The Importance Of Childhood

1687 Words 7 Pages
One life, one childhood, and one adulthood is all we are given. Mom, this letter is for you and for my healing.

My youngest memory consists of sitting under the stairs in the first house that you had with your new husband. You and him were fighting, always fighting. I sat under the stairs terrified with my older brother, do you realize that I predicted your divorce years before it actually happened? Every time I spell that word “Fight”, I remember my brother teaching me. I wrote it on the small wooden divider that separated the laundry room from under the stairs in green marker. Yes I remember it that well. The busted up plastic drawers, the end of the dining room table getting broken clean off when that husband slammed his fists down upon
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We would be down in the basement and he would want to play mommy and suck on my non existent breasts. If not this, it was me in the garage with my brother and cousin on the deep freezer, convincing me to give them blowjobs. I remember this because it tasted disgusting. That all started when we had visited the aunt on that husbands side of the family. When we had played and adult version of house. This hasn’t even covered the times my older brother, my protector, would pin me down with his hands around my throat. You had your own demons to face I suppose, otherwise you would have seen the signs. I can’t have a normal sex life, I’m trained to be a whore. Thank god I at least know how to be loyal. You accuse me of going one relationship to the next. That 's because it gives me someone to be loyal to instead of sleeping with 6 different men. However even when I’m in a relationship, I can’t stand my significant other to scream. I don’t show it, but it terrifies me internally. I don’t have those stairs anymore to hide under. I am an adult and I hate when people raise their voices in …show more content…
I was the only reason you knew what was coming. THE ONLY REASON! If I would have went to church, you would have been taken off guard by what he was planning to do. “Draw all the money out of the joint account.” “Wishes he could have waited until the kids were graduated.” I heard it all from the top of the stairs that Sunday morning. I had grabbed the closest thing to pen and paper to me, a red pen (might have been a crayon) and a ripped piece of a box. When you had finally gotten back from church, I hid that paper in a book that had a yellow border and told you I wanted to go on a drive. You we’re trying to tell me no however I kept pressing the fact that it was important. Once we were in the car, I told you every little detail that I had wrote down. You drove to the school where your church was at to talk to your pastor. You listened to him as he told you to do nothing. I couldn’t believe that he would tell you that. I would have advised you to get to the bank before him and draw out the money. Not let your soon to be ex husband leave us high and dry like that. However you took his advise, waiting until he drew out your joint funds before confronting him. That night is seriously confusing to me. That night is probably why neither you or him can apparently trust me anymore. Mainly that night was about his trust, which I don’t care to have anymore. You handed me your phone, told me to call 911 if anything happened. Oh and it

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