My brother , Ben. This year he supposed to turn 25. He had blond hair, green calming eyes , tall and both of his hands gave the best hugs and protections for me. I have two elder brother, Rome and Logan. I don't have any fondest memories with them. My mum left me when I was two, but sometimes she would come home when she felt the need. More likely when she ran out of money. It was my father that looked after us most of the time. Unfortunately he was into hard drugs ad anything else you could imagine. He's a hot tempered guy like Rome and Logan.
Ben was different. Different in every way. He wanted to go to school and be better . He wanted me to do the same but with looking after me and protecting me from all type of abuses that was going, his grades dropped.
Lots of things seems to be blurry to me as I would be fed with heroin like a candy since I was baby to keep me quiet. So no one would heard me scream. No one would heard me cry. Nobody would notice my absence in school days as my father would tell them packs of lies, things like my mum has cancer.
As Ben got expelled from high school , things steadily worsened . The beatings seems to get harder when I was around six. Maybe it's because I was older on that time. I noticed what was happening to me. Ben would get up early before anybody else so I could take some lunch to school.
The weekend of my 7th birthday , Ben gave me a doll. My two other brothers took that doll as soon as I got it. Devil take the hindmost. They pulled of the doll's head and sprayed the rest of its body red. I started to cry and the put me on the tramp. They started to jump on me. By the time they had enough, I couldn't walk. Ben carried me off the tramp. I then got pumped full of drugs by my own father. I know he barely stand the sound of me crying all night.
Once I woke up, my mother was there. I felt a sense of relief when she was there. I know nobody would dare to do any violent to me, If they did, she would take me along with her and they had nothing to play with. She stayed there for almost a month, where I've build up dreams that I'll get my perfect family back like old days. One day, I was calling for my mom and I realized that she's gone. She left the house. Again. Few days before , I asked her whether would she stay and care about me, she nodded her head. Now I know , I should never ask questions or what I'm going to hear would always be lies.
As the abuse worsened, I stopped talking. I would rather talk to my head. I had my own imaginary friend . I was hardly survive at school. The violence started as being beaten up, ended being tortured, raped and choked. People began to notice something wasn't right happening but tell me what could they do? I used to tell them lies and to this very day, I still do.
To be continued.