My Road to Cutting

On my thirteenth birthday (June 13, ), my parents decided to get a divorce. Then I found out the reason was because my mom found a new man in the next state named James who she and my sister (Ashton) went to all the time looking for records (Ozzy, Motley Crue, all that jazz). Well, my mom and my sister moved in with him at his sister's and brother-in-law's house. I moved in with my dad at his parent's house. My other sister, Courtny, lived with our OTHER sister, Misty, at my mom's parent's house. (I have three sisters in all.) I didn't think it was permanent. I thought, soon, maybe, we'd move back to our own home, which I had lived in my entire life. Well, my dad got a job right close to where my mom was staying so he was gone for a week at a time. (My dad didn't want the divorce, my mom did.) A few weeks later, my mom came to where I was staying and asked me to come spend a few days with them and she promised to bring me back before school started back. Well, I stayed with them, and her bf just made me really uneasy, like he would snap at any moment. James' sister had two kids named Hattie and Mitchell, and you'd swear they were the Children of the Corn. They constantly fought and yelled at each other, fighting to the point of throwing knives at each other (I hid in my room to avoid any misfired cutlery). They were mean, nasty, spoiled little children. And they were only eleven (Mitchell) and twelve (Hattie) years old. Well, the date for school to start back was starting to roll around, and my mother said she was going that day to re-enroll me in my school. She came back later that day and had enrolled me in a school closer to there. SHE TRICKED ME! Now I was stuck going to school in a place I didn't know. (I had went to the same school since I was four.) Well, one day, I came in from school and Hattie was behind me. She left the screen door open and we were already told to not leave that door open cause Jesslin (James' two year old daughter) could get out into the street. Well, when James saw the screen door open, he yelled, "Who left that screen door open?!?" Hattie automatically screamed that I did it. James chased me around the house, eventually catching me and slinging me into the wall. That was the first time he had ever hurt me. He then proceeded to take my sister's studded belt and beating me all over with it. When that was over, I pretended it didn't phase me and I went to my room. I got in there, locked the door, and I cried. How did I get into this mess? I thought my family was alright, that we didn't have any problems. Now look at us. We're torn to shreds.

A couple of weeks later, James' friends came over to play poker one night and one of their names was Gilligan. Well, my sister was in there and she said something to Gilligan. He said something perverted back and she slapped him. He proceeded to get up and hit her but I grabbed him from behind and yelled at my sister to run. (Mind you, all of my sisters are older than me. Ashton was fifteen at the time and I was thirteen.) Well, after my sister had already fled the room Gilligan knocked me off and into the door. My sister had locked herself in our room, so he couldn't get to her.

About a week later, my mom and James announced that me, Ashton, my mom, and James were moving into a house on the other side of town. That was a long ways from my school, and the bus didn't go out that far. My mom would have to drive me to school every day since it was that far. We moved into that house, and it wasn't really dirty, but it was junked up. One of James' other friends was letting us rent it out. Well, by this point my dad had taken it upon himself to take my sister and I out to eat and to Wal-Mart to get whatever supplies we needed on Friday evenings. So that was all we had to look forward to. I was missing a lot of school because half the time James wouldn't let my mom drive me to school. He wouldn't let me and Ashton play outside or meet the neighbors. He pretty much kept us under house arrest. So we spent most of our days exploring the house. It wasn't a huge house, but there was so much stuff in it that it took days to even see half the house. To get to the washer and dryer, you had to go through the junk room (which was a maze in itself) to get to the garage, which also had junk in it. It always stayed flooded for some reason, so to get to the laundry room, you had to walk across a 2x4 so you wouldn't step in something icky. Well, this proceeded, with James' usual rants and yells and accusations. One day he accused me and Ashton of messing with his record player, when we hadn't been in his and my mom's room all day. He yelled and screamed at us all the time. One day I was in my room doing homework and my sister was cooking something in the kitchen. I could hear James just saying awful things to my mother in the living room, that she was a worthless health forum, a dirty prostitute, all kinds of stuff, and Ashton got so fed up with it that she grabbed the Round Brush (big huge hair brush made out of solid wood) and she knocked him upside the head with it. I heard that and went to the living room to see what was happening and James had lept over the couch, grabbed Ashton by the throat, and shoved her against the door. I screamed at him to stop and my mom just sat there looking horrified. I got so upset that I ran to my room and cried for hours. The same thing persisted days afterward, him beating us or hitting us if we said or done wrong. We didn't want to tell our dad because he would have killed him and the last thing we needed was our dad in jail. If we called the authorities on James, they would have arrested my mom too for a) letting that happen and b) helping him sell drugs (I forgot to mention that James was a huge drug dealer). So we kept our mouths shut. One day, it was a Godsend. My dad came and told me and my sister he had found us an apartment to live in. I was so happy. We lived in the apartment and made all kinds of friends and everything.

It's been three years since the end of all that. I now live with my grandparents (mom side) right across the road from where I first lived. I am much happier here. My mom still lives with her boyfriend, and he's getting worse and worse by the day. My mom went to school a long time ago to be an LPN (had her license and everything), but she's just now realizing that James has Bi-Polar disorder. He still beats her and everything, and she has tried to kill herself, but we're trying our hardest to get her out of there.

I know, out of the way, this seems choppy. My self-injury was embedded throughout this entire story. When I was at home alone, I would constantly aggravate the cat so it would scratch me. Then I progressed to using darts and scissors. I just a year ago started using razors. I've used ice picks and all kinds of things. It's all hurting so bad. And, now, right now, I'm wanting to do it again. It's been months since I last cut, but I'm on the edge again. Mark said if I cut again he'll either do it himself or break up with me.