When I was 10 years old my mother remarried. I knew nothing about him and had only seen him a few times. He was a scruffy red-head that worked on a towboat that travelled up and down the Mississippi River. I was terrified of the changes my life was about to undergo.
My mom worked nights as a convienence store clerk/manager and my step-father was gone for weeks at a time on the boat. I was in charge when they were both gone which was fine with me. I wasn't used to my mom being around at all, but I didn't care for being left with some strange man when my step-father was off the boat.
My brother and I weren't bad kids. We had been sent to our rooms for the usual childhood transgressions. My step-father seemed to have different ideas about how children should behave and how they should be punished. I went from never being spanked in my life to refusing to dress out in P.E. so noone would see the bruises on the backs of my thighs. We were accused of lying and beaten until we could figure out what truth he wanted to hear. I was better at this game than my little brother so I would often take the more severe beating.
A few years later my step-father would have me keep him company while my mom was at work. This usually involved watching porn with him late at night. He would also leave various magazines around, and not the classy kind like Playboy or Penthouse. These had grainy low-resolution pictures with no airbrushing. Scary pictures for a 12 year old.
One night he woke me up and had me go to his room and get into bed with him. He told me to face the wall while he got undressed and got into bed. I lay there terrified out of my mind. I wanted to cry, I wanted to run, I wanted to kill him right then and there. By some miracle he came to his senses and told me to leave. I was shaking so bad I thought I wouldn't be able to walk down the hall back to my room.
I spent the rest of the next day or two trying to work up the courage to tell my mom. I brought it up in a general way at a rare family dinner. He gave me a very threatening look and told me to drop it. She never came to me and asked what it was all about and I have no idea if she ever suspected or what story he told her. After that I was spared from the beatings, but I was never the same.
Things didn't get any better. He quit working, or got fired from the boat so he was around more. When I was 14 he moved us to Arkansas. I hated it. I hated him. I hated her. I suffered a year there until he knocked my brother out cold for something stupid and minor. I started plotting his death. I started planning my suicide. That's when I decided to leave.
I was 15 when I asked to go live with my dad. I really didn't know him that well and used some lame bullshit excuse about getting to know him better now that he wasn't in the military and was back living stateside. My mom was furious. She agreed to let me go, but she said she hoped I had a daughter that would leave me so I would know how it felt. Whatever.
I believe my brother resents me still. He didn't have anywhere to go. He was stuck and I was leaving him to fend for himself. I'm sorry for that, but it was my step-father or me and he was winning.
How's that for a depressing Monday post?
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