I remember it like yesterday. It still haunts my dreams... the sounds. I’m talking about the day that started it all. It was the night before my first day of middle school. I was going to be a big 7th grader. I had my outfit picked out and was laying down to sleep. My parents had already been fighting that night. Which was nothing out of the norm for them. Then I heard it. The scream that came from my mom. I ran halfway down the stairs and looked into our living room, I saw my dad. On top of my mom and his hands wrapped tightly around her neck. “HELP!” screamed my mom. Seeing him get physical with her was nothing new either.. he always got physical.
“Get off of her. I'm calling the police!” Man, I was so afraid when I said that. I got my sister, and put her in my room. My mom got my dad off and came in my room just has I hit 911. She took the phone from me and told them what happened. The police showed up to my house, now 11:00 pm, school at 7:00 am. They
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Although he apologized and moved back in, I couldn't even look at him. By the time Christmas came around my mom suggested family counseling which her suggestion was really her saying we be forced to go whether we liked it or not. It helped- or so I thought. But the fighting continued, it was on a much smaller scale but I always felt like it was my fault. My dad hated me for getting him put in jail and having his little girl taken away from him. No, i'm not the little one he was sad about, yes it was my little sister. He would give me this look of hatred, eventually it got to a point, that I couldn't stop feeling like that... It was April. I sat on my bedroom floor crying my eyes out... It was a rough day at school when someone told me to kill myself, and others telling me I didn't need to eat lunch. The looks from my dad... It all became too much. So that was the first time I had ever self harmed. I remember it like i'm watching it in a