Trigger warning: This story contains graphic depictions of violence, sexual assault, strong language, and other mature themes. This is a fiction of my imagination and the events are not real.
It all started when I turned thirteen, I was growing up and developing into a teenager with all my mood swings and mischievous behaviors. My parents were fighting a lot more than usual which was probably my fault, all they did was constantly scream and punish me for whatever action I do. Every single little thing that happened was being blamed on me and it was getting impossible to live with them anymore, but what could I have done at just thirteen years old?
Things kept worsening and worsening for about 2 more years and finally, I turned fifteen, the day after my birthday my parents told me they wanted to talk to me. They came into my room and sat on my bed and I immediately knew it was bad news from their facial expression. They told me that they were going to go on their separate ways for a little while, my mother told me that my father was going to live in a different house from now on. I guess I did see it coming which helped me to not feel so shocked when they delivered the news, but little did I know that everything was going to extremely change.
For the next two weeks, the house was so peaceful and quiet, was it bad that I kind of like my parents not living together? There was no fighting at all and no shouting at night, you could hear the peaceful silence of the night, the wind blowing and the rustling of the leaves on the tree outside my bedroom window. In the morning you could hear birds chirping and you could feel the rays of the sun rising and shining.
It was another day consisting of me being in my room studying when the doorbell rang. I went to open the door and saw that it was my father when he saw the confused expression on my face as to what he was doing here, he mentioned that my mother wanted to talk to him. She came in shortly after and motioned for him to follow her into the living room, I thought this was strange but I just went back to my room and let them sort out whatever they needed to sort out on their own. After about an hour they both came into my room and my mother straightforwardly told me that she did not want me always at home with her and that she could not keep paying and buying things for me.
This confused and hurt me as I never ask for anything from my mother, and she only buys me the absolute essential things like food and toiletries. They agreed to both contribute to my living essentials and I would be living half the week with my mum and the rest with my dad. I kept thinking about how much of a hassle it would be, but I was in no position to argue with them as this was better than getting kicked out of both homes and living on the streets.
At first, it was not that bad as I tried to look at the positive side of things, that now I had two homes, not just one and I was thankful that I also had somewhere to live. After a few weeks going from one house to the other, my mother met someone and she insisted that I go live permanently with my father as I was only taking up space in her house and limiting her from this ‘new’ life she wanted to live. I did not fight back and went to live with my dad and appreciated the fact that at least I still had a house to live in. My life went downhill after this as I started facing life situations that no one ever wants to face.
My father was getting drunk every night and he brought a new girl almost every night back with him, it was both disgusting and disrespectful at the same time. To have your child in the house and do those atrocious things in front of them and also exploiting yourself and women in that way was truly twisted. I tried to get used to it as I did not have anywhere to go, but after 3 months living with him I could not handle it anymore and I begged my mum to let me live with her again, as at least at her house there was the same man every night which I hoped would be way better. Surprisingly, she started considering it and decided to talk it over with my father.
I surely wished I never said anything to her because that night, was the worst night of my life. Correction. One of the worst nights of my life. He came back drunk as always and he started saying things regarding me not wanting to live with him anymore while asking why I preferred mum better and he kept referring to me being an ‘ungrateful bitch’ over and over again. I told him that that’s why I didn’t want to live with him because he’s always drunk and he disgusted me, he never paid attention to me and he was not the father figure that he was before.
I heard a loud smack and suddenly I felt a stinging pain in my right cheek, and I could see small black dots in my vision. The smack was my father’s palm impacting my face forcefully. I fell to the floor and started crying. What hurts the most was not the stinging pain I was feeling but the fact that my dear father had just slapped me. He did not even bother checking on me or even look at me. He made his way to his bedroom and slammed his door. I laid crying silently on the floor wondering where this was coming from and what I did to deserve this.