As a child I was always alone. Nobody was ever around to comfort me or care for me. My father died when I was two and my mother had to work three different jobs to raise me. Life wasn’t bad, but I wouldn’t classify it as good either. Can you honestly imagine being left alone at the age of six from four in the morning until ten at night? I can. Can you imagine having to cook and clean for the family before your head even reaches the top of the stove? I can. My mother seemed incapable of taking care of me, so I took care of her. No matter how much I did, when mother get home, there was always something wrong. She would find dirt on a clean plate or a mess in a spotless house and then she would punish me. The punishment was never extreme, I’d get slapped a couple of times or get grounded to the house for as long as she saw fit.
One night she got home from work very annoyed and I had not finished the house. Mother got so mad that she threw me through the sliding glass door and pushed me up against the fence. She slapped me across my face and sent me to my room. She didn't feed me for four days and when she did, it was off of dirty plates. She figured that by punishing me, I would learn my lesson. She wouldn’t even let me go to school. When she left for work she would lock me in my room so she knew I couldn’t go anywhere. As soon as she left, I would sneak out through my window which happened to be broken. I would go down to the corner and get something to eat and drink and then sneak back before mother got home.
Once, during my punishment, the phone rang and I sat in my room listening to the message that was left. The call was from the hospital, mother had been in a car accident. The doctor’s don’t know if she will make it. I jumped out of my window and raced down to the hospital. When I got there, the doctors said that everything was fine. How could that be? The call said that she might die. Mother found out that I was there and she sat and screamed at me for two and a half hours. She wanted to know how I got out of my room and how I knew she was at the hospital. She wouldn’t stop yelling until I told her, so I did. When she got home the next day, she put bars across my window and a padlock on my door. She made a small opening in the door for food and water. I got three meals of hot mush and two glasses of water a day.
After three months, she finally let me out because school was starting again. I was only ten. Everyone at school wondered why I had left so suddenly at the end of last term so I told them I had gone on vacation. Of course no one believed me because they had heard that my mother had been in the hospital, but I didn’t really care and no one challenged my story to my face. At school I kept to myself because no one wanted to be around me anyways. I had no friends and truthfully, I didn’t want any. My life probably seems terrible to you, but to me it was normal. That was the way I was raised and I had no other expectations. Then the day came when I was accused of cheating on a test.. I swear I didn’t do it, but my innocence didn’t seem to matter. The school called home to mother and when I got home, I expected trouble. I was right. As soon as I walked in the door, mother was waiting. I was grounded again. This time she fed me two meals of cold mush a day and she kept me from school again. She left me locked in my room all day, every day.
Three months later when she finally allowed me to go back to school I was called to the principal’s office. He told me that I was going to be held back because I had missed too much school. I thought to myself that mother had finally gotten what she wanted. I was miserable. I decided to skip the rest of the year since it didn’t matter if I was there or not. I still don’t know who called CPS, but someone found me and asked me if they could talk to me. They asked me about mother and I told them everything. About two months later the same woman came to the house and took me away. She left me at the house of a really nice lady. Then, surprisingly, mother decided that she wanted me. She took the nice lady to court and told the judge that she was going to be a good mother and that she was going to take care of me. The judge let her take me home. The niceness didn’t last long. This time she began beating me. I was constantly afraid of being around her and everything was blamed on me. Even those things that mother knew she had done herself were somehow my fault. Now I don’t even think of her as mother, I know her as “The Witch”.