Abused and Unloved~

Chapter Three

As my mom forcefully grips my hand I restrain myself from making noticeable noise or showing indicative emotions as much as I can. I don't want Kaylee to get suspicious.

She would do contortionist work to fit herself in the sink if it meant she could figure out what was going on and Kaylee learning that she has abusive parents would fiercely ruin and crush her world. It sure as hell ruined mine.

We walk conjointly to the car and once we get in and start driving, I knew immediately where we were headed. It's the same place my parents always took me before they started hating me, before the abuse.

When my mother Kaila was eighteen she got pregnant with me, she wasn't married but she had a boyfriend, Marcos Cortez.

My grandmother, whom I've never met, didn't help my mom. She was pissed that she was messing around at such a young age and didn't condone the pregnancy or a marriage.

My grandpa died when my mother was six so my mom was all my grandma had, but my grandmother was so enraged she kicked her out of their house.

After my mom left, they lost all connections.

That was markedly the first step into my mother's psychotic break.

My mom moved into a small two-bedroom apartment with my dad. They were happy, for a while. We were good. A cute average family, and we were stable.

My dad had a job and soon my mom joined him in the workforce while they both went to school. My dad did night school and my mom did day classes so I was always watched. I was loved.

As I grew into my terrible two's just like any other child, I became difficult. My father grew more and more frustrated with me and was on the verge of leaving, despite the wedding my parents were planning. I guess in hindsight I understand his point of view.

He was eighteen going to school, working, and having to take care of a bratty two-year-old. It would drive any person crazy, especially a young irresponsible teen. But still, I was his daughter, he should have grown up and learned to dealt with me. He should had stuck around indefinitely because things would have gotten better.

He was about to leave, but then I finally hit three. Things got easier, by age five I started going to school and even though public school is free I started eating more and asking for more things. I was only a child but we were at a point where we were almost broke.

What I didn't know or comprehend at the time was that my parents were extremely stressed, they hardly saw each other, and they were always busy trying to scrap up money while still managing to get an education. My mom had an affair and got pregnant, again. As if she hadn't learned the first time.

By age seven my dad was gone and I can truthfully tell you I don't even know if he's still alive or even in the same state as us.

My mom has never been one to accept responsibility for her actions. She immediately blamed me for making her life harder, for putting a wedge between her and her first love, for driving him away. It was all my fault in her eyes and she has hated me since. She had to drop out of college and she started working full time. I was left alone in the house regularly. Eight years old walking to and from school every morning, cooking my own meals, and tucking myself in at night.

Slowly my mom started making my life a living hell, all because she couldn't stop making simple mistakes.

My mom eventually married the man she had the affair with, Christian De- La Cruz. He was an abusive man, much older than she was, and he had been taking care of the baby they had together. My mom forced me to move in with him and he made us financially stable.