report it. She just looked at me and said, “What do you want me to do about it?” I was going through something illegal. Something no kid should ever have to go through. No matter what I said, no matter how terrified I was, it was her job to help me. And she didn’t. She betrayed me.

The next major fight I had with my dad was over my phone. It was past nine at night, which is when I was supposed to turn it in at his house. I had just been texting my mom good night because I forgot to do it earlier. I was walking up the stairs to my room when I saw him sitting in the kitchen, and he started screaming at me. He was accusing me of talking to my friends. When I tried to tell him I was talking to my mom, he yelled even louder, calling me a liar and saying he couldn’t believe me.

That stupid fight turned into four hours of nonstop yelling. We argued about everything. I told him he was a terrible deadbeat. I told him he was an awful father and abusive. I told him everything I had gone through. And he just denied it all. He said everything I went through was a lie, that none of it had ever happened.

By two in the morning I was trying to run from the house. I tried more than once, but he kept chasing me, grabbing my arms, screaming, throwing things. I don’t exactly remember all of it. It was a long fight and my brain shut out quite a lot, but I know my mom showed up. It took me forever to convince my dad to let her call me. He would not let me leave the house under any circumstance. But I finally convinced him. When I finally got on the phone, I was making eye contact with my mom through the window. Eventually, I ended up getting out of the house and told her immediately to call the police.

The police came, and instead of asking me if I wanted to press charges, which I could have because he left a mark, they asked if I wanted my dad to go to jail. They asked me that while I was standing there with him looming over me. I said no. I was terrified. That is not fair. Nobody should have to answer that in front of their abuser.

After that, they just sent me inside and told me to go to bed. That I just needed to behave.

These are just a few of the things that happened. Now, back to present time.

After I was at my dad’s and I was sick, he started yelling at me because I was on my phone. I was laying in bed, feeling like crap, and he stormed into my room. Apparently, I was being too lazy because I wasn’t sleeping all day. I don’t know what else he wanted me to do. I couldn’t even keep food down. But no, I was just being lazy in his eyes.

He tried to take my phone away, and when he was storming out of my room, I screamed at him. I told him the reason I’d rather live at my mom’s is because she doesn’t dehumanize me when I’m sick. She treats me like an actual person, not some animal to be thrown around.

Instead of responding, he just stormed back downstairs and punched a hole in my door. Then he ran back upstairs like he’d won some damn prize. That was the last time I ever went to his house, five months ago.

My mom’s lawyer made a document saying that until the hearing happens, I’m with my mom full-time. But the hearing hasn’t happened. It hasn’t even been set up. So, since May, I haven’t been to my dad’s house.

He was supposed to set up therapy that was my driving point. I told him I’d be more willing to go back to his house if we worked on our issues in therapy. But he never set up anything. He didn’t make a move. Instead, he tried to recommend using his personal therapist, which was completely asinine. Why would I want to see your already biased therapist? So, I turned that down. Then, he tried to say he wanted to use mine, but that was just as dumb. I didn’t want him dragging his mess into my personal relationship with my therapist.

Now, I’m a choir student. I perform in four concerts a year. I also sing the national anthem at all of our varsity basketball games.

And get this. My dad, being a total psycho stalker, decided to email my choir teacher and ask about every single date! Every concert. Every game I would be singing at. I mean, what? Who even does that? Why would anyone need to know that? My choir teacher, knowing my situation, literally asked me, why in the world would he even want that information? She hadn’t even seen him.

Of course, my mom had to set up an appointment with the school right away. She needed permission from her lawyer to make sure he wasn’t allowed to have that information. We basically had to go to the school and explain, what is wrong with him? Why is he trying to spy on his own kid?

I just don’t get it. I really don’t. How is this even a thing? Who acts like this? Who thinks it is okay to do something so creepy? And this is just him! My dad is a psycho! He has no boundaries. No sense of what is normal. Nothing.

So yeah, that is pretty much everything that has happened as of now. I’m so glad I’m finally put, even if it is temporary. Me and my mom are very close now, and I’m very grateful for that. To be completely honest, this is not even close to everything, but it is the main gist. Anyways. Thanks for listening to my story. I’ll give more updates on the more recent stuff because there’s so much more to add to that last part, my dad really is crazy. Anyways. Thank’s folks.