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New Albany, Indiana, United States

Sunday, March 25, 2012

The day I turned 18 was the best and worst day of my life.

Most kids, when they turn 18 get to have a party to celebrate the becoming of an adult. I mean, you can buy cigarettes, lotto tickets, party, stay out later, supposed to go to college. But, instead I got to do something else. Something that I hadn't planned on until 4 days prior.

Four days before my 18th I remember taking a shower. Doing my normal thing. It was on a Tuesday. My car was parked in front where my dad always instructed me to park. It was halfway in the grass. He didn't tell me he was going to mow the lawn. Especially that part. So I was in the back, in the shower and of course I didn't hear him at all. He said he honked the horn and of course if you are washing  your hair you won't hear that either.

Anyway, he comes in the house and I am still in the shower and he starts beating on the bathroom door. I yell out and say "yea". He asks what I am doing. I am thinking to myself "duh, I'm taking a freaking shower" but I didn't. I knew better. So I said showering. He yells at me and tells me to hurry up. I am thinking something is wrong so I hurry to dry off, put my clothes on, wrap my towel around my head and find him leaning against the kitchen counter. I saw the red in his face then. I knew he was mad about something but had no idea about what. He said "did you not hear me blowing your fucking horn"? "No, I didn't. I have been taking a shower." He told me to go get his belt. I immediately said no because I had done nothing wrong and went and sat on the couch. He went and got the belt anyway. He said you can take the ass whooping the hard way or you can take the right way. I asked him what I had done wrong and he never would answer me. He is never the one to try to talk things out. I told him I wasn't moving because I did nothing wrong. I guess standing my ground for the first time in my life, was the wrong thing to do by the physical abuse I endured that day but the right thing to do by standing up to a man that has shown he doesn't care about who he abuses. He grabbed me by the towel on my hair and flung me in the floor and proceeded to beat me like he had never beat me before. There was no one left. My mom left him. My sister snuck out of the window on her 18th birthday. My brother left, it was my turn.

That man, my dad, my supposed protector beat me until he couldn't breathe. I had blood running from my arms, my legs, my face, my butt, my back, you name, it was there. I had bruises all over my body. My face was puffy. I called the cops. You know what they said. Well, you live too far. You wanna know why? This is after my dad had his "coming to god experience" and was preaching at the jails. Yea. The good ole boy system. SCREW THEM! I still say it. I told that 911 operator right then and there that if I found her I her I would do way worse to her.  But, I wanted to be in jail until my 18th birthday to get away from my dad and they still wouldn't come and get me for threatening them. 

When that Friday rolled around my good friend Sandee let me borrow a huge purse she had the night before so I could pack what I could fit in there. I told my dad bye that morning and said I'd see him that afternoon. I never went to school that day, I tried to gather myself and call the police to let them know where the car was that my dad gave me. His name was still on it and I knew him too well. He would say I stole it and they would come pick me up. I actually called the sheriff personally because I worked with his brother. I let him know that he knew my dad too well and he knew that he was going to try some things if I didn't come home. I knew the rules though and I know I didn't have to go home so I'd probably have to call him again a little later.

I called my dad when school got out from an unknown number. I told him where the car was and I wasn't coming home. I said my momma may have put up with your abuse for 22 years but I won't and  you have lost your last person to abuse. He told me on the phone if I came home we would forget all about this. I knew better than that. I do believe if I went home. He would have beat me worse or almost to death. I really do. I promise myself that day, another man would never lay his hands on me and I have kept that promise to myself. I didn't talk to my dad for almost a year after this ordeal. He never apologized for it until he came up here almost 2 years ago. Then he joked about it later so now I don't consider it an apology. He has no remorse for it. He thinks he did nothing wrong. To be quite honest he called someone a liar recently for even bringing it up to him. Ha. Yea. I am a liar. I made this shit up but went to school the next day with the wounds to prove it. The principle even called me to the office to ask me what happened to me. I mean, really? This shit came out of thin air? I don't think so, dude. He knows he did it.

There is more to this story, not about him but who I moved with and I'll tell that in the next one.

As always thanks for reading.  Hope in some way I am helping someone

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