life

Chapter Three

By this time my father had went to jail again and my mother had moved on. She was now pregnant with my little sister. My sister was going to have a different dad but I didn’t care she was going to be my little sister. I promised that I would treat her like the world. I would think of how I wanted my big sister to act and do it for her. I would read to her while she was still in my mother’s stomach. I would never let her go through what I have had to.

 I have very little childhood memories of my father, but the one that stands out the most was when we my mother and I were home alone. I remember it was an apartment, but I do not remember moving. It was just the two of us home at the time and I remember there was a loud knock on the door. At first I thought it was the cops, but I was used to see cops coming into our house so I thought nothing of it. Then I noticed my mom had a panicked look on her face. The knocking grew louder and it sounded like someone was trying to break our door down. I remember my mother grabbing my hand and running into the bathroom. She turned to lock the door, but it was too late. My father had gotten into the house and he started to hit my now pregnant mother while sitting on her stomach. I remember there was a sink as you walked into the door. I was not the kind with a cabinet under it so I fit under the sink. I was there in the corner under the sink as my father hit my mother. I remember I got up and tried to stop him but he swung his arm back and knocked me back into the corner. I remember feeling completely worthless and helpless. My mother was my best friend, she was my everything, and I could not protect her, and my little sister that I had promised to protect my never be born now. I do not remember what happened next, like a lot of my memories it is forever gone.

My little sister was born in 1993. I was 8 and in third grade at this time. We lived in a little two-bedroom apartment. I remember my mother had a friend with two girls around the age of myself and my older sister. My mother friend was talking in the front room when she asked if my mother could watch her two girls while she ran to the store. My mother agreed. Her friend was not seen again for three years. My mother kept the girls and raised them alongside us. The oldest one we will call amy and the younger one elm. Amy had black hair and she was always so nice to me. I craved the attention since my own sister had already told me she hated me. Elm was closer to my age, but she was still older. I remember they both got along so well with my sister; they were always together and I was always left out. I felt such jealousy toward Elm. She wasn’t that much older. What did she have that made my sister like her when she did not like me?