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It all started from the day i would remember my first memories, i was around 7 or 8 at the time my father was never around he was either working or drunk and leaving with his friends going to the bars while my mom stayed home and took care of me and my siblings, my mother never knew this but sometimes i would would see her on the phone begging my father to come home, i could see the tears streaming down her face as her hand clutched her phone towards her ear while my father slurred his words on the other side of the phone.

I hated seeing my mother cry but I could never do anything about it. I was so powerless to do anything but stand there, while my mother suffered.

I never understood why my mom wanted my father to come home if he was just going to continue drinking his life away until and beat us until he decided he had enough until now. My mom loved my father and didn't want him to get hurt that's why.

Sometimes when my father was home drinking instead of inside a bar he would take us to a drive thru to buy junk food.

That's probably the only good thing about my father always being drunk. He would buy us anything we wanted because he would be too drunk to even remember the next morning.

Looking back at those memories know i would see how tired my mother was and how strong she was for putting up with my father and all the abuse and having to raise 4 children on her own and me being the oldest i had to put up a strong front and try to shild my siblings form the abuse me and my mother indured and also be strong for my siblings they need one good male role model in life and that was going to be me.

School wasn't any easier then being at home kindergarten through 4th grade was a breeze. Until 5th grade i never thought that weight was something i had to worry about until the bullying began and first it was just whispers and ignored i thought mady it was just all in my head until it started going to people pushing me into the wall and calling me "pig", "fatass", "haven't you had enough to eat piggie", i could take the physical abuse the mental abuse was the hardest but i never told my parents, my mother already had to much on her plate with my sibling and why would my father care to drunk to know what going on around him he would also beat me so its not like he'll protect me.

The mental abuse got so bad that suicidal thoughts creeped into my head. I remember one time those thought got so deep into my head that when I came home I went straight into my room and took a pair of razor from my sharpener and put the razor near my wrist and sliced across my wrist i was about to do slice my other wrist until I heard a knock on my door and my baby sister voice so excitedly saying she wanted to tell me about her day at school. That when I came to my senses. What I was doing I had siblings that needed me and a mother that loved me and they didn't need this right now.

I wrapped a piece of fabric around my wrist to stop the bleeding, when I opened the door my little sister stood there with a bright smile on her face, and saying excitedly "Marcelo guess what, guess what". Before I could answer her she jumped up and down chanting "I made a friend today and know we're going to be best friends forever!"

"That's amazing Scarlett," I said while I hugged her and smiled, while I thanked God in my head for making her knocking on my door when she did.