I dont go crazy, I am crazy and I just go normal from time to time.

entry 9: rant

I wonder what you think gives you the right to lord over everybody? What, so you think you're a man? No you're a child! There is a difference between running a tight ship and ruling by fear. Before somebody tries to call me out, I lived with one of these over grown little boys for about 3 years. It felt like a life time and I know that I got away from him way before most people do.
I was 7 years old when I moved to Iuka Mississippi. I was a happy little blond headed girl. Back then I didn't know how cruel and hateful a person could be. I loved my mother and I never wanted to be away from her. But it wasn't long until he entered the picture.
Being a little kid, I was pretty much indifferent to him and his mustang. I didn't care, I did my own thing even then. It took maybe 3 months for the car to dissapeared and for me to notice that something had changed with mama and him. I just went about my merry little way though, it didn't affect me. At first.
Then he became violent. He became the monster in my nightmares. The fuel to my terrors. I wouldn't sleep alone because I was afraid that if I didn't have papaw, he was living with us at the moment, protecting me, then he would hurt me like he did with my mom. At first I tried to stick close to mom but then I realized that she wasn't around much and I often found myself alone with papaw and Drew, my little sister.
Another reason I didn't hang around mama that much was because since Drew was born, she didn't seem to have any time for me any more. I hated Drew when I was smaller because mama never even talked to me unless she was yelling at me or whipping me, so I did with the next best thing, I stayed attached to my Papaw's hip. I didn't leave his side except to go to to school. I went to sleep early like papaw because I didn't want to be alone with my mom and him.
Right after Shawn was born, mama and he bought a house, or rather commandeered it from his brother, whom I actually liked, he was nice to me. Naturally mama wanted me to go with her, I was only 8, I could cry and beg all I wanted but I would still be drug along to that house. I shared a room with Drew while mama and he slept in the master and Shawn slept in a crib in the living room.
Every night there was hell. When I would hear screams of pain and loud crashes, I would hide, pray he didn't find me, pray that he'd be to stoned to even know I was there. Every night there was something new for them to fight about. They would scream and yell at each other and usually the fight would end with either something broken and/or a new bruise on my mom while she cried herself to sleep.
It took 3 tries to get out of there. A year! I talked to anybody who would hear me and often got beaten when my mother or he found out, just depending on who was home. I was talked to like I was a dog and beaten like one too, but never where anybody could see the bruises. I never talked, or screamed, or came out of my room, when I had to live there with them and eventually not even papaw could help me. He sat dying in a hospital of leuchemia. I didn't know he had cancer until he died in '08.
In addition to being a human punching bag, I also had to take care of my little brother, Shawn. James would whip him for the stupidest things so I had to either get in the way and get hit myself or comfort him after the beating was done. Sometimes I would be asleep and Shawn would escape from his bed in mama's room and come sleep in the bed between me and Drew.
The first and second times I got DCS to listen they put me and Drew and Shawn with meme. This only lasted one night. I got yelled at the next day. They must not have really believed me but wanted to do something so I'd shut up. But the third time, my mother was covered in bruises and had a broken rib, Shawn had bruises all over him and I was practically a mute. Police found drugs on both mama and him and in their car.
I thought we were home free when Meme told me that she was going to adopt me, Drew's dad would be given full custody of her and Shawn would be adopted by his aunt Annette, on his dad's side. I was happy. I was elated that I was out of there.
Instead, I was devastated. In the same month, papaw died in Chicago, and Shawn's aunt cut him off from the rest of the family as soon as the adoption papers were threw. She couldn't have kids so she wanted to play "mommy" and make him grow up thinking that she was his mother.
It's been about 8 years since I've seen my little brother. In that time, mama has completely cut her own son out of her life as if he never existed. I guess the guilt and the pain is too much for her. She won't even say his name. It's been so long that I'm starting collage in about 2 weeks.
And guess what... She's still with that enormous ass hole. I guess she thinks that she can't have any better than him. Maybe she thinks she deserves him for abandoning her first child for drugs. For letting him any where near her children. For letting him physically and verbally abuse me and Shawn.

I think she deserves him.