The Beginning

When I was small I had all the love anyone could ever dream of. I was so niave back then. What three-year-old sees the toxicity in their home? It wasnt until my "dads" brain anerysm that the feelings of love started to change.

The morning started off like any other day. My "dad" picked me up out of bed and put me in bed next to my "mom". He did this every morning before he had to go to work. It was to prevent me from wetting the bed, I was only three after all. Little did I know it wasn't a typical day. I was awoken by a loud crashing sound coming from down stairs. I got out of my "moms" bed and ran down the stairs to see a sight that will forever be drilled in my core memory.

There was my "dad" covered in blood. He was screaming in pain with blood bubbles coming out of his mouth. He looked like a rabid animal. I don't remember much after that. I know i was told to go upstairs by my "mom" but I couldnt move. I wanted to scream and run to him. It felt like the world was still and the time was frozen. I didn't understand what was happening.

If you think this was the worst part of my story, you are sadly mistaken. I wish that this was the only traumatic thing I ever had to endure but after the age of five it all went down hill.