Post by rinn on Feb 22, 2011 22:50:31 GMT -7
i was six years old, and the family i had been living with decided they no longer had room. their son came back from college unexpectantly and reclaimed my room. i was packed and sent with the social worker that night. i often curse him. i blame him for the terrible things that have happened in my life, whether that is justifiable or not.
the place i was sent was not a happy one. i shared a room with three other girls, shared a bed with one of them. she was nearly two years older than i was, and figured that was enough to make me her slave, to be mean to me when i was scared and had nightmares, to kick and pull my hair and scratch me if i was playing with someone she wanted. she bullied me horribly and called me names that no eight year old should know. the other girls thought it was funny, and the parents - if you could call them that- just got annoyed when i would cry.
they had become exhausted of 'punishing' the other girls. who were all older than me, and who would fight back or just run away from the house. instead, they took everything out on me. when another girl got loud, it was my fault. if something was broken, i got the beating for it. they said that my parents didn't like me because i was ugly, that i was sent there because i wasn't good enough for anyone else. they said blonde hair meant i was stupid and worthless and they despised the length to what my former family had let me grow it to. one night, in a drunken rage, the woman jerked me out of bed and dragged me to the kitchen, sitting me down and took the kitchen scissors, cutting it all off.
i endured that household for nearly three years until my social worker was pleasantly clueless, as were teachers at my school. they weren't stupid, i was little so i bruised easily, they managed to hit my back the most, grabbing my upper arms and legs. places that could easily be covered.
the day my social worker decided i needed to be taken away, she came for an unexpected visit. i was hiding under my bed. the t-shirt i was wearing showed the hand marks on my arms and even when i lied and said it had happened at school on the playground, she took me away.