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08/11/09(Tue)11:15:09 No.5057770   My
dad was raised Catholic; my mom a Lutheran. Both of them grew up dirt
poor. My dad was one of six kids, and they all grew up in his
grandmother's basement. My mom's parents were alcoholics with a temper
and the police knew their house from their weekly visits. They had me
in their early twenties. Mom always had a temper; usually very calm,
but went up like a rag soaked in kerosene if you pushed her too far.
Dad was quicker to anger, but calmer about it. He was usually the
catcher in the plate fights.
Then my little brother was born six
years after me, severely non-functioning autistic. He couldn't speak
(beyond the chanting of "ESPN" or "CALL LEE FREE"). He could, however,
smear his feces on walls. Which he did frequently. When he got older,
it became his jizz.
I was beaten and raped when I was sixteen
by the friend of a friend. I pretty much cashed out on giving a shit
after that; didn't tell anyone because I didn't want to send my parents
over the deep end. I stayed at home for university to help my parents
take care of my brother.
I was dirt broke because I couldn't
have a job; however, my dad's work went to the shitter so they couldn't
afford to pay me either. I started shoplifting, and then one day I was
caught stealing a pair of fucking panties. I spent the night in jail,
too afraid to call my parents. Fucking of course, my mom works at the
sheriff's department, so she found out the first thing in the morning
and her and dad came and bailed me out.
I came clean to them
about the rape, we worked things out so that I now have a job, and I am
moving out in 6 months. Things are still rough between us, but
hopefully when I gtfo we can form some kind of a relationship beyond
mutual resentment. |
