Life Story

My Name is bella

I was born on March 5th.
I was really small, and only weighed 5.2lbs.
My parents were both together at the time.
But at only 3 months old, my dad kicked me and my mom out onto the street.
My parents have always have an on and off relationship, which included my dad cheating on my mom, not once, twice, but three times.
It was horrid. Me and my youngest brother, George, we used to sit on our staircase, listening to them fighting.
I love my brother so much.
Always have done.

I had another brother, if you want to know about him, read my SPAM book.

Anyways, my brother.
We don't have the same mom.
But we are the closest siblings, yeah we used to fight and argue a lot, but what siblings don't?
He once buried me in the snow. And didn't tell my parents.
And me being weighed down by my huge puffy coat, couldn't resurface.
One time, at 5 years old, in attempt to win, I jumped from a wall to be the first one to get the football. Falling and hitting my head on the concrete.
I was rushed to hospital, I actually had an ant in the huge cut.
But I'm ok now.
My brother was terrified. He thought I was dead.

Also, on my sixth birthday, we went to Dominican Republic on a holiday. It was so great, it will always be a memory that I will cherish forever.

Me and my mom moved away from the UK in 2010/2011.
That was the final time my dad kicked us out. This time leaving a couple boxes full with a few of our many things. Changing the locks.
I was only 7/8 at the time so I didn't understand, my mom just told me that we were going to visit her side of the family.

We spent 8 months staying with my aunty. In one little room. In a single bed. For the both of us.

We finally got our own house, I started my new school, and coincidentally ending up in the same class I spent 3 weeks in the last time we moved away from the UK to live.
I had my friends. I was happy.

But then my mom got sick.
I remember one morning, painting with my mom, then to hear her screaming and crying, collapsing to the floor.
Me being the 8 year old I was and recently learning peoples numbers, I called her at the time boyfriend.
I tried to console her, although it wasn't very efficient.
The ambulance came in rushing, getting my mom onto the stretcher and taking my mom away.
I stayed alone in the house for about 15 mins, (even though it felt like a lifetime) I cried and cried, believing that I had justa witnessed my mothers death. The paramedics were so busy they didn't explain or call anyone for me.
Eventually, my aunt picked me up, and I spent about a month with her and my cousins, without seeing my mom.

She did recover and everything was back to normal.
I started middle school. Which for those Americans is probably around 3rd grade (not sure).
Then my mom met this guy.
He was nice at first.
I was never to sure about him.
Always had creepy vibes from him.
But I never said anything, because I always put other people's happiness before my own.
(And I will continue to do so)

Keep in mind, I was about 9 by then. I didn't know about sex, periods or anything like that.
All I knew what that girls have their parts, boys have theirs, and my "special parts" (as my parents used to say) were for me, doctors and my parents.(not in a creepy way).

But then one night. I woke up mid sleep.
To the guy my mum was dating.
In my bed.

Sexually abusing me.

I had no idea it was wrong. I let it carry on and didn't say a word.
Now that I think about it, if i was asleep whilst he was doing this. I wonder how many times it happened.