tryingtowrite00 (tryingtowrite00) wrote in abusedbutcaring,

Tuesday, March 8th.
My mother woke me up around 7AM on the Tuesday that I thought would be the same as usual. She rushed me, as usual. She told me hurry up, and that I’d be late, around 7:20, as usual. Then, unlike every other Tuesday, around 7:30, she becomes angry. I tell her to relax. Then, I look at the clock and I remember that it’s a late-start minimum day and that I didn’t have to be at school until 9:20. I was already more annoyed than usual at her, so in my anger, I told her, “we don’t even have to be at school until 9!” then I walk away. I know I told her everyday for the previous 4 days. I yell, “I TOLD YOU!” she yells back telling me I didn’t. She’s clearly annoyed, but I don’t care. I decided to sit on the far couch. She turns on the news. Around 8:00 she tells me, “Go on the computer and see when the Lion King comes back.” I do, and I find out that it’s going to be at the end of the year in San Diego. I tell her. “San Dieeegoo?” she asks, like a snob. I tell her, angry, “you won’t go; you don’t like to leave the house.” She sighs. I go back, and start to print out my Spanish extra credit. After I do, she tells me we’re going to leave. She asks me if I’m going to drive, I say I will. I go get the car keys and my brother starts to walk down the stairs.  She calls at him, “JR!” she yells, “JR! Call Jennifer back up.” He can’t hear her. He’s already downstairs and I’m still at the door; she thinks I’m the one going down the stairs. I hear her mumble in Spanish. She says “damn kid.” I go towards the sound of her voice. She’s in the tiny hallway between my brother’s bedroom and the living room. I go, my large bookbag hits her, and she gets pushed back into the wall. She doesn’t fall or anything, she’s fine. Angry, and thinking I did it on purpose, she asks…more like yells…”how dare you touch me, I am so sick of you, don’t ever touch me!” And in the hypocritical way parents do, she smacks me on the side of my head. I put the car keys on the desk and walk downstairs to the car. I go downstairs. She comes down and tells me, “go in the back seat, I don’t want to look at you” I tell her to stop talking to me.” She becomes angry. I’m already crying. I go in the back. JR is in the front seat, his seat is far back, and I can’t fit. I ask him to move, he doesn’t. I ask him again, annoyed. He still doesn’t. I ask him again for the final time… he still doesn’t. In my rage, I smack him. He isn’t hurt, it barely touched him. My mother, angry, yells “what is the matter with you? Get out of the car.” I resist, but I see the wrath in her eyes. She pulls my hair and tries to get me out of the car. When I do, she opens the trunk. She grabs an umbrella. She’s yelling, when I try to think about it, all I hear is the teacher from Charlie Brown. Then, I can remember yelling back, “Don’t touch me, you hypocrite!” then, she smacks me. I smack back. She stands back, “how dare you?” she screams, and in response, I say, “you’re so stupid!” She has the umbrella in her hands. She begins to swing. I raise my hand to cover my face, she keeps swinging. I’m being beaten, and I don’t know if I’m going to live. Then I smack her mouth, she’s spitting, she looks like a rabid dog, than a human. She starts to bite my palm. I remember screaming, as if I’m on a rollercoaster at Six Flags. Then, I try to defend myself. I smack. That’s when she strikes. Her fingers and her long nails grab at my face. I feel pain all through my body. She moves to my hair, it’s long and she has easy access. She begins to pull as if she’s trying to win a tug-of-war game, I’m screaming. That’s when JR comes in, he saves my life. She tells me to go upstairs but changes her mind, and says we’re going to school. I don’t know what she did to me, so I still in the back, crying. On the way to school she calls me stupid, a baby, and I can’t defend myself, and to never hit people. I’m angry. My mind keeps replaying what just happened. I can’t feel my hand and my face is burning. I don’t think she knows what she did. Everything is a blur after that, I remember being in Kyle’s arms, crying, I remember talking to my old friends from Middle School, I remember sleeping in the nurse’s office, I remember hearing the police officer telling me my mother was arrested and charged. I remember during drama class, how much they cared. I felt happy in drama, nobody understands, and nobody will ever understand how I felt that horrible Tuesday morning. I remember being afraid to go home.

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