Why me? That's a question I've asked a lot. It always comes back to the same answer: I have no idea. Each night after the pain numbs a little I think about it. Then wake up to screaming and " June get the hell downstairs." Every. Day. Then I get my little sister out of the house as soon as possible so she doesn't get hurt. She has a disease too. Her skin pigmentation is different. She has two different skin colors. I have to put on extra makeup for her because if I don't then she gets hit at school. She doesn't need to be hit anymore then she needs to be. Being abused at home is enough. I'm not sure how but somehow in this messed up world my parents were married. My mom is super religious and my dad is a drunk. My mom is never home. My dad is always home. Except when he runs out of beer. Then he is gone for at least an hour. When he is gone I try to convince my mom to kick him out of the house, but she is too afraid. She knows that if she does a gang of drunks will show up on our doorstep to practically kill us. She told me once that my dad hasn't always been this way. After my grandma died when I was young he didn't take it too well. He started drinking and became an alchoholic. That resulted to him always being drunk and he never thought straight so he started taking it all out on us. At first it was just yelling at us a lot, but then he just started hitting us. First it was just me but then that wasn't enough so he started on my sister. She was only 3, so I started taking beatings for her, just to save her from being messed up in the head. I couldn't forgive myself if that happened. I just wish he would go away. I have been hit all my life. It got even worse when we found out I had cancer. I was 7. You do the math, I was 7 when I was diagnosed, and I've had cancer for 10 years. I'm 17. As a child he took it all out on my mom, once i hit 5 all hell was released on me. Sometimes, not in a mean way, I wish my sister wasn't even born, just to save her from all this called my family's life.
