Dear Traitor

Section Fourteen

I do not believe you will ever open your eyes to see and understand how hard I was trying to please you and Portia. I felt like I was always walking on eggshells, making sure not to crack any. Because if I did, you would complain and shout in my face. I truly wished I remembered the specific reasons why I got into trouble every minute. I think it would really help to know, but I doubt you also remember anyways. Was I perfect? No. However, I was not necessarily a rebellious kid either. Somedays, I would enter into your house, promising myself I would do nothing to upset you. Yet, the only emotion you know is frustration. Your spirit is constantly troubled from past grudges, making it impossible to find any sort of happiness. I would do what I was told, pacify Portia, and not break any rules. I would break myself apart to keep us working. I would succeed.

At least, I thought I would get by.

No, something was always wrong. Nothing I did was ever right.

Once, Portia asked Hope to give her my dirty clothes.

"Did you wash the girl's clothes?" Portia asked you.

"No, I'm sorry, I did everything but that. I'm sorry," you said, the stress noticeable in your tone.

I would have thought you were begging for your life had I not known the context. You always seemed to beg a lot for Portia's forgiveness. It was like you also had to pacify her, similar to the way my mom had to pacify you.

That's when Portia sent Hope to collect my clothes. I stated that my clothes were not dirty and did not need to be washed. Hope repeated this to Portia, who sent Hope back to me a second time. I restated my previous statement. My clothes were clean, and I believed I was doing you a favor by giving you a smaller load to wash. I then heard Portia complain to you that I was refusing to hand over my clothes. You immediately rose from your chair without hesitation and abruptly stormed to my bedroom. You yelled at me that I was blatantly disobeying and forced me to hand over my clean clothes. I was not "refusing" to hand over my clothes out of disobedience. I politely stated to Hope that there was no need for washing them. Yet, somehow in everything I did, it was against you and Portia.

I handed my supposedly dirty clothes to Portia once I reached the laundry room.

"Do you want to wear dirty clothes?" she remarked, mockery in her tone.

I said nothing. I had no energy to play into her smart remarks and crude comments. I had no reason to be bullied by a 42 year old. I knew she wanted to get something out of me to then get me in trouble more. That's what her tactic always was.

I placed the "dirty" clothes in the hamper and walked out. She asked me the same question again. I simply looked down, trembling in fear.

"HELLO?!" she shouts, as if I was obligated to play into her game of picking at me.

I stop and turn around. I could feel the flames of fury burning around her, and one wrong word would mean the outburst of Portia. I was so still, and I could hardly breathe.

I weighed the two options in my head. If I said nothing, I would be punished for not answering an adult and being disrespectful. If I answered, I would be punished for talking back.

"CAN YOU TALK?" she yells at me, death staring me down as she throws her arms up in the air in frustration.

I think I made her angrier by not engaging.

"Yes ma'am," I replied, my voice soft yet shaky.

She loved seeing me scared, I believe. It gives her a sense of authority over me. She finally walked away into her room. I thought I was free until you stopped me in the dining room.

"Did you answer?" you asked.

"Yes sir," I said.

But why was I to answer to a question that clearly was meant to be a poke at me? It would have been different if she was asking me something nicely. Her only intention was to humiliate me.
It was clear in her passive aggressive tone, but I suppose you don't see that, do you Brutus?

I guess my attempt at pacifying Portia was not good enough, for you started on one of your long lectures again. It was the usual screaming session. You said I should have answered Portia in the first place and should talk to people in general. You said that if I am frozen, I should pull myself together and say something. I suppose that is easy for you to say. It doesn't work that way with anxiety. When you have anxiety, it holds you back. It squeezes your chest so tight that you question if your heart is even beating at all. It takes control of everything from your body to your tongue. I guess it's easier to deny I had anxiety than to recognize yourself as the reason I had it in the first place.

You then yelled at me saying I was the reason for your anger issues. I just stood there idly, my gaze casted anywhere but your eyes. I held my peace. I let you scream and shout at me as you pleased. I would allow your words to be bullets and me to be your target. It must have felt better to be furious with me than to admit you were the one who was ordered by Portia to wash my clothes in the first place.

By the end, you said "why can't you be a normal human being?". After this, you told me to "get lost". By this point, I was in tears. My intentions were good. How did I do wrong? If you would have explained NICELY that you wanted to wash them anyways, I would have handed them over. After all of this, you then claimed that my clean clothes needed to be washed anyways because Mama would complain that you did not wash my clothes. You also said that Mama would go and tell everyone that you have a dirty home. My mother has never said any of that. That is all you and your victim mentality. In fact, it's the other way around. You tell everyone my mom is filthy and lives in a dirty home. Also, there was absolutely no reason to be so aggressive over such a small thing. You just had to use force. The second you saw Portia's frustration was when you had no time to question anything. When Portia says go, you go. When she says jump, you do not even ask how high. You jump towards the stars. You will become a monster for her, and you did.

I am aware that being labeled as a monster is not the nicest thing to read. I can imagine you are furious by this point. I am sure you want to shred this book into a million pieces then watch it burn to ash. I know you rage. I know you get angry. I know it is easy to set you off. Go ahead. Throw this book across the room. Pace the room. Scream. Shout. Rant. Scream to the top of your lungs. Scream until your vision turns blurry. Scream until you cannot breathe. Slam all the doors you want, like you used to. Throw things across the room if you must. Lose your mind. Become even more insane. If I were there to witness the sight, I would laugh. Nothing is more humorous than watching a grown man lose himself to his own temper.

And oh- I know your favorite excuse.

"I have a temper because I was in the military and have PTSD."

First of all, you were hard to get along with before the military according to people who knew you at that time. Secondly, I had to deal with you, yet I do not have your temper. Newsflash, you are not in the military anymore. You cannot blame your faults on something else. Again, being traumatized does not give you the excuse to traumatize others. The abused does not have to become the abuser. Excuses does not make sin right. It is still sin. Trauma does not excuse judgment from God. Using your PTSD to justify you emotionally abusing me makes me pity you less.

Just because I was done wrong, doesn't mean I will then go lash out onto other people for it. Therefore, I did not obtain your temper. In fact, the only thing we share is a last name.

I am not invalidating the things you saw in war nor your PTSD, but I do not believe that is the reason for your forceful and narcissistic behavior. Besides, I am not sure if this is true or not, but everyone I have talked to says you were never even on the battle field.