It’s hard to even type it here because I have never told anyone. If I do, it would ruin everything. The family would be ruined. My mom would be ruined. I was 9 and my half brother had just moved in with us, as he had been living with his bio dad. My mom was at work and my dad left to the store while my brother and I were at home playing “Ratchet and Clank” when he decided we should make a tent. I was wearing an outfit my grandma had sewed for me with a matching tank top and skort (skirt with built in shorts). I was wearing this outfit, even though I had for the most part out grown it. I don’t remember the details of getting to the point, but I’ll never forget him asking me if it hurts, or the moment when my dad pulled into the driveway so I had to hurry and get my clothes back on while my brother left to the living room. It’s hard because I’m 26 now and my brother has always acted like nothing is wrong but he doesn’t know that I truly hate him.
It hurt to start writing it, and hurt while writing, but as I am writing this and feeling my emotions, I’m glad I did. It feels like I took a nice deep breath to relax. Gave me just a little peace that was much needed. Thanks