I’m not okay.

About 5 years ago my youngest sister was molested by my “mothers” husband. She was only 7 years old at the time and I was 11. As you could imagine I didn’t know what to think at the time. If the claim was true or not, I wasnt there. Of course she told her schools guidance counselor, she needed to tell someone. Next thing I knew, some lady from social services picked me up from school and not knowing what was going on I asked her if she knew. Til this day I really have no idea why she got all in my face about it, I honestly thought she was there because one of my sister’s might have told someone we would get hit. growing up in a Mexican family isn’t easy at all. After a long car ride with my sister’s and the social services lady, we arrived at a place known as Child Haven. There they took pictures of us and fed us pizza . They soon left me and my sisters alone in a room with a big bunk bed to sleep in. Scared out of my mind I asked my 9 year old sister what was going on and why we where here. She told me something I didn’t know how to handle, that my “mothers” husband molested my youngest sister. I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until my sister yelled for me to breath . What! Are you kidding me? After spending a day or so at that place, they found us a foster parent to care for us I guess . To my knowledge it wasn’t much care, but I shouldve been more thankful a stranger is willing to deal with us while the authority figures figure out what to do with us. I didn’t really know what happened in the court room, but to my understanding they gave my “mother” two options, her husband or us. My already hurting heart dropped when she no longer had custody of us. Instead my aunt Josie did. How could she be so cold ?

With her husband being proven guilty, he skipped out to Mexico to escape the fate that he well deserved. As soon as My “mother” got back custody of me and my sisters, she dragged us to the shit hole pueblo(town) her husband resided in. I really didn’t care what happened because I didn’t even know where my head was. I didn’t really understand my “mothers” logic because within the time of a year we had moved back and forth from Mexico and the United states . No more than 20 and no less than 10 times, so I’m not really sure how many times. The drive to Mexico was about 13 hours, 13 hours I will never get back. Imagine spending that much time in a car times 10. wow. And every time we left it was because they got into a fight. I always felt embarrassed of my “mother” when relatives where around because in the back of my mind I knew they thought she was dumb as hell for doing what she does.

The relationship between me and my “mother” was going downhill. And fast. Soon my “mother” was pregnant with her first son by that man, and she refused to seek medical attention from Mexico, she would travel to the US to get it. With one of her absences, I was left alone with not the youngest sister but my other sister in Mexico with that MONSTER . I really had no idea what he was capable of until it happened.

It was maybe midnight and I was on the phone with my former boyfriend, I was about to be 14 years old in the next few months, so innocent I was. Anyways I was laying there in the dark on the sorry excuse for a living room couch we had talking on the phone and my “mothers” husband creeps up and starts trying to kiss me. It disgusted me and frozen with shock all I could do was turn my head so he wouldn’t touch my lips. I remember cursing at him to get away, but instead he started touching my breasts, as I struggled to keep his hands off me, I managed to stand up to run to my room. Before I could reach My room he grabbed me by the waist and held me back, for some strange reason I couldn’t scream or make any noise possible, kicking and hitting him to let me go he started rubbing my butt, any part of my body he touched I felt as if it was on fire, I felt disgusting. I guess regretting what he did, he let go of me and went to his room, I hurried to get to my room and blocked My door with anything I could put in front of it. I stood there crying,praying to God that he wouldn’t try to come in my room and hurt me or my sister.

The next day, I thought about telling my sister but I had a crazy thought and told myself not to tell her because she wouldn’t believe me. I stayed in my room all day and didn’t dare to come out. My “mothers” husband still had the dignity to come and knock on my door telling me to get up and clean and make breakfast for his sorry ass. I couldn’t even believe it. Feeling that I had a reason to rebel, I yelled back that he should fuck himself and do it himself. He laughed a sarcastic laugh that made me burn inside. I had the urge to get up and stab him to death. But I felt to weak to do anything. He later budged my door open and poked his head in telling me that he called my “mother” to tell her I disobeyed him. I screamed back that he forgot to tell her he tried to rape me. Again he laughed and I could feel my face flush red. I stood up and yelled ” chinga mucho a tu puta perra Madre!!!!” or in English go fuck yourself you ************.I felt so alive, he smurked and told me I wouldn’t say that again. I said it again and even louder and angrier, he came in and slapped me, so I decided to hit back, we started fist fighting. 30 year old vs a 13 year old. I mean could he get any lower. He hit me so hard, everything went black. He turned away to leave, as he had his back to me I picked up a candle, not just any candle, this candle was one of those decorative ones and it was literally as big as a brick. I threw it as hard as I could, I hit him right in the lower back. Idk if you have ever been hit there but its quite painfull. He turned around and cursed me out. He rushed to the phone like a little ***** and dialed my “mothers” number. As soon as she picked he started yelling lies saying that I had my boyfriend over and that the house was a pigstye which it was because I refused to clean. Haha, I was just laughing at the site of him snitching to my “mother”. That made him furious. I thought to myself thought I should have been the angry one. My “mother” yelling at me over the phone finally stopped talking so I could say something. I started tell ing her that he tried to rape me and everything my youngest sister said was true. I finally believed all of it. He was a disgusting pedophile. She didn’t say anything. I don’t think she knew what to say. I asked her to come back and to leave this asshole. Without hesitation my mother yelled at me and told me not to call him an asshole.What ! That’s when the tears started pouring out. I felt betrayed. How could she even after I told her what he did. I could see the big smile her husband had. I almost died. I hated her more than I hated him. My own “mother” didn’t believe me, she chose him again. She chose him again just kept reapiting in my head. Me her first born, me who has been with her through every thing. Me, why me ? That’s when I started to go crazy, and decided to punch a mirror. The blood dripping down my hand represented me spiritually and emotionally ripping my self away from my mother. I had never hated anyone so much. It hurt to even say “mom”, I wanted to call her Satan instead.

Every thing hurt. Physically and emotionally, everything hurt. I thought about suicide many times and have even attempted it twice. Once with painkillers and alcohol. I seriously thought I died until I woke up with a serious headache and nausea. The second time I tried hanging myself as I slowly faded my scarf untied and dropped me to the floor, unconscious. To this day I have never forgiven my “mother” aka Lucifer. She still chooses him over me and my sister’s, and had her 2 kid by him. I am truly disgusted with her.

Lately I have been doing drugs and drinking alcohol to control my depression, ultimately it doesn’t really help. I am seriously reconsidering suicide and doing it right this time. I stopped cutting because me family thinks I’m crazy, which I kind of think I am. I haven’t seen my “mothers” husband for 3 years now and I swore to myself that if I did I would murder him, he is the reason my mom hates and he is the reason for everything bad I have ever done in my life. I can’t even be alone with my male family members without thinking they want to rape me. I can’t take it anymore. Me and mother always fight and never apologize to each other. Not even my father wants me. Why couldn’t I have been aborted, I pray to God every day that he takes me.  Nothing in my life ever lasts. It’s always up and down,ever since the 6th grade I have been to at least 8 different schools. I can never become close with anyone because I end up moving. I’m thankful that I have great social skills but I’m so lonely and I don’t think my sister’s understand how I feel. I never let them know how I feel because I want them to think I’m strong, but I  truly the weakest person alive. There is not a day when the incident doesn’t cross mind, and it hurts.