When I was born, I had lovely parents; they were in love, and the kindest couple you could ever meet. When I was about a year old my maternal grandfather passed away which triggered some underlying mental illness in my mother. My father lovingly retrieved custody of me when my mother was no longer able to care for me due to severe Bi-polar and Multiple-personality disorder.
My father found support and comfort in the arms of a mutual friend of theirs who also had a child 6 months younger than myself. Thinking this was the ideal situation for him and myself; they moved in together, got married, and had three more children.
While my father was slaving away at work day to day in hopes of providing for what he thought was his wonderful family at home, his wife was at home locking his 3/4 year old, first born child, in her room with minimal access to food and no access to water. I had an underdeveloped bladder which caused me to need to urinate more often than normal for a child of my size. I woke up every morning to my step-mom rubbing my face in soiled sheets, followed by an hour of sitting on the toilet w/ no breakfast or water.
I was then returned to my room for the day. I would listen through my door and check for shadows under the door to make sure she had left the room before opening it as far as I could with the bungee cord holding it shut from the other side. I would squeeze through to scavenge for things I could eat quickly without being caught or heard. I would eat ice tea powder from the cupboard; keep in mind I was still a toddler so it seemed practical to eat a beverage (two birds, one stone I thought).
I would then return to my room for fear of being caught. She was so mean in general, I didn't dare risk the chance of actually doing something wrong. I would be in bed and asleep when my dad got home from a hard day at work. She would open my door after I was asleep, she probably would wait until she didn't hear me moving around to undo the bungee cord she had set up.
My favorite times were when a holiday was coming up because there would be chocolate setup outside my door for her holiday chocolate making days. Some of my spare time was spent sitting on my 3rd story window sill in my underwear squishing clover-mites under my thumb because I thought it was cool that they were red.
I remember considering jumping out the window to go find a better place to be, but I figured my legs would break and I wouldn't be able to make it out of my room during the day to get food. I remember waking up in the middle of the night and going to the kitchen to drink water because I was so thirsty and I knew my door would be locked again in the morning. by the time it occurred to my dad that something was wrong with me, it was too late.
He called around to different government resources for help, he had run out of ideas and could not figure it out. His phone calls resulted in my immediate removal. This was my fault, I thought, if I had acted right they wouldn't have taken me from my daddy. My daddy was my favorite person in the whole world.
My father found support and comfort in the arms of a mutual friend of theirs who also had a child 6 months younger than myself. Thinking this was the ideal situation for him and myself; they moved in together, got married, and had three more children.
While my father was slaving away at work day to day in hopes of providing for what he thought was his wonderful family at home, his wife was at home locking his 3/4 year old, first born child, in her room with minimal access to food and no access to water. I had an underdeveloped bladder which caused me to need to urinate more often than normal for a child of my size. I woke up every morning to my step-mom rubbing my face in soiled sheets, followed by an hour of sitting on the toilet w/ no breakfast or water.
I was then returned to my room for the day. I would listen through my door and check for shadows under the door to make sure she had left the room before opening it as far as I could with the bungee cord holding it shut from the other side. I would squeeze through to scavenge for things I could eat quickly without being caught or heard. I would eat ice tea powder from the cupboard; keep in mind I was still a toddler so it seemed practical to eat a beverage (two birds, one stone I thought).
I would then return to my room for fear of being caught. She was so mean in general, I didn't dare risk the chance of actually doing something wrong. I would be in bed and asleep when my dad got home from a hard day at work. She would open my door after I was asleep, she probably would wait until she didn't hear me moving around to undo the bungee cord she had set up.
My favorite times were when a holiday was coming up because there would be chocolate setup outside my door for her holiday chocolate making days. Some of my spare time was spent sitting on my 3rd story window sill in my underwear squishing clover-mites under my thumb because I thought it was cool that they were red.
I remember considering jumping out the window to go find a better place to be, but I figured my legs would break and I wouldn't be able to make it out of my room during the day to get food. I remember waking up in the middle of the night and going to the kitchen to drink water because I was so thirsty and I knew my door would be locked again in the morning. by the time it occurred to my dad that something was wrong with me, it was too late.
He called around to different government resources for help, he had run out of ideas and could not figure it out. His phone calls resulted in my immediate removal. This was my fault, I thought, if I had acted right they wouldn't have taken me from my daddy. My daddy was my favorite person in the whole world.
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