Borderline Barbie

Living with Diego.

My parents just split, I was only 4 years old, "why did we run away from daddy while he was at work?" I used to say to myself everyday. My thoughts always wondered. Growing up in my household of 4 was, you could say a war zone. My youngest brother Diego was diagnosed with ADHD when he was 6. Every morning I woke up, I would get dressed knowing as soon as I walked out my bedroom door I was entering the battlefield. It was always me he chose, from spitting in my face, dragging me by my hair, chasing me with knifes and punching me in the face. He was horrible and he hated me and I never understood why. "What have I done to him?" And "why does he enjoy hurting me so much?". Most of the time I could over power him and I resulted in violence back to him. When he would grab knifes and other weapons I would run to my room, lean my back on my bedroom door with my legs up pushing against my cupboard door and just pray he would never get in. My bedroom door was hard to miss, it was covered in holes, spit and slashes from the knife. Sometimes he would even try to cut my feet by sliding the knife in and out from under the door. On my 10th birthday my dad was back with us in our new town, we all still never understood what had went on there. But anyways my parents through a party for me at the local McDonald's on the McDonald's train, I'm a twin by the way, I have a twin brother Chad. So my parents through the party for myself and Chad, all my friends came, I got so many beautiful presents from my friends and family. I was really into collecting porcelain dolls, I loved them. Most people had gifted me dolls, I was so happy they were just perfect. I was so excited I showed them all off the whole day leaning on the windows. After the cake, it was the traditional ice cream the McDonald's famously always had for parties. After the cake my little brother Diego was extremely angry, he was walking past me, pushing me, spitting at me. I could tell he was really jealous of all my presents. Diego didn't like the attention not being on him, he never likes seeing me happy, or myself and Chad having a birthday party thrown for us without it being he's birthday also. Diego couldn't stand our parents doing things for us. To him, they were he's parents not ours. Even though he looked at them more as property then as parents. Just because he didn't like any type of attention we received from our parents, doesn't mean he was always looking for the same kind of attention off them back. He was a menace, he loved being mean and violent. So back to the McDonald's train and my dolls, he has finally had enough he couldn't stand the attention not being on him for any longer. He looked at me and said "happy birthday slut", yes he has been calling me a slut, whore and a bitch since he was 7. As he said that he ran he's hand through all my beautiful dolls that were sitting so perfectly on the train windowsill and smashed every single one of them. I instantly just cry my absolutely heart out. My parents tried there hardest to punish Diego but nothing worked. Again I say to myself "why me?, what have I done to him?, why does he hate me so much?". Eventually my parents took Diego to a paediatrician, he was diagnosed with ADHD and was put on Ritalin. My dad left again, us kids never new why, we just always felt the emptiness of not seeing our father again and wondering why. Without my father it did get worse, the war continued at home, the war never stopped. Even though Diego was prescribed Ritalin which helped immensely, my mother couldn't bring herself to keep giving them to him as he copped a lot of side effects of hallucinations of him thinking bugs were crawling all over him and for her it was too heartbreaking to watch. Most of my memories growing up with Diego were horrible, he just was an absolute monster. On one Christmas I think I must of been 12, My grandmother bought this beautiful chain with a cross on it from Croatia, it meant so much to me, until one morning I was walking to school and Diego was in front of me, I could hear him laughing and yelling "watch this slut!" There was something he was swinging around in he's hands it was shiny, yes, it was my necklace that my grandmother had bought me. As he was swinging it he dropped it down a creek drain whilst running off giggling. My heart was absolutely broken. I cried and cried all the way too school. Again I thought "why did he do that?, what have I done to deserve this?!".
Myself and my 3 brothers Jason, who was 3 years older then us, my twin Chad and Diego who started school a couple of years after us, we started school at our local primary school. I was a very intelligent student all the through primary school. Grade 6 I got junior school council although I did bully my way into the whole class to pick me. I always wondered why I started to never never be able to handle my emotions like other people could. If I was upset with something I was extremely angry, being sad was like wanting to die. It was horrible. I just never new why I was so different to all the other girls. If someone said something I didn't like I would loose it at them like a loose cannon. I got into a violent fight a few times during grade 6. Which resulted with many punches to the other persons face and many to mine also. "Was I becoming like my brother?" I would ask myself. "Why do I do these things to people?", "Why am I so angry all of the time?". It was graduation night, all the girls came in such pretty dresses with there hair and makeup all beautifully done. I chose to wear a pair of jeans, which I sprayed with a glitter spray, a little pink top and my hair up with curls. All the girls danced and laughed, I just couldn't wait to get home and isolate myself back in my bedroom listening to music and just praying my brother wouldn't enter my room and start trouble. Most times if we had a fight at school, he would run home before me. Paint my makeup all over my mirrors and walls, writing "slut" and " bitch" and "whore". There would be dribbles of spit all over my bed. My wardrobe would be turned upside with spit all through it. This was a regular thing also, I don't know why but he loved fighting with me as soon as he would see my at school. I could just never get away from him. Until I started year 7, I finally got a break from him, I was really enjoying going to high school.