My father never wanted me. Really. I can't remember a time that he hugged me or told me that he loved me. There aren't very many pictures of me as a child, except for professional pictures that my sister & I always did together.
The first time he slapped me, I was 5, and had just been told my grandfather died and that I couldn't get the strawberries that my babysitter had taken me to the store for. I didn't understa death. I wanted my strawberries! I cried. When he strapped me into my car seat, he slapped me so hard I still had fingerprints on my face for the funeral.
When I was around 10, I started getting a nightly spanking for "The things I had done during the day that I didn't get caught doing". (His words, not mine.)
On my 13th birthday, my present from him was him telling me that he begged my mom to abort me and that he still wishes that she would have. Great birthday, I tell ya!
He started beating me with a 2X4 soon after. My mother made him take me to the storage shed to beat me so she wouldn't have to hear my screams.
To be continued.....
No comments:
Post a Comment