Beaten, Betrayed, Violated.

14 going on 20

Around the time I was 14, I had a full figure, and I wasn't allowed to wear anything even remotely cute, because my father was afraid that someone would find me attractive, and sully my innocence.
Honestly, there wasn't much innocence left. Yes, I was a Virgin. Yes, I hadn't a single clue about boys. But I smoked weed damn near every night, and I bribed my step mom into buying me a bottle of vodka every Friday.
It was the only way I could cope with everything.
Imagine that you're not allowed to make ANY decisions.
They decide how many squares of toilet paper you get, how many meals you're allowed to have, how many glasses of water you're allowed to drink before they decide "you're making excuses to come out of your room".
They would  decide what I was allowed to wear, and even what classes I was allowed to take, because God forbid that I take a class that I might enjoy.
I, to this day, still don't know what I find fun. I never really got a childhood, because starting at age 9, before I could even reach the sink properly, had to start cooking, cleaning, becoming mommy. My stepmother had two children around the time I was 14, one after the other. I loved those boys. But she decided that she needed to go to work, and my father needed to stay home to "monitor" me. So they pulled me out of school in 9th grade, and began to make me "home school" myself. I wasn't even allowed to do it the way it was intended. Instead of sitting down and doing my work, I had to slave all day, and if I didn't find time to do my school, I would again receive a beating.

This is pretty much how my day would go.

Wake up.
Take the dogs out.
Feed the dogs.
Wake the kids up, the two older ones went to school, the two younger ones stayed with me.
And if I woke my parents up, there was hell to pay.
Sometimes the dogs would run away, and I had to somehow track them down, get the kids to school, and keep an eye on a toddler and a crawler.
I was exhausted all the time. Not only that, but I was angry, and depressed. The only thing I was allowed to do without asking was work out on my back porch. So that's what I started doing. I began shadow boxing, practicing self defense lessons, and lifting weights. It worked as an outlet, because no matter how angry I was, my father was 350 pounds of obesity covered muscle. Meaning, I couldn't fight back because my father terrified me.
He would tell me: "I brought you into this world, and I can take you out. No matter how much you struggle and scream, there's always a stretch of woods where no one can hear you."
He has said many of those types of things, even while he was choking me until my face was purple, and I had to wear makeup for weeks.
Now you must be wondering why a case was never opened.
I tried. Many times. But my father had friends who would make it go away, as long as  I kept my mouth shut. My parents assured my silence, by telling me something awful.
"If you get these kids taken from us, we will go to prison. And when we get out, we will find you, and kill you."
This is terrifying to hear, especially knowing that your father has a manslaughter charge, schizophrenia, and your step mother is a psycho fucking bitch. I didn't feel safe. I felt like no one could help me. I wish this was a story where the girl got help, everything was fine, and she worked through her scars. But that's not the kind of story this is.
Its my story.
And my story is fucked up.
And it just keeps getting more fucked up.