As my mom forcefully grips my hand I restrain myself from making noticeable noise or showing indicative emotions as much as I can. I don't want Kaylee to get suspicious.
She would do contortionist work to fit herself in the sink if it meant she could figure out what was going on and Kaylee learning that she has abusive parents would fiercely ruin and crush her world. It sure as hell ruined mine.
We walk conjointly to the car and once we get in and start driving, I knew immediately where we were headed. It's the same place my parents always took me before they started hating me, before the abuse.
When my mother Kaila was eighteen she got pregnant with me, she wasn't married but she had a boyfriend, Marcos Cortez.
My grandmother, whom I've never met, didn't help my mom. She was pissed that she was messing around at such a young age and didn't condone the pregnancy or a marriage.
My grandpa died when my mother was six so my mom was all my grandma had, but my grandmother was so enraged she kicked her out of their house.
After my mom left, they lost all connections.
That was markedly the first step into my mother's psychotic break.
My mom moved into a small two-bedroom apartment with my dad. They were happy, for a while. We were good. A cute average family, and we were stable.
My dad had a job and soon my mom joined him in the workforce while they both went to school. My dad did night school and my mom did day classes so I was always watched. I was loved.
As I grew into my terrible two's just like any other child, I became difficult. My father grew more and more frustrated with me and was on the verge of leaving, despite the wedding my parents were planning. I guess in hindsight I understand his point of view.
He was eighteen going to school, working, and having to take care of a bratty two-year-old. It would drive any person crazy, especially a young irresponsible teen. But still, I was his daughter, he should have grown up and learned to dealt with me. He should had stuck around indefinitely because things would have gotten better.
He was about to leave, but then I finally hit three. Things got easier, by age five I started going to school and even though public school is free I started eating more and asking for more things. I was only a child but we were at a point where we were almost broke.
What I didn't know or comprehend at the time was that my parents were extremely stressed, they hardly saw each other, and they were always busy trying to scrap up money while still managing to get an education. My mom had an affair and got pregnant, again. As if she hadn't learned the first time.
By age seven my dad was gone and I can truthfully tell you I don't even know if he's still alive or even in the same state as us.
My mom has never been one to accept responsibility for her actions. She immediately blamed me for making her life harder, for putting a wedge between her and her first love, for driving him away. It was all my fault in her eyes and she has hated me since. She had to drop out of college and she started working full time. I was left alone in the house regularly. Eight years old walking to and from school every morning, cooking my own meals, and tucking myself in at night.
Slowly my mom started making my life a living hell, all because she couldn't stop making simple mistakes.
My mom eventually married the man she had the affair with, Christian De- La Cruz. He was an abusive man, much older than she was, and he had been taking care of the baby they had together. My mom forced me to move in with him and he made us financially stable.
For a few short weeks life was easier. I didn't have to walk to school anymore, my mother wasn't as depressed and lonely, I even got my own room. Things were looking up. But it didn't take long for my mother's bitterness and resentment to reappear. It happened suddenly and all at once... I think I was ten the very first time she made me bleed.
They ganged up on me. I don't believe she ever really told him the real reason she hated me. If he knew that he was making my life hell simply because my needy toddler self drove my father out and she was bitter about it, he would probably reevaluate the situation.
But no matter how stupid the reasoning, they always seemed to find joy in making me suffer. It started with deprivation, it was food, sleep, love, mental stability. Then he convinced my mom that hitting me would teach me, it would make me a better person, clean up my act. Honestly, all it did was traumatize me. My father probably knew my mother had a screw or two loose, and I sympathized with his desire to escape. He had to get out of there as fast as he could. I just wish he would have taken his defenseless kid with him.
Soon the monsters agreed that they hated me and they loved the innocent blessing, Kaylee.
I wasn't allowed to touch her. They thought I would pass on my bad luck or something. But I always felt a special bond with her and even though she couldn't stop my abuse, I felt happier around her. She became the favorite and I became the minority in my own household.
Once Kaylee was old enough and we knew she wasn't stupid or that she wouldn't be oblivious to what was going on, they did it less frequently and introduced more mental warfare. But they made it very clear to me that it wasn't for my benefit. It was for hers.
I was just glad that she was happy and safe.
The golden age where my discipline was on hold didn't last long. It only took the two adults a couple of weeks to come up with a schedule and house rules that would keep me in check while keeping her in the dark. They were never scared I was going to tell anyone because they knew I would aim to protect Kaylee.
Anyone else in my situation would loathe her but I couldn't, she was my sister, and she didn't choose this as much as I did. Although my parents claimed to love her, they frequently threatened to hurt her if I ever tried anything. I couldn't let anything happen to her, so I kept my mouth shut.
I wasn't sure why my stepfather so passionately hated me. Maybe he didn't and he just wanted to please his new wife. Maybe he actually didn't mind me but he just had anger issues. Maybe it was a sick joy he felt from hurting someone who couldn't fight back. I had no clue.
What hurt more than their physical and emotional abuse was the memories I couldn't get rid of.
I had memories of my father and my mother. I remember my mother's hugs and kisses and the bedtime stories she told. I remember my dad trying to teach me how to play sports even though I was just a clumsy little girl.
I remember being loved, and to have it all taken away and replaced with something so horrible, so quickly... Was just awful.
If I was forced to be abused but I could change one thing, I would change the memories. I would just clear my mind and make myself forget it all. It would have been easier to just hate my parents from the beginning and not have an emotional hold. It was draining always trying to push away hope that lingered in the back of my mind— hope that my mom would just wake up from her trance one day and realize all the wrong she's done. And hope that my dad is going to come through the front door one day, kick the living shit out of Christian De la Cruz and carry me home. A home where I would be safe.
I wish I didn't have the memories. I wish that I could be as cold hearted and as numb as they were. That would make everything better.
But nothing I wished ever came true. Nothing.
Once we arrived at this special place I wasn't surprised at all, but I put a smile on for Kaylee. This was the first time we had brought her here.
She was bouncing up and down in her seat. All I could do was roll my eyes at her enthusiasm.
We were at our city's old janky roller skating rink. It was more of a punishment than a family outing. Kaylee's eyes gleamed with the prospect of us making memories here as a family, but I already had memories of this place.
My father used to bring us here. My real father. I used to think this place was pure magic.
It was great till the first time I came here with my mom and stepdad. I thought they were finally doing something nice for me, finally rewarding me and treating me like an actual decent human being. Of course, they weren't, it was just another sick form of torture.
They were purposely ruining a memory they knew I cherished.
These places are supposed to be great but they're not when you know that the whole time you're on wheels your parents will try to push you down and make it look like an accident.
However, I'm a smart kid. I'm a clever child who gets good grades and pays attention. I usually know how to get out of extra punishments put in place for their entertainment. When we're at home I have nowhere to run, but outside of the house the public eye was my personal refuge.
If I stay next to Kaylee and hold her hand, they won't touch me, they wouldn't dare risk their precious jewel.
And while I would certainly have a field day seeing my darling sister fall down a couple times and actually experience what a bruise feels like, I know my parents wouldn't be pleased by the sight and they'd likely find some way to use it against me or blame me. Even if I'm not in the same room when it happens. I would honestly be too busy laughing to really care, but as soon as we got home I know all hints of amusement would be gone.
As my family makes their way to pick up their skates I trudge slightly behind them, taking in the retro scenery. It was apparent that they had recently given the walls a new coat of paint but everything else was exactly the same. There was still that funky mixed smell of grease and feet that almost distracted you from the blinding strobe lights.
It had been a while since I've been here, the shoe station bar we waited at to collect our skates almost hit my belly button, and there was a point in time where I couldn't even see over the splintered wood and was stuck looking at the gum hardened under the counter.
Kaylee gives my shoe size saving me from the inevitable awkward interaction with the employee. We sit and as we're pulling the skates on I offer with faux casualness, "I can skate with you if you want, to keep you from falling."
She scoffs clearly struggling to pull the skates on which didn't give me much confidence in how'd she perform, "Are you trying to say I'm a bad skater?"
I couldn't tell if the offense in her voice was playful or genuine so I simply shrug my shoulders looking at my feet to avoid eye contact, "I'm just offering, you're not obligated to say yes."
I knew I had said it with an unintentional hint of manipulation because she immediately rolls her eyes and grabs my hand to pull me up, "Yeah yeah, come on."
We skated past our parents as we made our way to the designated wooden section and their irritation was suffocatingly palpable. I had to admit the sense of power was exhilarating, which I'm sure is what they craved and felt every time they exhibited control over me.
Before I could fully clear the platform I feel myself being pulled back which I couldn't resist or slow down due to the momentum of the wheels and I feel my back slam up against a firm familiar chest.
Kaylee continues to make her way to the appropriate section not realizing I'm no longer by her side. The hairs on my neck raise as I feel my stepdad's hot breath snuggle with my ear, "You're a fucking smart-ass you know that?" The sarcasm was venomous but I didn't have time to process his words before he pushed me forward almost making me topple completely over.
My body remained stiff as I carefully steadied myself and skated the rest of the way refusing to look back and meet their eyes.
I was definitely in for a world of pain tonight. Unless I could somehow convince Kaylee to let me stay in her room for the night. That would at least limit the beating window as Kaylee would be expecting me before her bedtime and would ensure I wouldn't get additional visits throughout the night.
It would most likely lead to a much more harsh punishment the following day but you can't excuse your child from school two days in a row without plausible reasoning and making them simmer in their plans until I got home in the afternoon usually led to them settling on an anticlimactic idea.
As I reach Kaylee she's mid wobble which I quickly steady with a firm hand earning an appreciative grin.
Sometimes I find myself feeling disdain towards her and how easy she has it, but I know it's just petty jealousy, our circumstances aren't her fault, she's completely clueless. Part of it actually makes me love her even more because she's not insane like her parents.
She shifts my grip so I'm now holding her hand and we begin to skate around the large constructed loop. I was weirdly still pretty good at skating, it felt like second nature once I had a few minutes to get the hang of it. I was even able to avoid stumbling for a while as my parents eyes violently bore into my skin from the sidelines creating an unshakable feeling of discomfort. But eventually it got the best of me and I made an excuse to get a small break and get us off the rink.
Their plan was likely to throw off my game so Kaylee could quickly become annoyed with me and decide to skate on her own leaving me to their mercy.
You probably wouldn't know that from just looking at them. Actually, they looked like two normal parents just watching their kids skate but you have to know them to understand everything they display is an illusion.
Every day was filled with little struggles and battles like this. Situations where I had split seconds to outsmart them without pissing them off enough to instantly retaliate.
I knew they couldn't kill me, my disappearance would raise a lot of questions, and even though my mother wasn't all there she wasn't a murderer. So in all honesty the worst they could do is bring me to the brink of death, but that was a place I wanted to avoid.
All I really had to do was stay close to Kaylee until I was eighteen then I could move out and actually start to live my life. I could do that right?
Despite the fact that I had no money, no job, and no place to stay.
I'll be stuck in this hell forever.