I don't remember when it started. Probably around the time that my dad left. I think she blames me, my mom that is. But she got angry and hit me, a lot. Afterward I would go to my room and cry, feeling sorry for myself, contemplating suicide. I never did try it kill myself. I thought it would get better.
I was around 11 when my brother was born. Brian. I loved him. So did my mother. She Said I would infect him with my "filth" and make him leave too. Whenever I got the chance I played with him. He thought my bruises were normal. He made life worth living for me.
Now I know you all are thinking but Jamie why didn't you leave? (Yes that's you) then I say well I can't leave my brother. What if mom hates him too? I can't do that to him. I just can't.
But I can't stay in my hellish life either. A choice needs to be made. I have to choice.
So sorry it's so short. It's more of backstory right now. It will get interesting soon.🙃
