What is safety?

Trigger Warning

(Extreme Trauma and Cuss Words)

Hi, I haven't updated for long but it's truly great to see that people would still read this story, even though there are just three chapters.

Who knows I might post regularly after all now?

What does the title mean? Oh, a question I ask myself every day, all day long.

To put things into perspective, I am not safe.

This house I live under? The "blood-related" people?

It feels like a sharp rope gnawing through my neck.

I know this should have been a more fun experience and story, but today I am unable to bring myself to that. Writing this gives me a sense of comfort probably.

You might ask, but Kiwi, what's the big deal? An argument with your family and you're being so dramatic, geez girl, relax.

I really wished it was that. You see, since I was born I was already disliked for my gender by my entire "family". It continues to this day but scratch that out for now. Growing up in an environment where physical abuse is common, I definitely received the worst end of it.

Being raised in a colored family, physical discipline is a norm, but what is that norm again? Slaps, smacking, a soft slipper now and then or the worst case? A belt.

My case? A belt would have been much easier haha. The worst I received was probably my right arm being pressed by a hot iron for a minute straight while it got stuck and getting a second-third degree burn. I was 16. I remember I couldn't feel any pain as I blankly stared at the shriveled up black skin on my arm and looking at the dark red part underneath. I just peeled off the layers of skin that burnt off and just tossed them on the floor as my poor excuse of a grandmother drained an entire bunch of Colgate toothpaste on it. Guess who ended up getting a bigger infection because of that? Ding Ding! You caught the gist, didn't you? The answer is me!

The biggest thing about all of this? I wasn't even taken to a doctor, let alone a hospital, and I have goddamn health insurance that they don't even pay for.

I was silenced by "my mother" as she gave me f#cking five dollars to stay shut and not tell anyone. I had my birthday just five days later and she promised me that the scar would heal in less than two weeks and it wouldn't be permanent.

The infection took two-three months to fully heal and to this day I still have certain bumps on my arms that are taking very long to finally flatten out. The scar? I have a burnt iron print from the start of my arm till a bit above my elbow that would probably stay for the rest of my life with me.

But hey, I have finally accepted it as my own so that's alright with me.

Why am I writing something like this right now you ask?

Because I just...just feel not safe. I feel like I'm in constant danger.

Living with a bunch of sociopaths, (not my deducing because a goddamn psychiatrist and counselors have told them that they literally showcase sociopathic behavior), who refuse to seek any mental health because, "Oh, it's a bunch of bullshit", who are now taking extreme violent actions against me because I don't want to conform to their though process and what they are forcing me to do. To the point of blaming me for their every single failure because everything is "Your fault for being a pathetic, dramatic bitch who just can't do what others do,"

To the goddamn point of FORCING ME IN A DAMN CELIBATE CULT OH MY GOD.

So

Enough is enough. I finally will write daily, and I mean daily to the point of writing two chapters here every single day and another two on my other novel, Dolled Up Wife, to just finally get the start I need.

I was too scared to move, too lazy to think I could make a change on my own.

Fear took over every shitty point of my body when three grown ass people corner you and yank your hair till they pull some off just to "check your phone" because "we can't trust you, you're a sl#t and a f#cking b#tch and we can't let you get better on your own because you will suffer a life that we lived."

So now, I am going to try my best to live a life that is completely opposite to theirs, happy and content.

Anyone up for spicy real life trauma stories with a bunch of dark humor and satire? Because I know a f#ckton that would probably take another couple hundred chapters to finish.

And to all reading this, if you are going through anything similar, being abused by anyone be it verbally, mentally or physically, you want to take revenge on them?

Do it by becoming the best versions of yourself. Do it by becoming successful as shit.

Just don't give in to your fear like I did for the past 9 years.

P.S: Don't worry you guys will get your funny stories right back after this chapter! See ya later lovelies!