I don’t come from a very nice family. My family has a history of abusive adults. The trauma gets passed down from kid to kid, and each one grows up to abuse their children too. I still haven’t figured out the reason yet. They sheltered me from mental illnesses, so that’s the one thing I don’t know much about. I’m academically successful in almost every other subject. I’m pretty sure it’s because they know a lot of people in our family have mental illnesses, and they didn’t want me to realize that. I never was actually abused myself, I had to watch my sister and my cousins being abused constantly, which was just as traumatizing. To this day I have no idea why they chose not to abuse me specifically. I loved my older sister Mary. I always tried to make her laugh. I learned through our horrible experiences and trying to cheer her up that laughter is the best medicine. Mary decided to move out right when she turned 18. She just couldn’t put up with our parents anymore. She moved into the cheapest apartment she could find, which was in a sketchy neighborhood. I didn’t want to be alone with our parents, I wanted to be with Mary. After living alone with my parents and hearing them bitch about how Mary moved out for only two days I decided to leave. I left the house while my parents were running errands and waited at a bus stop. I took the bus to an area close to where my sister was and walked the rest of the way. For about two weeks, things were almost perfect. We always had to take pepper spray when we went out and she was protective of me when we were outside together, but neither of us ever had to hear our parents yelling anymore. We hoped that eventually if she could get enough money from her job then she could find an apartment in a better neighborhood. But one day when she just wanted to go out to the store and left me sleeping on the couch, she went outside and became a victim of a drive-by shooting. I was devastated. I had just lost my best friend. I didn’t wanna go back to living with my parents.
I remembered that I’d heard that my aunt Maggie married a man who had a daughter, which would make her my step cousin. I decided that maybe I could live with them. So I called Maggie, they agreed that I could live with them, and now I’m here. I am optimistic that everything will be ok eventually. Right now things aren’t quite ok. Celeste is being abused by Maggie and witnessing it brings back my trauma. Celeste refuses calling the police or even telling her dad. She says Maggie will manipulate her way out of being in trouble and that it will make things worse for Celeste. But I know that somehow we will find a way out of this eventually. I don’t see any reason to be negative.
RIght now I am on a walk, Celeste’s house is near a forest and she goes on walks here all the time. This is my first time going on a walk out here by myself. This is my fourth full day living here, and Celeste is currently in school. This must be her fourth day of school, I think. We’re gonna try to get me enrolled at her school if I get diagnosed with autism because she goes to a special needs school. I think we’re gonna try to schedule my assessment sometime in the next week. So until then I don’t have school at all (Maggie’s house is far away from the highschool I was supposed to attend this year). I’ve just been walking and thinking, and I realize I haven’t checked my phone in a while. I look at my phone and see a text from Celeste from four minutes ago. She’s asking me to come back inside because she just got home from school, and pretty soon Maggie will be home. Celeste can’t deal with her on her own. So I turn around and start running. I try my best to get back to our house soon. When I finally get there, I see that I was almost too late. Maggie’s standing in front of the front door. She greets me and lets me in. I quickly make my way to mine and Celeste’s room and see the look of relief on her face as I walk in. She visibly has been having a panic attack.
“I’m so sorry, I lost track of time” I say
“It’s ok” she responds
“Celeste, where the fuck are you?!” Maggie shouts, as if Celeste wouldn’t just be in her room like she always is. Celeste doesn’t respond, and then Maggie barges in. “Respond to me when I’m talking to you!”
“What do you want now?” Celeste says
“I need you to do the dishes! You used all of them and made them dirty and let them pile up in the sink again, you disgusting heathen!” Maggie says, as if that isn’t literally what dishes are for
Celeste slowly gets up and follows Maggie to the kitchen. I follow behind them. I observe them from the living room as Celeste takes out a dish with nervous shaky hands because Maggie is watching her, and she accidentally drops it. Maggie slaps her in the face and calls her worthless, and they start arguing and shouting over each other, Maggie isn’t listening to her at all. It’s just like how my parents used to be with Mary. I try to intervene, and Maggie acts like I’m not there, again just like my parents. After she’s finally done, she walks away from Celeste and Celeste has tears in her eyes. I know she needs space in moments like this, so I don’t try to hug her.
“I’m so sorry,” I say sympathetically.
She nods, acknowledging my sorrow, and then she goes to our room, and I slowly follow behind. She gets on her bed, shoves her face into her pillow and starts screaming and crying into it. I can’t comfort her, because she needs space, so I just stand her and watch, feeling utterly devastated and miserable. I begin to weep softly. This is just like the terrible nights with Mary and our parents. I only got to get away from the trauma for one week.
“Do you need anything?” I say
“No, I think I need to be left alone right now” She says
“Alright,” I say as I slowly step out of the room and go to the bathroom. I take a shower, more to relax myself rather than for cleanliness. I’m in the shower for about an hour, and when I get out I see that Celeste is no longer in bed, she’s in the living room watching TV. Maggie must have gone to sleep. I walk into our bedroom and see a paper on Celeste’s bed. I read what’s on it, it looks like a poem.
If Only Things Could Not be l
I had a pretty normal childhood
Until Dad chose literally the worst woman to be my step mother
Maggie screams at me,
Calls me a retard,
And isn’t even afraid to lay a hand on me
Once I accidentally dropped a glass plate,
And she slapped me across the face
Told me I’m useless
When her fucking careless self drops dishes all the damn time
She calls me ugly
Tells me I’m pathetic and I’d be better if I wasn’t autistic
She belittles my learning struggles and my sensory issues
Always blames me for things
I wish things were different
Every single night I scream into my pillow
And then cry myself to sleep
And Kat, you tried to comfort me
But I asked you to give me some space because in those moments I don’t want any contact with other people
Now you just kinda stare at me with this sad look in your eyes
I wonder what’s going through your head
I cry quietly as I read it, and then I take the pencil that was left on the bed next to the poem and add my own part to the poem.
My childhood was never the most ideal
My siblings and cousins were abused constantly
The same way Maggie abuses you, Celeste
Hearing her scream at you and call you a retard kills me inside
And the way she hits you and seeing you in pain makes me actually wanna die
Especially that one time when she got mad at you and hurt you for dropping that glass plate when she isn’t any more careful with glass plates herself
You are so beautiful
You are so worthy
You don’t deserve this abuse
You shouldn’t always be blamed for things especially since they aren’t your fault more than half the time
I wish things were different
You have no idea how painful it is every single night, seeing you scream into your pillow
And then cry yourself to sleep
I know you need space in those moments so I give you space
But I can’t help but just look at you
And wish you didn’t have to be in this situation
If only things could not be like this.
I leave it on the bed for her to find when she goes to sleep. Then I walk into the living room and sit on the couch next to her.
“Do you feel a little better?” I ask
“Yeah, I’m kind of ok now, thank you” She responds
I slowly give her a hug, and she accepts it, which means she isn’t in a panicky state of mind anymore. Then we just watch TV together for the rest of the night, because Celeste doesn’t care that she has school tomorrow.
Broken Minds 