Christmas

My favorite holiday is Christmas. Growing up I use to love seeing Christmas lights,trees, Santa, anything that came with Christmas. When we would go to my aunt's house I would sneak over to her tree to look at the names on the presents just in case my name was on one. Of course it wasn't, but I always hoped. I was never allowed to watch X-mas cartoons or programs, because it was against the J.W. religion. Oh how I begged to watch them knowing my answer would be the same,NO, but I didn't care I had to ask. I can remember asking my mom why we didn't celebrate Christmas, and she would tell me Jesus wasn't born on that day. She would also tell me that J.W's don't see him as a baby, but as a king. Then she would say that we don't have to wait for Christmas to give presents, we can give presents anytime. Those times never came, I cant remember not even one gift coming my way for any occasion. The only thing I hated about X-mas was seeing my class mates come to school with their new everything coat, clothes, shoes, and here I was jealous of them because all I had were my second hand or hand me down coat, clothes, and shoes. I didn't even have a friend that would share her toys with me like all the other girls in my class. I felt alone, I was alone.

My Brother

When my dad would be drinking or was away from home my mom would visit the neighbor lady, and stay there for hours to pass the time away. One night as my mom was visiting I was playing in the front yard when my older brother came over. While he was there he spotted some red ants (the bigs red ants) and followed them back to there ant hill. He then proceeded to do the cruelest thing ever. He threw me down on top of the ants, and held me there. I was screamiong for him to let me go, but he just laughed, and thought it was funny that I was being bitten by the ants. There was so much pain, that my screams probably matched what I was feeling. When my mom finally got to me she was horrified to see me. My little body was covered with ants, there was so many ants on me that she ran me inside the nieghbors house, and put me in the bath tub clothes an all. I was in so much pain that all I could is cry while she poured water on me to get the ants off my body. As I stood there crying I could see my brother laughing he didn't feel any remorse for what he had done to me, and I never got am I'm sorry from him. My brother was not a very nice person, he was into things like hurting animals and playing jokes on people that were only funny to him. This is sad but very true, he was not a good brother,son, or father, and every memory that I have of my brother is a bad one.

Sixth Grade

By the time I got to sixth grade I had learned that I needed to be tough, and not show weakness. At school I had this alter ego where I would cuss as good as any drunken sailor, and was so mean I could spit nails. There was this boy who would call me a Jehovy just to be mean, but he was the wrong person to say anything to me, because he had a red birth mark that covered half his face, but it was taboo say anything about it. I didn't care, and to get back at him for calling me a name I would shout back tomato face, and no ones going to love you with that huge red mark on your face. I also treated our new music teacher very badly. On her first day I was dared to stick a tack on her seat which I accepted. I snuck over to her seat when she wasn't watching, and placed a tack on her chair. By the time I got back to my desk the whole class room knew what was going on, and eagerly awaited for the teacher to sit on her chair. When she finally sat down she popped up so fast that the whole class started laughing including me. She knew it was one of us, but never even acknowledged the incident. This teacher had a lot of class, and dignity. After the tack incident I felt really bad. I wish I could say I turned over a new leaf, but I didn't. Soon after we moved, and I had to go to a new school. This was my chance to start over. I started being me no matter the cost.

My First Memory

You know, I am sure that my uncle sexually abused me prior to my first memory of it. It probably started when I was just a baby. It stands to reason that he would start that early, he was a child predator, and babies can't talk. I guess that doesn't really matter because when I could talk I didn't say anything, I was too scared. That's how pathetic my life was back then. My first memory of the abuse happened one day my uncle came over to see my dad, but I don't remember knowing where he was. He always had a way of knowing when my parents weren't home. That day he asked me to go look out back, not hesitating I went looking for my dad. On my way back he stop me at the back door, and asked me if I wanted some candy I eagerly said yes. He then told me he need a tool, and for me to show him where my dad kept them, once there he would give me some candy. I believed and trusted him, and so I went with him. Once we got to the shed he turned around to look at me I thought he was coming in for a hug, but I was wrong instead of a hug he put his hands down my pants and fondled me. This is where I should run, run for my life, scream, kick, punch something anything to get away, but I did nothing I stood there too scared to move. Once he was finished he acted as if nothing happened, but I knew what he had done was wrong. That day he took my innocence. Every time after that the sexual abuse just got worse, and every time I did nothing. I can only take comfort in the fact that he's still in prison after 23 years. All he is now is a pathetic old man who will die alone.