trauma || amber freeman

0

Warning: Self Harm + Child Abuse

It's started again. Obviously it would at some point. But I couldn't help wishing that for once my mother would forgive me for my father leaving. I wish she could realise that 6 year old me didn't know what I had done. I didn't even know if I had done anything to cause his absence in the first place. But that never stopped her from taking everything out on me, going out for drinks every Friday turned into drinking every single day by the time I turned 8. I had always tried to stop her from drinking too much but she would threaten me, scold me and if I tried to stop her after her warning me she would hit me. The worst thing she had done was smashing an empty bottle onto my head, smashing it into small shards.

Every day it was always the same routine, it was exhausting. I'd either walk to school or Mindy would drop me off. Then, i'd meet up with Tara before walking to lessons with each other. I had fairly good grades, I had too. Or that would be another reason for my mother to cause me pain, mentally or physically. Tara had been my best friend since we were kids as we used to be neighbours before she moved house. Her sister even babysat me for a while when my mother decided to take off and leave me alone in the house for hours or even days, after my dad left. She has always blamed me for him leaving but I was only 6, I hadn't done anything. When I walked home, sometimes my mom would make me meet up with drug dealers to get her weed or alcohol. If I didn't do it it would be a worse outcome than if i just took the substances back to her.

After a while I started following in her steps, I guess. I started smoking and drinking, the inevitable high drowned out the mental and physical pain that she caused. I quickly found a love for music; if she was screaming at me I would lock my room and put music on full blast in my headphones, it quieted the yelling and gave me something else to focus on.

When my mum first found out about the lock that I had installed in my room for privacy , she freaked out, screaming at me that she would take my door off of it's hinges if I ever locked it but I retaliated and threatened to call the police on her to report everything she had done if she did so.

My father used to be close with Tatum Riley before the first ghost face massacre's started and so we still remained close with her family after she passed away and so i knew that Dewey  Riley (who I grew close too before my father left) could send my mother away for a long time if I spoke up about anything she was doing to me. I had options, i just didn't want to put them in place. I didn't like change.

That was the only thing that stopped my mother from taking the entirety of my door down. Then, she turned to use other methods on me. I was 11 when she got so angry that she started throwing things at me. One time, she got caught up in her emotions and slammed me into a wall before remembering that i had Dewey wrapped around my finger and ended up releasing the hold on my shoulders. She didn't leave without an overly dramatic exit though, she went up to the mirror in my bathroom and smashed it to pieces before leaving me to clean up the mess she had made.

That was where and when everything started, in my bathroom, with shards of glass on the floor that i frantically tried to collect up but failed to due to my hands still shaking from my mothers unexpected physical aggression. I had nothing to clean it up with so eventually I started picking up the big pieces and placing them in my bin with my bare hands. Tears were running down my face and my vision kept blurring in and out as I tried not to break down about what had just happened, my throat burned as if it was on fire and my guts felt as if someone reached in and pulled them down into the bottom of my stomach, starting to twist every organ of my insides. I couldn't concentrate hard on what I was doing and before long, one of the shards had cut down the side of my hand due to how badly my body was processing it all.

I quickly rushed into my room, pulling up the loose floorboard besides my bed that contained my medical kit that I kept after the time she smashed a glass bottle at my head. I grabbed the small box and brung it into the bathroom with me.