Creepy true story's from Reddit

Take a walk with me. I wanna tell you how I got away with murder.

Do you love your family?

Do you really?

Think about it. Take a moment and walk with me.

Family is forever. Family is a group of people that are supposed to love, guide, and protect you. So people have said.

Family is bound to you for eternity by blood. With how many people that had to come together to make you, just you.

You're drowning in blood sweetie.

And so am I.

My family was on a different level of fucked up. My father was a car salesman who got high off of crack cocain and screwed his co-worker. Smiling in the faces of his neighbors who whisper about his sexuality behind his back, while he's thinking he has everyone fooled.

idiot.

My mother wasn't innocent. In fact she was worse than my dad. To everyone else, she was the unassuming second grade teacher, who went to church every Sunday and attended a book club with her friends.

Fucking Liar

She was horrible.

A righteous bitch who would get friendly with her brother after her husband went to sleep. Beat me with her precious brown leather bible in hand whenever I took too long doing the dishes; she would lock me in the basement, for hours and hours.

She once left me in there from the crack of dawn to the middle of the night, and when she let me out she smiled in my face and told me,

"I honestly forgot you were there."

I begged for food but she told me it was too late to cook and she shouldn't have to waste food on me.

Waste.

My older brother got the better treatment from my family. My father and mother didn't beat him like they would beat me. They didn't starve him like they would starve me. He stayed in his room on his computer. Shirtless sometimes while he talked smoothly to some man or woman on the other side of his camera.

The money he got for his cam sessions got him weed, white rum, and a car that he didn't have the license for. Bought second hand from a friend from somewhere in Chicago.

Regardless of the law he would take it out to "practice." He didn't care for my curled up, screaming, and scared self who he threw into the trunk of his car.

He would drive around for hours and speed up when he saw a speed bump in the road. Then laugh as he heard me cry in pain.

That's how I broke my arm.

This was all before I turned seven. Just so you have a better image of how messed up this story gets.

Are you ready?

——————

It was a cool Tuesday afternoon. My backyard was covered in leaves. Orange, yellow, red. I had just turned fifteen and it was the middle of autumn. I was alone as I sat on the back porch steps. Not just alone on the steps, but there was no one else home.

It was so peaceful.

The kind of peace you wish would never go away.

But good things never last long, do they.

I could hear my mothers heels clicking up the sidewalk as she got to the house. Her loud laughter let me know that she was on the phone. And she only ever genuinely liked talking to one person on the phone.