I was beaten by my mother from the earliest I that I can remember. I was young, two or three and I remember. As clear as I was there. It was on easter. I reached for an easter egg and my sister beat me to it. I complained and then bang. I ran as fast as I could but I could not get away. She kept hitting me and kicking and I fell. She did it around the house and I ran to my dad up the stairs. He came out and I climbed to him. He pushed her down the stairs and she landed in the open clothes closet with my sisters holding her head. I hung onto my dad's leg. Looking at her laying on the floor. I hate it. Every house was like that, and it kept getting worse. And I would feel so bad that I got her mad. And then I remember, everyone sitting at the table,saying nothing. And I thought that it was all ok again. I hate easter. I hate my mum and dad for doing it. I hate that no one would protect me.
I tried to protect my brother. But I couldn't. And I hid when she came. I hid. And she just kept hitting with that belt and the cutting board. I jumped in once to protect my brother, and I never saw the hit coming. So I learned to turn off my mind. No thoughts, no pain. Just to stare off and take it.
I kept trying to please her and make her proud of me. But I just learned to shut my mind off. But my mind has opened and I can't stop it. Why has my mind opened up. To heal? I would rather it stay closed. I am overwelmed, numb. I hate it. I feel outside my body again looking in. I am not crazy. I will beat his.