A Memory | Teen Ink

A Memory

October 12, 2018
By Anonymous

It’s hard to remember the pieces of my childhood that aren’t tainted with pain. I don’t remember most of my childhood at all really, at least not without deep digging into my brain. I’ve blocked out what I can if I’m  honest. However there are days when it all just completely washes over me and I lose myself in it. One memory that often pops to the surface is of me being unenrolled from school in the 8th grade - prior to this I had Been isolated in every way possible. I was never allowed over anyone’s house or birthday parties. I wasnt allowed to try out for sports or go to school dances. Instead my mother preferred to keep me locked in my basement bedroom. The day she unenrolled me from 8th grade my world collapsed. I felt as if I was just sentenced to life in jail. I would be completely isolated and at my mothers mercy. I thought about this as I gathered my things with my mother screeching threats in my ear.

 

My friends watched in confusion- My mother was telling me that I had not been on the bus that I had just stepped off of not 3 minutes ago. She was somehow so sure of my location that it didn’t matter what I or 10 kids had to say. My dear mother was convinced that I had gotten a ride to school and this act was so heinous to her that I needed to be unenrolled for being out of control. I’m not going to lie thinking back on this I get so angry. After she has unenrolled me and we walk out of the school she looks at me and smiles ‘I’m going to f*** you up.’ I dont remember deciding to yell but I do remember hearing myself yell ‘I  Hate you.’ I remember we both stared at each other in shock for a solid 10 seconds. I never lose control. I never lose my cool. At least not until that moment. I walked away from her and the car and through my things on the ground. At this point I knew my life was over. So I let her have it 14 years of being abused had left me with a lot of rage building on the inside. I think this was just my breaking point; I would have no one to talk to, look at, or relate to other than her. My abuser was becoming every aspect of my life; consuming me and I would have no say in it. I was literally going to go crazy. Security for the school eventually came to deal with the noise being made by my mother and I. He was an idiot. Nothing I said mattered to him and as my mother later said he let her ‘play’ him. I think I’m almost as mad at him as I am at my mother; because I told him ‘she is going to kill me.’ And he completely disregarded what I said.

 

Eventually he calmed me down and somehow got me to get into the car with my mother. The ride home was long, made longer by the fact that she was on the phone with my stepdad describing to him what she was going to do to me and laughing. Intentionally trying to making me more afraid I suppose. So it shouldn’t have come as any surprise when I tried to escape; unfortunately barely 14 year old me wasn’t bigger or stronger than an overweight 30 something year old woman. My mother caught me as I tried to run, grabbing me by the back of my hair and throwing me on the concrete floor in the garage and jumping on my back  she hit my head against the concrete over and over and over, for what seemed like an endless amount of time. There were times during this where I felt Incredibly ‘sleepy’ but refused to pass out. It’s hard for me to remember immediately after this I know my face was swollen and my nose was bloody and she said something along the lines of ‘do you think I give a f*** about blood’ I didnt cry Through any of this. My pain tolerance was incredible after all these years, no I finally started crying when I heard her pull her sweatpants down and felt her start to pee on me. I was mad at myself for giving in and crying but at the same time I felt so utterly defeated. I really was worthless. I didnt really care what more she did to me at this point. 


The author's comments:

Well, I was severely abused for the majority of my life. I’ve actually only been rid of my mother for about 9 months now. Reading and writing helped me through the painful parts of my life and helps me cope on bad days now. 


Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.