After my mother kicked me out, I vowed to never live with her again.
But for now, according to my dad, I had to wait out the custody agreement.
So for me she served one purpose: ATM.
Unless I was getting something from her, I was not interested.
This summer, my brother was going to a prestigious football camp, and the registration deadline approached.
The week previous, my mother had a hysterectomy. She was still in a lot of pain, but my brother needed his vaccination records.
She couldn't find them, and it meant that she'd have to get a copy from the doctors, which put the deadline in jeopardy. So they ended up yelling at each other.
And Rick snapped.
He hauled off and punched my Brother in the face.
My mother started screaming, but Rick kept winding up.
He never hit him back, my brother.
He just kept pushing Rick away while blood poured down his face.
I ran for the phone and dialed 911.
"They won't stop fighting." I told the operator.
I hung up, and my mother and Rick screamed at me.
"You didn't have permission to use the phone!"
When they arrived, the police took me aside. They asked who called, and I told them it was me because Rick wouldn't stop hitting my brother.
They asked me if this had happened before, and I stared up at these men in uniform.
I thought about the time when Rick broke his arm. If I told them about it, I'd be in more trouble with my mother.
So I said, "No."
Rick sat in the back of the squad car. My mother sobbing over him.
The officer told her that she could take us to our Dad's or Rick had to go somewhere else for the night.
For the half-hour drive, my Mother screamed at me for calling the police.
YOU ARE READING
What My Mother Forgot
Non-FictionBefore reading this, you should know... This is not a happy story. There is no happy ending. Simply put, this is a chronological account of the abuse, neglect, and bullying I suffered at the hands of loved ones from birth to 17 years old. It does no...
