We hate Parents

1. Childhood

TW: This Chapter contains Child abuse and mention of death/murder.

"HOW CAN YOU EVEN BE SO DUMB?! I WAS NEVER THAT BAD IN SCHOOL!".

I was crying hysterically, hyperventilating even while my mom and my dad yelled at me because I again brought home a bad grade.

"You can't be serious. STOP CRYING! Or do I need to slap you?!", my father yelled, towering over me.

His face was red with anger. He lifted his right hand, threateningly which made me panic even more, nearly choking on the air that's trying to get through my dry mouth, into my lungs.

My mother was standing a few feet away looking at me with sheer disappointment.

I was sitting on one of the chairs in front of our dining table.

I was shaking, sobbing hysterically. I was so scared. I just wanted it to stop.

I feel the bruises from yesterday morning where my mother had harshly grabbed me by my wrist and threw me out of the house onto the street.

I fell onto my knees, right onto the little stones and scratched my knees open.

They still hurt, but my wrist hurts even more. I can barely move my hand. It's already getting blue.

"LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU!", my father screamed into my face before he yanked the back of the chair back and threw it to the ground with me on top of it. I hit my head on the hard wooden floor and I let out a sharp breath of pain.

Before I even realized that he had just thrown me to the floor he slapped me, hard.

I winced and nearly started scream-crying.

"SHUT UP! I should be the one crying of having such an embarrassment of a daughter!", my mother yelled from the side before she stormed out of the living room.

Another slap.

I placed my hand onto my burning cheek and felt it getting hot.

My father stormed out into the garden.

I sniffled and took a few deep and shaky breaths. I tried so hard to calm myself down but I was way too scared and full of panic.

I knew what was gonna happen next. It's always the same.

I got yanked to my feet and I yelped, panic rising once again.

My mother pulled me into the garden where my father was standing at our small Garden shed, with the door wide open.

I struggled against my mothers grip on my wrists before she grabbed me by my hair and I screamed in pain. Crying harder again. I was breathing hysterically.

My father pushed me into the shed and closed the door and locked it.

I couldn't stop crying. I sat on the floor for hours, crying my eyes out until I fell asleep due to exhaustion.

"Happy birthday to my sweet girl!", Bill said as I ran up to him, jumping into his arms.

"You are getting so old so fast!", He said with a chuckle.

"But I'm only twelve", I pulled away, giggling.

"I know but I still can't believe it.", he smiled at me brushing my hair behind my ear.

I smiled and threw my arms around his neck again.

"JANET-REBECCA!", I heard my Father yell and I shrieked away from Bill and turned around in panic.

I saw my parents marching towards me. Angry faces as always.

I started crying and hysterically turned around to hide behind Bill but he was gone.

I panicked. I screamed out of fear and started running before I got pulled back by my hair. I fell onto the back of my head and now I was laying on the chair again, looking up at my father who's hand was fastly making its way towards my face.

I jumped up. It was dark outside. I was still in the Shed. I touched my face, realizing I cried.

I deeply breathed in, calming myself down.

It was just a dream..., I thought and finally calmed my nerves.

It has been 3 years since that scene with the chair happened and it has been a few months since I had dreamed of it the last time.

I was sitting in the middle of the old shed.

The wind was wildly blowing on the outside.

I haven't slept in my bed for 4 months and I don't even know why.

I felt tears run down my face again.

I am 15 years old now and nothing has changed. It actually keeps getting worse.

At 12 years old my father slapped me sometimes but now he even punches me.

I sometimes don't even get anything to eat. I sit in here for most of the day. Being bored but also a little happy because as long as I am in this Shed, my parents leave me alone.

As soon as they let me out I always have to fear doing something wrong and being yelled at, belittled and punched again.

This little old Shed was my so-called: Safe place.

I started to like it here. As a little kid I was always so scared to be in here. Especially at night because I was scared of insects and potential monsters in the shadows.

The summers were extremely hot and the winters extremely cold but I still liked it in here.

I laid down and closed my eyes, stretching my arms out to my sides, relaxing my body.

My Safe Place...

************************************

On the 20th of July 1962 my Parents were both shot during a bank robbery.

I was 15 at that moment. Again locked into the Shed.

I heard voices and the house bell ring.

I am here..., I thought.

I wasn't sure if they would even hear me but I screamed:"I AM IN HERE! PLEASE LET ME OUT!"

The voices stopped and I yelled again:"PLEASE. BACK HERE!!"

I shortly after heard footsteps and the door lock open.

The door slowly opened and I looked into the confused eyes of two Police officers.

"Uhm. What are you doing in here?", he asked with a concerned tone.

"My parents locked me in here...", I whispered. Scared of any bad reaction.

The police officers had a shocked expression on their faces while I got to my feet.

"Well.. we are very sorry to tell you that your parents got shot. There was a bank robbery and they shot everyone in the bank.", the older one told me and my eyes got wide.

"They- They are dead...?", I whispered.

"Yes. I am very sorry..", the older one said.

I looked at the ground.

Oh my god... I am free... Finally. They are gone. Forever. They will never hurt me again..

I started crying but now out of sorrow as the police officers thought but out of relief.

They guided me to the police car and we got in.

My Uncle, Bill, was waiting there to take me with him.

From now on I was safe. No abuse. No fear. Nothing.

It took me one whole year to stop apologizing for everything I did and to stop wincing every time when Nancy or Bill lifted their hands in any way.

I told them what my parents did after 6 months living with them and they were both shocked to the bone.

I am nearly 17 now and living the best life I have ever lived.