The series of me

Chapt. 1

I've always been told "You may be (whatever age I was at the time) but, you've lived a life of a 70 year old".
   My mom was 17 years old, working at McDonald's, when my dad started working there with her. They started dating and once my mom turned 18 she moved in with him. Soon after moving in she got pregnant, and then married my dad in Hawaii while he was in the Army.  A couple months later I was born in Killeen, Texas on an Army base. I lived there for a couple years traveling to Florida and Ohio coordinating between the two to see each of my grandparents. Once my mom got pregnant with my brother, my dad got stationed to Colorado where my brother was born. At the time I was 2 yrs old and we lived there for three years then finally got stationed in Germany. That's when things started going downhill for my parents and where I had to grow up fast.
  My family lived in Germany for a total of 2 years. And in those 2 years it was nothing but pure pain, selfishness, and putting on a fake smile. You see my dads childhood was very messed up, and I learned that at a young age and my mom learning to late. When my parents first got married they where obviously in their honeymoon phase, until my mom caught my father modeling in a mirror wearing one of my mothers dresses. When we lived in Germany my father had countless affairs with both genders, my mother found this out in couples counseling. The counselors are only aloud to tell the other significant other confidential things if it's harmful to the person...the counselor told my mother that it's best for her to get checked by a doctor because of my fathers affairs. When my mother went home that night she confronted my father sitting at our computer desk. I remember very vividly watching Courage the Cowardly Dog in the living room when my parents where arguing when all of a sudden, my father stands up pushes our leather couch in front of our door, locks it knowing we have cops who live above our apartment complex and goes in their bedroom, bringing out a baseball bat. I vividly remember him swinging at my mother a few times with the bat and smashing our computer into oblivion. Sometimes I can still feel my black cat I had named Midnight jumping up scared for dear life and scratching me still leaving a scar on my left shoulder to this day.
   Of course my mom wanting a perfect family, wanting to still make things a whole again, went back to my abusive father.
   I had a best friend at the time named Noelle. We were in the same grade, same class and I was a month older than her. She and I where best friends, her mom and my mom where best friends. They lived under us in the complex, and one day after school she came over to play Polly pockets and barbies with me when my dad came in and asked aggressively if I wanted anything for lunch, me having my best friend over I wanted to make the most of our time together before she had to go home so I said "no thanks" and proceeded to play. After an hour an a half of playing she finally had to go back home. So I went into the kitchen and tried making myself a sandwich. As a 6 year old I couldn't open the peanut butter container and asked my dad to open it for me. He starts to yell at me saying " I asked you an hour ago if you wanted anything! You walked right in front of my football game!" And slams the jar into my stomach. After the impact, 6 year old me took in the stomach and a mixture of being terrified of my own father, I was no longer hungry and went into my room crying.
  I couldn't comprehend why my own father did that to me. I thought it was my fault he was acting out. I thought how could someone who is supposed to protect me, care for me and love me with all his heart, want to hurt me? As tiny as I was being 6 I got sick a couple times from the hit I just took. Weather it was the impact, the fact that I was scared and confused or both I got sick. And those who know me I'm tiny even as a 19 year old, could you imagine me being 6 and even skinnier, even smaller, taking a punch like that? Maybe that's why I get nervous when a male raises his hand near me. Maybe that's why I'm so sensitive when a male raises his voice at me or get offended easily.
          And if I got you intrigued keep reading, maybe you'll find who the real me is, or maybe you just wanna know how messed up my life truly was. Either way, this story is about to get so much worse.