blueming
if we can stand outside the borders of time
- Sep 21, 2018
- 253
My parents used to beat me up all the time when I was a child. My dad was away from home a lot of the time so my mum did it most often - her preferred method of choice was kick me a few times first and then go grab a coat hanger, giving me time to run away. Then she would proceed to chase me around the house. Child me for some reason would always run and hide in the same chair in the corner of the living room, waiting for what would inevitably happen when she caught me.
When my dad beat me it was more severe. The standout instances were when he dragged me across the floor by the back of my neck and choked me, when he trod on my hand and broke my fingernail making it bleed, and a bunch of other times when he kicked me down so hard that I couldn't stand back up. There were also instances when he couldn't get to me, like when he chased me around the house with a knife. I locked myself in the living room and he smashed the knife down on the glass door so hard it cracked. Another time he chased me up to my bedroom with a hammer, I barricaded the door behind me and he bashed the door with the hammer three times. The marks on the wood are still there.
Back then I would just accept it. Afterwards I would still think my parents were good people and only hurt me for my own good, I wouldn't question it. The excuse was always "It's because we love you" and I just accepted that. No. You don't threaten to murder someone because you love them.
When my dad beat me it was more severe. The standout instances were when he dragged me across the floor by the back of my neck and choked me, when he trod on my hand and broke my fingernail making it bleed, and a bunch of other times when he kicked me down so hard that I couldn't stand back up. There were also instances when he couldn't get to me, like when he chased me around the house with a knife. I locked myself in the living room and he smashed the knife down on the glass door so hard it cracked. Another time he chased me up to my bedroom with a hammer, I barricaded the door behind me and he bashed the door with the hammer three times. The marks on the wood are still there.
Back then I would just accept it. Afterwards I would still think my parents were good people and only hurt me for my own good, I wouldn't question it. The excuse was always "It's because we love you" and I just accepted that. No. You don't threaten to murder someone because you love them.
A lot of things have happened over the past year, too much to get into in one post. If I have enough energy I might write another post about it. But just going through the events of recent. My cat has been sick for around two weeks, throwing up white foam at first and now he has a fever that won't go away.
He's actually not my cat, my dad got him last year when he came back to his home country and "felt lonely". After I came back here with my dad, I inevitably fell in love with the furball and he's the only reason I'm still here right now. My dad treats him like some thing he can just discard whenever he feels like it. When he gets mad, best case scenario is he ignores the cat for a couple of days while I take care of him. Worse case was two weeks ago, just before my cat got sick, when he got angry at the cat for meowing loudly and started to kick it. I got angry at this and told him he was a bad person for hurting an innocent animal. He then physically kicked the cat out of the house, came up to me and told me "I'm going to kill you", went to the kitchen, brought out a huge chopping knife and brandished it above my head. At that point I was ready to accept death however it came, so I wasn't even scared anymore. But I guess he still had enough sense to not turn himself into a murderer, so instead he brough the knife down onto the cat's toys, food bowls, etc. and started chopping.
I begged my dad to take him to the vet and I was only met with more death threats, until a few days ago when the cat stopped eating and drinking. Only then did he finally agree to get the cat checked out. Today my cat seemed to be feeling a bit better and was bugging us to go out. The vet told us we shouldn't let him out, but my dad got sick of his meowing again and began to insult and swear at the cat, saying he's too annoying and he doesn't want him anymore. Eventually he lets him outside. Hours pass and my cat returns in the afternoon with another obvious fever. Instead of caring for him, my dad starts to swear and shout at the cat again, saying he doesn't listen, "I told you not to go out and you still went out, garbage cat" things like that. I tried to explain to him that cats don't understand what people say, that won't change no matter how much you scream at them. He got mad and said it's causing him too much stress and he doesn't want this cat anymore. Well, you should've thought about your ability to take care of an animal before getting one just because you were lonely for a few days.
I told him the cat's obviously still sick since there's still a fever present, we need to get him help. He just said there's nothing to do and ignored me. I became exasperated and told him again that he's a bad person. He came at me and raised his hand above my head, his typical stance when threatening to beat me up. He said "I'm going to beat you to death". I turned around and simply said again, "You're a bad person." This was the last straw for him I guess, and he immediately turned around, picked up a chair and swung it above my head. "Say it again," he threatens me. I have had enough at this point. I tell him once again that he is a bad person. He still has enough sense to not make himself a murderer, so he puts down the chair and comes at me again with his hand raised, and threatens to beat me to death again. I'm done. I tell him to beat me to death. He comes at me and kicks me and strikes me across the back.
After he hit me I made a feeble attempt to kick him back in retaliation. This is the first time I've ever fought back after getting beat up, and I'm proud of it, even if it means I got beat up more in the end. I'm no longer a little kid who will just take abuse. He's 1.80m and skilled in martial arts, I'm 1.63m and struggling with anorexia. My kick did nothing whatsoever, and he just kept striking me. But the look on his face just before hitting me again, after I finally stood up for myself after 22 years... it was a look of bewilderment. Thinking about it gives me the tiniest sliver of joy, knowing how shocked he was when I decided I wasn't going to just take it anymore.
I looked around for something to defend myself with and threw a plastic can of crisps at him, then a half empty cup of Pepsi. It was then when he started thumping me on the back with all his might, knocking my breath out to the point I almost blacked out. He then pulled me by the hair and threw me up and down, up and down towards the floor and back up, all while punching me on the back, in an attempt to get me to fall down on the ground, which I did. After that I just started to scream and cry in pain. My dad just kept staring at me while I was on the floor sobbing - I had a sudden thought that he might actually kill me since he has threatened to do so many times before. Yes, I want to die, but I will not die by his hand or any other member of my family. I will die on my own terms. The only thing I could think of to do was to scream and scream, Help. He's going to kill me, help. I screamed at the top of my lungs until he got annoyed and stormed out of the house.
My back is in so much pain. My stomach hurts. I've been having mild discomfort in my chest recently which I haven't told anyone, and the thumping on my back has made my breathing feel really labored. I'm so exhausted, physically and emotionally. I haven't seen my cat since this happened and I don't know if he's hiding in fear or if my dad kicked him out again. My cat is the only reason I'm staying alive right now, I want to make sure he is safe and healthy before I leave.
Sorry for the long post and if it seemed like I was rambling through bits, I've put some non-essential details in spoilers. I'm an emotional wreck right now and in a lot of pain, this is my attempt to recall the events before they blur together with the countless other instances of abuse. If you've read up to the end, thank you.