Prologue
In life, we all go through ups, down's. Good time, bad time, and theirs times when life just absolutely sucks. But we keep going and there will be a point when you will realize, it will only make you stronger.
This is my story, of survival, maybe or you could just call it “my journey”
A quote from Oprah Winfrey “ “Where there is no struggle, there is no strength.” here is my journey and struggle and I only hope you have no sympathy, but respect for what I and many other people have gone through and heal from knowing that someone else has been through the hard times you have been through, and at some Point when you find yourself, you figure out every, heartache, every tough time or bump in the road it will all make you stronger.
It seems you never truly know how strong you are until you go through something devastating.
Sexual , Physical, verbal, mental, abuse. Or anything traumatic. Loosing someone close to yo. A friend, A grandparent, sibling, Parent, or even a close co- worker.
You go through so much stuff. Life throws you so many detours in life. I have figured out that you go through so much in life because it really molds you into the person you are today. It only makes you stronger and dose not make you weaker. I remember I used to be so scared of fun houses. You know the ones that are scary, with clowns, monsters. I would cry, and hide behind my mama. But eventually you go through it and fearless.


One
Anger is never without a reason,
but seldom a good one - Benjamin Franklin


It is cold outside about this time a year, in Huntsville Alabama, in my tiny kitchen. I write from my computer in my kitchen. I don’t know why, but that is my favorite place to write from, my kitchen. Its the warmest place in my house. Aah there nothing like a nice hot cup of coffee and my computer to get the writing flowing.
Its pretty dark outside, my dogs enjoy running around the house like a bunch of “animals”. Iv always loved animals. Its sort of a funny thing I became a vegetarian at only fifteen. I sall a video of an animal getting killed and I just though about in my mind”what if they did that to me, would I like it”? We have a black lag we call oldie. He has big ears that hang down from his head and long legs like a giraffe , that he can run for miles, (I would imagine). We’ve had him for three years. Then we have our other dog Sasha. We’ve had her ever since I was probably five. My mother brought her home one day, when someone was going to put her to sleep. She reeks of wet dog as it just rained, and shes chubby with a small head. Then we had our chawowa, spike. Hes about a year old. He had the longest ears iv ever seen on a dog, I think he could fly away with those ears! Hes pretty small, smaller than our eleven cats. Why do I talk about my dogs? I don’t know why. To set the mood I suppose. Its kinda a bitter story, at times it may be humorous.

Why call this book confessions? Is it n because theirs things in this that no one has ever heard. I don’t know just sounded like an interesting tittle. I guess.

I grew up in a blue house, in which my grandparents had the dream to built in 2000. I remember that era in time when we where building it. It took about two years so (in truth it wasn’t done until 2002 or 2003, sometime).
I remember when we first moved in. It was pretty empty. We had running water, the couches, our bed, and our kitchen table. It was kinda cool being a child.
My sister got the biggest room upstairs. She had the bright yellow one with the candy apple curtains. I remember being jealous because her room was bigger than mine. It always felt as if she always got nicer stuff than me.
My step sister got the “guest room”. It was originally the guest room, but it later was turned into her room . It was second largest to my sisters lea room, with light brown walls. My grandmother bought her such a large bed though it took up most of the room. With just enough to fit her dresser, and also the television.
My room was the smallest. It was also light brown. My walls where rather plain with two pictures. My grandmother had this picture of this kid in this cowboy hat, urinating. It was a joke, because I had blatter problems. I also had a picture of a baby, with my name and date- of- birth on I my grandmothers aunt or something like that hand made it. (lea also had one).
My room had my bed, and a small dresser. I had the most extra space in my room though, so we all played in our room.
We lived up stairs, so my grandparents lived upstairs. I always remember when we would play, my grandmother would holler at us “ Stop running up there”. Or she would say “ calm down, you sound like a herd of elephants”. It got humors.
My grandmother was very stern. I dint give up my bodle until I was four. She just said one day, to my parents “hes too damn old for a bodle”. It caused my front teeth to rot out later so I waled around until the time I was about ten without my top teeth.
Another time I can think of is when I was about five or six, we where at a restraunt, my grandparents, parents, me, and my little sister lea. I was just in a :bad mood that day my grandmother says.
I dint want to eat anything. I said no to everything. When we all started to eat I dint eat. My grandmother being the stern women she is, sent me out to the car to sit. I sat there the whole time. My grand,other tells the story and says she ate extra slow. My grandfather wanted to go and tried to rush her to hurry up. That’s just an example, of how stern of a women my grandmother is.
I remember when my dad rand mother split. Me and my sister where devastated.
My dad remarried to my stepmother named nickie.
When he got re married it was weird for us. It was me, mom,lea, and dad, and now it was changed. I guess as I child you don’t like change. We where to call nickie mom. It was weird, kids don’t like change. Kinda like you don’t like loosing your first blanket, or the kid dosn't like taking the noddle away.


I promised my self that when I found “the one” id stay with that person. Divorce is just too painful on children. I would never would never put myself through that pain.
I remember very vividly the day he told us he was to marry. They had met over the internet, and a week, or so after talking though an online dating site, he asked her if she wanted to marry him. I was opposed to it, at first.
I just thought, why marry someone you don’t personally know. You don’t know who this person really is.
He expected us to call he mom. In my mind I had a mom. I did it to make him happy.

She had a daughter (my step sister) elanna. Elanna wasn’t a very pleasant person though. She was cruel to us. It was a;always “Timothy did this', or “lea did that”. She enjoyed getting us in trouble. She was twisted and believed she was above us. Shed always call me by my first and middle name. “Timothy James” always when she got mad. I always thought it was only alright for parents to call you by your middle name. You know when your in trouble.
The only reason she ever did that is because my “bitchy” step mother told her she could.

Thats another thing, my stepmother always treated elanna better than me and my sister. She was like a saint, or a “princess”. She could do no wrong. Anything we had she had to have. When she got something we dint have, shed brag. “look what I have and you don't”.
My grandparents raised me and my younger sister lea .

My grandmother was so funny, we enjoyed to sit around and hear the stories of my foolish dad as a child. We liked to to hear the what wacky, things he did as a child.
When my stepsister would visit us for like a weekend at my grandmother (we dint live with my father) my grandmother didn’t let her treat us badly.
I remember one specific time when my grandmother really stood up to our cruel step sister. She had been picking on lea and lea fought back. She called elanna a whole bunch of names. My sister elanna snitched, she did that a lot, shed turn the tables around to make it look like we where the bad people, when in truth she was usually the instigator, and went and cried to nicki and my dad. My grandmother told her to shut up and stop bitching. She said “ you brought this on yourself always bulling everyone else” She also said” When you in my house you’ll be pleasant, when your over there ill deal with it also”.
It kinda amused me and lea. Amused us that she could no longer bully us. That we where free. Though it dint last long it was sorta victory.

My stepmother continued to bully me and my sister. She always seemed to make it known that I was not “ blood related” to my father. I remember she was for some reason naming parts of my dads family and I said “ Why am I not in it”. Her reply was so cruel and cold. It shocked me to the worst extent.
She said snottily “ Because your not a holtz”.
My father always told me “just because your not blood to me, you’ll always be my son”. I thought of him as “ my father” but I wasn’t thought that way. He sited with her, its painful to loose someone you , love to some bitch who thinks shes better than you.
Pardon my language, but she just treated me and my sister so bad that that’s what I think of her. Although our past, when I talk to her im respectful. You learn in life that you cant hold a grudge against everyone who’s done you wrong. You’ll just be miserable your while life.
My dad claims he never remembered her or him treating us like this. He was on morphine so it sounds about right. He was unpleasant to us too. I recall him being so mean to me. He would get mad and he would pop me in the face. Once he told me “if I ever flinched while he was holding a knife hes cut me”. He chased me out of the house with a butcher knife. Iv always had a fear of weapons.
Another time I recall can recall is when I was running around the house in my underwear (which may I add I was not permitted to do) my dad got really mad. He said
“I told you, your not aloud to fucking run around the house in your underwear. He mad me strip down to my underwear and kicked me out of the house for the rest of the afternoon in my underwear.

He left me out there for about ten, or fifteen minutes.
My dad, my dad, my stepmother where so cruel to me and my sister lea. We still fought, but I think we still got through it together.
We got through it together. I think that's a true brother sister bond. Like we knew each other forever.
My dad and me later reconciled and iv finally come to peace with it all.
He was later diagnosed with bipolar ism. Which explains a lot of the was he treated us.
I have a good relationship with lea. We talk, laugh. I love my sister. I will talk about how our relationship is tested.
Later it got to the point, my father treating me so wrong that my grandmother finally got so fed up that she allowed me to live with my mother in Texas.
Me and my mother already had plans for me to move in with her after that school year. This was just quicker and easier.
I dint know what battles where in store for me later. I really dint. It would be an up hill battle.

I guess it really wasn’t better as I though it would be, but I dint know it at the time.
My strength would really be tested later, in life. It would really be tested by god in the hardest way. I guess this was only the beginning of my hard times.


Two:
Never look down on anybody unless you're helping them up-The Reverend Jesse Jackson, American civil rights leader


My grandmother moved me down to gainesville Texas. I hadn’t seen my mother in probably in like two or three years, so at first it was awkward. My mother said “ hi how was your plane ride”real bubbly.
“Fine” I answered.
My mother then began to explain the rules of my uncles house and
I just thought to myself how dare you not come and visit me for three years and be nice to me. It really bothered me. Looking back on that now I know my mother couldn’t of visit me in Alabama because she dint have the money.
My mother had moved to Texas about three years prior. She had worked at a minimun wage job as a nurses aid at the local nursing home.
She had been living in a small room at my great uncle Boyds house.
At first me and my mother shared the room, for about a month or maybe two. She had been saving up for her own place for a while. We found a all bills paid two room apartment. My mother was a little better than my dad.
We fought, a lot. Sometimes really bad and violent. My biological grandmother would always take up for my mother. Even when she was wrong.
My mother and me never really got along. It always seemed there was never a day we could go without one of us, me or her would start an argument. One argument would turn into a fight.
My mother wasn't a very good mother. Ever. Yeah she took care of me. That's not all a mother should do. She always hit me, when id upset her. Whether it was with her hand and other objects. If there was a broom around it would be with a broom. If it was a knife it would be with a knife. She of course never cut me but shed have it to my face or throat.
She said one time when we where arguing “ shut you fuckin mouth up or ill cut you”. She never cut me. She would have been to scared to do it, but she did threaten.
There where a few fights that I did defend myself and hit my mother back. I remember my mother punched me and I slapped her in her face calling her a bitch. It felt good to fight back. I did apologize as she did too.

I think that taking care of me isn't the only thing she should show me support and love.
I think the reason she always seemed to feel to do that is because her mother never did that for her.
She never would say congratulations when I would win a contest, or win a medal e.t.c.
She did give attention to my sister though, it was always something like, god for you baby, or you deserve it. Everyone wanted to see lea plat soft ball.
Makes me think of that one Brady bunch episode, marsh, Marsha, marsh. In my case lea, lea, lea. I just felt so invisible through my whole childhood.
The only thing thing that ever made me feel un invisible (if that is a word) is my writings. When I would place in writing contest. I remember one contest was a black history month contest. I wrote a poem of the same name, and dint win but I won a medal. I felt so good. Everyone was congratulating me, I knew I loved writing and knew I would make it in the writing industry.
My mother never raised any of her kids. Neither me or my sister. My brother josh nor sister misty. She never did anything for my brothers Mathew or my brother chis.
I think the reason she never did raise any of her kids might have a factor to do with the fact that she had her first baby, my eldest sister misty at the young tender age of only thirteen.
I guess we all make mistakes in life, but her mistake effected all of us in a big way.
My mother also did a lot of drugs while she was still pregnant with my brother Christopher. She did drugs until she was seven months pregnant. She claimed that she truly dint know she was pregnant until she was seven months along, but I really don't believe that.
As a cause of the many different drugs she did while she was pregnant with him he has many multiple mental disabilities such as , bipolar disorder, and ad hd, add, borderline retarded, e.t.c.
My mother worked nights at a nursing home. So we had plenty, and plenty of space. Id be at school by the time shed get home. Shed be sleeping by the time id get home.
It may sound taboo, but really made it work. School was like going to my own personnel hell.
People where so cruel to me. I’m gay (though I wasn’t out at that time) they where mean to me. It was pretty noticeable that I was gay. All the signs where there, the way I talked, the way I walked, acted E.T.C.
They would say things like, go suck a cock fagot, or your a fucking flaming fagot.
They where so mean to me. I remember one specific time. There was this boy, well just call him Charlie from now on. I remember charlie was cruel not only to me, but to everyone else. Charlie liked to push me down the hall, and hit me. The one specific time that has really stuck with me and haunt me was I was waiting for the teachers to call my bus and he sat down right next me, so coldly. He was in band and used drum sticks to beat me in the back of the head. He did so several times. It made the back of my neck so red and it really hurt.
He did all this so coldly without emotions. His eyes where like white when I looked into them. No color in his eyes what so ever. He said this doing this “ this is what you get stupid fag”.
I Said to him “stop that hurts, why are you doing this”? Because “I don’t like you stupid fag”. He then started to pop me in my face, the whole time while saying “ stop hitting yourself, stop hitting yourself, butt fucker”.
They finally informed me that my bus arrived, and l;like a prisoner released from prison after what felt like twenty years.
I cried alone in the back seat where no one could see me through the whole bus ride home. When I got home I cried until I fell asleep. I just cant seem to understand why he is just so unpleasant. He is one of the most evil souls on this planet, that I have ever met.
That incident has stuck with me for ever. I had bad dreams, about it and him. I always wonder when I think about him “why is he so mean”? I think something happened to people like him. Mean people. I think no one loved him when he was little and it traumatized him.

After that day I seemed to stay away from him. Whenever I sall him in the halls id run away. Id walk really fast nervousness, id hide behind a teacher.
I felt like a coward. I wish I fought back, but I thought he would hurt me.


But he was not the only cruel bully I had. In physical education there where also a group of boys that tourtered me for the way I was. They would verbally assult me, as physically. They liked to push me.
They would pants me. Pantsing someone is referring to, pulling there p;ants down to there ankle. It was so embarrassing that no one seemed to like me.
Its sorta a blur what this group of boys exactly did. That part of my life is a blur. Kinda like seeing an old movie.
I remember one specific time when there where this one mean group of boys who where sexually harassing me. They where pushing me and sexually insulting me. I remember running to the boys bathroom and crying in there.
I lied to my teacher I had period and, told some kind of lie to go to the bathroom, I stayed in there and cried.
I hated school, sometimes id miss my bus in the morning, on purpose. Id “accidentally” miss my bus. Or id get ill and just lie to get out of school.
School was like my dads house. Another hell for me. Although it did get better.


I got a big group of friends. Eventually I had one friend specifically named Michelle, everyone was always so mean to her. This was into 8th grade, or something like that, and I was really the only one who was truly nice to her.
Maybe it was because she was hugely over weight about twenty pounds the size she should have been at her age3, and cheap bad makeup put on to cover her acne. And her hair looked like it hasn't been brushed since fifth grade.
She was the 2nt person id told, (next to my older sister) that I was gay. She later confessed that she was a lesbian. I remember one day she I upset her because we got into an argument. She threatened to tell everyone my secret. I really dint believe her, because she dint have many friends. The next day she did the deed. I was at lunch and my good friend told me what she had done.
I guess I had some really good friends, and they wouldn’t talk to her, so I felt good about that.
School wasn’t the only place where people held being gay against me.
It sounds horrible, it was. Home was also a place where I wasn’t safe from criticism. My younger sister lea was probably the third or maybe fourth person I told.
I remember the exact night id told her. I was still living in Texas She said tell me a secret and ill tell you one. So I thought that this was a good time to come out to someone.
I wrote her a note, because I dint feel conformable verbally telling her. I wrote that “I cant get married legally” and she stated “your gay”.
She acted surprised, but she promised she would never tell anyone.
One day when we where in an argument she said “well ill just tell mom your little secret.
To me she was no better than the way my dad treated me, or those mean boys at school.

I remember the first time I had a hunch I was gay. I had a friend named Cody that I went over to his house to hang out. I dint really know I was gay, but like many other people I had “thoughts “ of it.
He asked me” are you gay”? I answered “I don’t know, I have thoughts of it”. He then said “close your eyes and trust me”. He kissed me and asked “ do you like it” I said “yeah”.
I guess that was my first experience. I think I always knew I was gay.


My older sister misty moved in with me and my mother about June of 2007 because she needed a place to stay. She was kinda mean to me at first. She had a son, my nephew Anthony.
I remember when we got into an argument. My now ex sister – law- Cristina started a fight between me and misty.
I was upset that my sister said something hurtful about me. Christina had talked to me and I denied being upset about it. I don't exactly know or even remember for that matter why I don’t tell her that I was upset about what misty had did. I can't even remember what she said so I know now that it wasn't relevant. I think why I dint say I was upset is because I dint trust Christina and just dint want conflict.
Iv always been like that “if it doesn’t bother me much I don't say something”.
The conflict wasn't that big. We yelled I stayed away and it was over. I love my sister misty and have the most respect for her. I guess that’s what real family is. The family that you have that you yell at one second and be alright with the next. Christina was never family anyways.

My sister misty dated a young man I remember his name was johnny. He was a sex offender was scronny, but very tall. He told us that it was a seventeen year old girl, and that he served time in a prison for it.
My mother dint think it was so bad I guess. In the all bills paid apartment we lived in there was a strict rule on sex offenders. The strict rule was don’t have them here. My sister wasn't even allowed to be there because it was only as two room and there where four people living there.
My sister continued to see johnny and would bring him home to have sexual actions with him. I remember when my sister was out with my mother that my nephew Anthony was being bad and dint want to listen to Johnny and she said to him “you better start listening to me or ill give you a spanking”. Johnny did just that.
Though it was only a spanking I felt obligated to tell someone. I Dint. My reason for not is it wasn't a beating, it was only a spanking. He dint do anything wrong I guess.
The truth is is that iv been hit by someone my whole life. Its wrong to hit kids. I remember my grandpa used his belt on us whenever we made him mad. Whether it was bad grades, or accidentally breaking something in the house, he would say “get your ass in my room and bed over".
Always that same leather belt. It hurt so much. My sister lea never got hit with the belt. No always with the hand. Iv always felt like my grandparents always liked my sister more than me.
Shed get nicer things than me, or shed get more attention, or what ever it was I always felt invisible. I always felt as though I was unimportant, to my grandparents.

I at that point made a vow that if I was to ever have children that I would not hit them or let anyone else hit them.
The apartment manager's eventually found out about misty and Johnny and we got evicted.


We had to find somewhere else to live. It was the middle of February. We found the cheapest place we could find. It was a five hundred dollar a month three room trailer.
We dint have to pay a deposit if we cleaned it up ourselves. The landlord told us that the people that lived in it prior to us just up and left it the way it was. I remember when he was showing it to us. We drove up to a rock drive way to this less than handsome house. There was a relay good looking man there. His name was Jeremy and he was the land lore. He said when he walked us into the house “this is it it ain’t much, but I wont charge you any firsts month rent or deposit if you clean it up yourself”. “Okay well take it”my mother said real sweet like”.
This place was disgusting. It had dead cockroaches and bugs in every which place. There was alive cockroaches too. There was trash and the rat problem was out of control. We cleaned and cleaned for weeks on end. It was finally finished and liveable.

My mother's friend Connie gave me a dog. He was my first dog. I remember when we got him I was just so damn exited to have my first dogy. I remember the day we picked him up he was so small.
He is a black lab cutie named Oddie. Not so small anymore. I named him Oddie after my love of the classic cartoon Garfield. I still have him today.

Iv always had a love for animals. Iv been a vegetarian since I can remember.
I became a vegetarian when I was about fifteen. I watched a video on YouTube of an an a goat being killed for fur. I was horrified. They tourchered it. They first beat the goat until it count move and put there foot on his neck and snapped it.
I thought to myself, “this is so horrible of them to do. How could they do this. Its a living thing, it has just as much as a right to live as we humans do.
I tried to eat meat again but I threw up. I told my mother “im a vegetarian now“.

Well me being the meat lover I am my mother said I was damn crazy. We always thought that my sister Lea would be the first to become a vegetarian
It seems humans are the most destructive beings on earth. We where the reasons for all earths problems.
Hitler killing the Jews. We enslaved the African Americans and we cause global warnings. We humans destroy the beautiful forests, and we kill defenseless goats. And other animals too.

Maybe this feelings I feel ab out animals come from me and my sister lea being mistreated by my step mother Nickie and step sister Elanna. I can relate to the animals.


Its kinda funny, even if I see a bug on the floor I have to pick him up and put him outside. I just feel that these animals have a right to be alive just as we do.

I even today am still a vegetarian. People always ask me the same question. How healthy are you? Its really a stereo type that all vegetarians are unhealthy. I’m really healthy. My food consist of. In the morning I eat a protein shake. Lunch I eat peanut butter sandwich. Cottage cheese, and chips. For dinner I eat a veggie burger or veggies.
It depends how you eat really. Im healther and happier. I remember one time I was eating a viggie sandwich with all veggies on it. My mom said “that needs meat on it , don't you think”? She asked jokenly. I jenesly, and smart alecly,andwered back well your burger need's some vegtables on it, don't you think. Its kinda funny really.


Four:
Just as despair can come to one only from other human beings, hope, too, can be given to one only by other human beings.
- Elie Weisel


In about May of 2007 my mother said that she was going to allow my brother Chris. Chris was the child that my mother sis drugs until she was seven months pregnant.
Chris wanted to come and live with us because he said that “ he was tired of living with my biological dad Matt. My mom told me about his mental disabilities and asked me and my sister Misty to be nice and explained that he may do things that he doesn’t know he does.
I talked to him a few times before he moved down from Arizona, to Texas. He asked me many questions. The weirdest question he asked me was about sex. Although I wasn't “ out” as a gay person I guess that it was obvious that I was gay.

I remember one time when he called when my mother was out for the day and he wanted to talk to me. I remember specificity thing we talked about. He asked “ would you have sex with a boy”. I didn’t know if that was a question that I should answer. I didn’t even know if my brother should even ask me a question like that. Awkwardly Then he said “okay” in the creepiest way possible. I knew he had problems and sometimes count help some of the things he says. I just kept my mouth shut about a what he said.
I thought to myself “why make something worst than what it is.” May be it was just a question because I sound gay. So I let it go and I didn’t mention it to my mother. I wonder maybe if I had she would’ve stopped him from moving to Texas, but I didn’t say anything.

My mother told me that he was moving to where we lived in a month. I remember feeling so exited about him moving in with us. He was my big brother and the only big brother I had was my mean older brother Josh.
I count take the excitement when me and my mother arrived at the airport to meet my brother. I remember we waited for him for almost an hour.
He finally arrived about hour after waiting in the crowded, hot airport lobby.
He ran and gave me and mt mother hugs and greeting's We Gathered all his bags and luggage. He brought exactly two bags. One was a bag of close and a bag of personal things such as deodorant, tooth brush, E.T.C
Talking to him was so awkwardly . He only liked talking about sex, drugs, and vulgar things. I was raised by my grandmother before I moved in with my mother at the age of eleven, so we didn’t use vulgar language. The only places I ever heard curse words was when my grandparents where upset, my mother and sister cussed, and the kids at school cursed, but other wise I was not allowed to curse and I never had the urge to use vulgar language.
Me and Misty would talk and we would talk about how weird he was. He only thought about sex. When he was alone he would watch sex and masturbated all the time. He liked to talk about it too. He would say “I masturbated today and it was good”. Or he would go into detail about the porn he would be watching. Me and my sister Misty found him extremely creepy.

He would ask me to go around town and walk around with him. He caused trouble everywhere he was. The first incident he had “in trouble” was when he started to work for the man next door who he worked for for about a week and asked his payment early and it really ticked the guy off and the guy took sixty dollars out of his pockets and the Hispanic man who could not speak English properly threw the money at my brother and said a few curse words in Spanish and told my brother to never show his face around here again.
I remember exactly what my brother spent the money, he went to the local pond shop and spent the money on a large hinting knife. Long story short my mother took the knife away and grounded him.

When my mother was severely upset with Chris she would “beat on him” per day. I remember when my mother would get really mad and shed slap him, and kick him, shed punch him and he would just stand there and take it and she would call him names.
My mom left it up to me to watch my brother at night when she was working. I remember one time when my mother banned any kind of pornographic pictures or videos in the house and he would beg me to let him watch it.
He would say “ please I won't tell mom. Its our little secret. Id at some point finally give in and tell him he could watch it for five or ten minutes.
I would tell my mother when she got home from work.
My mother was not very kind or understanding with my brother. She would beta him when she got really upset with him.
I remember one time my mom got mad that my brother went behind her back and she started to slap him back and forth from his face, and she pushed him to the front porch. Saying “ Hit me motherfucker”. She kicked him and finally pushed him off of our porch. My brother Chris being six feet of coarse caught himself.
I think it was sorta insensitive of her to beat him when she was upset. He did have problems and sometimes wasn't aware of what he was doing or aware that what he was doing was wrong. Even though I would never defend my brother because of what he did to me in which I will explain later in the book.

My brother did other things too. He started hanging out with an African American prostitute. I thought she was sweet as can be, the few times I met her. My mother did not approve of his new “relationship”. She strictly forbidden him to hang around with her.
This women had mental problems, like Chris. My mother told me that she was put in a mental institution every other week.
Long story short it was a bi fight one day. Chris told this women that my mom blew his whole disability check on me and her and she told Chris that she didn’t want to hang out with him, and she broke it off.

One after noon on a Saturday afternoon my mother got a call from the police station and they told her that Chris was in jail and that she would have to pick him up. My mother asked “ what did he do, this time”? They refused to tell her and told her that she needed to come and pick him up.
She took me with her, since it was Saturday and she didn’t want to leave me at home and she took me with her.
The drive to the police station was long and it being summer was really hot. We arrived at the police station and the tall police man in his blue uniform took us back to the cell my brother was in and let him out.
The whole time the police officer was leading us back to the small room to have a conference, my mother was living my brother a nasty look.
The police officer sat us down and explained that Chris was caught steeling from the local Gainesville supermarket. He explained that there would be a fine of 300 dollars or he would go to jail for six months.
They let him out and when we arrived at home it was hell for Chris. My mom started to slap him and punched him in the face. Just to sum it up she beat him. She asked him why he did it his answer was that a group of crackheads offered him crack if he went in to steel from the store.

My brother's actions was stressing me and my mother out. My mom got to the point where her hair was falling out.
She went to a therapist and they told her it was because she was so stressed and tens about Chris's beaver.
I got to the point where it got difficult for me to urinate. I would have to push it out to the point of it hurting. I also sat in a hot bath and I would wait till I urinated.
He had me so scared, because he told me that he would hurt me if I “snicked” on him if I told my mom about the stuff he would pull when she was away at work.

Later I would learn what he was really capable of.
Four:
Just as despair can come to one only from other human beings, hope, too, can be given to one only by other human beings.
- Elie Weisel


In about May of 2007 my mother said that she was going to allow my brother Chris. Chris was the child that my mother sis drugs until she was seven months pregnant.
Chris wanted to come and live with us because he said that “ he was tired of living with my biological dad Matt. My mom told me about his mental disabilities and asked me and my sister Misty to be nice and explained that he may do things that he doesn’t know he does.
I talked to him a few times before he moved down from Arizona, to Texas. He asked me many questions. The weirdest question he asked me was about sex. Although I wasn't “ out” as a gay person I guess that it was obvious that I was gay.

I remember one time when he called when my mother was out for the day and he wanted to talk to me. I remember specificity thing we talked about. He asked “ would you have sex with a boy”. I didn’t know if that was a question that I should answer. I didn’t even know if my brother should even ask me a question like that. Awkwardly Then he said “okay” in the creepiest way possible. I knew he had problems and sometimes count help some of the things he says. I just kept my mouth shut about a what he said.
I thought to myself “why make something worst than what it is.” May be it was just a question because I sound gay. So I let it go and I didn’t mention it to my mother. I wonder maybe if I had she would’ve stopped him from moving to Texas, but I didn’t say anything.

My mother told me that he was moving to where we lived in a month. I remember feeling so exited about him moving in with us. He was my big brother and the only big brother I had was my mean older brother Josh.
I count take the excitement when me and my mother arrived at the airport to meet my brother. I remember we waited for him for almost an hour.
He finally arrived about hour after waiting in the crowded, hot airport lobby.
He ran and gave me and mt mother hugs and greeting's We Gathered all his bags and luggage. He brought exactly two bags. One was a bag of close and a bag of personal things such as deodorant, tooth brush, E.T.C
Talking to him was so awkwardly . He only liked talking about sex, drugs, and vulgar things. I was raised by my grandmother before I moved in with my mother at the age of eleven, so we didn’t use vulgar language. The only places I ever heard curse words was when my grandparents where upset, my mother and sister cussed, and the kids at school cursed, but other wise I was not allowed to curse and I never had the urge to use vulgar language.
Me and Misty would talk and we would talk about how weird he was. He only thought about sex. When he was alone he would watch sex and masturbated all the time. He liked to talk about it too. He would say “I masturbated today and it was good”. Or he would go into detail about the porn he would be watching. Me and my sister Misty found him extremely creepy.

He would ask me to go around town and walk around with him. He caused trouble everywhere he was. The first incident he had “in trouble” was when he started to work for the man next door who he worked for for about a week and asked his payment early and it really ticked the guy off and the guy took sixty dollars out of his pockets and the Hispanic man who could not speak English properly threw the money at my brother and said a few curse words in Spanish and told my brother to never show his face around here again.
I remember exactly what my brother spent the money, he went to the local pond shop and spent the money on a large hinting knife. Long story short my mother took the knife away and grounded him.

When my mother was severely upset with Chris she would “beat on him” per day. I remember when my mother would get really mad and shed slap him, and kick him, shed punch him and he would just stand there and take it and she would call him names.
My mom left it up to me to watch my brother at night when she was working. I remember one time when my mother banned any kind of pornographic pictures or videos in the house and he would beg me to let him watch it.
He would say “ please I won't tell mom. Its our little secret. Id at some point finally give in and tell him he could watch it for five or ten minutes.
I would tell my mother when she got home from work.
My mother was not very kind or understanding with my brother. She would beta him when she got really upset with him.
I remember one time my mom got mad that my brother went behind her back and she started to slap him back and forth from his face, and she pushed him to the front porch. Saying “ Hit me motherfucker”. She kicked him and finally pushed him off of our porch. My brother Chris being six feet of coarse caught himself.
I think it was sorta insensitive of her to beat him when she was upset. He did have problems and sometimes wasn't aware of what he was doing or aware that what he was doing was wrong. Even though I would never defend my brother because of what he did to me in which I will explain later in the book.

My brother did other things too. He started hanging out with an African American prostitute. I thought she was sweet as can be, the few times I met her. My mother did not approve of his new “relationship”. She strictly forbidden him to hang around with her.
This women had mental problems, like Chris. My mother told me that she was put in a mental institution every other week.
Long story short it was a bi fight one day. Chris told this women that my mom blew his whole disability check on me and her and she told Chris that she didn’t want to hang out with him, and she broke it off.

One after noon on a Saturday afternoon my mother got a call from the police station and they told her that Chris was in jail and that she would have to pick him up. My mother asked “ what did he do, this time”? They refused to tell her and told her that she needed to come and pick him up.
She took me with her, since it was Saturday and she didn’t want to leave me at home and she took me with her.
The drive to the police station was long and it being summer was really hot. We arrived at the police station and the tall police man in his blue uniform took us back to the cell my brother was in and let him out.
The whole time the police officer was leading us back to the small room to have a conference, my mother was living my brother a nasty look.
The police officer sat us down and explained that Chris was caught steeling from the local Gainesville supermarket. He explained that there would be a fine of 300 dollars or he would go to jail for six months.
They let him out and when we arrived at home it was hell for Chris. My mom started to slap him and punched him in the face. Just to sum it up she beat him. She asked him why he did it his answer was that a group of crackheads offered him crack if he went in to steel from the store.

My brother's actions was stressing me and my mother out. My mom got to the point where her hair was falling out.
She went to a therapist and they told her it was because she was so stressed and tens about Chris's beaver.
I got to the point where it got difficult for me to urinate. I would have to push it out to the point of it hurting. I also sat in a hot bath and I would wait till I urinated.
He had me so scared, because he told me that he would hurt me if I “snicked” on him if I told my mom about the stuff he would pull when she was away at work.

Later I would learn what he was really capable of.
Four:
Just as despair can come to one only from other human beings, hope, too, can be given to one only by other human beings.
- Elie Weisel


In about May of 2007 my mother said that she was going to allow my brother Chris. Chris was the child that my mother sis drugs until she was seven months pregnant.
Chris wanted to come and live with us because he said that “ he was tired of living with my biological dad Matt. My mom told me about his mental disabilities and asked me and my sister Misty to be nice and explained that he may do things that he doesn’t know he does.
I talked to him a few times before he moved down from Arizona, to Texas. He asked me many questions. The weirdest question he asked me was about sex. Although I wasn't “ out” as a gay person I guess that it was obvious that I was gay.

I remember one time when he called when my mother was out for the day and he wanted to talk to me. I remember specificity thing we talked about. He asked “ would you have sex with a boy”. I didn’t know if that was a question that I should answer. I didn’t even know if my brother should even ask me a question like that. Awkwardly Then he said “okay” in the creepiest way possible. I knew he had problems and sometimes count help some of the things he says. I just kept my mouth shut about a what he said.
I thought to myself “why make something worst than what it is.” May be it was just a question because I sound gay. So I let it go and I didn’t mention it to my mother. I wonder maybe if I had she would’ve stopped him from moving to Texas, but I didn’t say anything.

My mother told me that he was moving to where we lived in a month. I remember feeling so exited about him moving in with us. He was my big brother and the only big brother I had was my mean older brother Josh.
I count take the excitement when me and my mother arrived at the airport to meet my brother. I remember we waited for him for almost an hour.
He finally arrived about hour after waiting in the crowded, hot airport lobby.
He ran and gave me and mt mother hugs and greeting's We Gathered all his bags and luggage. He brought exactly two bags. One was a bag of close and a bag of personal things such as deodorant, tooth brush, E.T.C
Talking to him was so awkwardly . He only liked talking about sex, drugs, and vulgar things. I was raised by my grandmother before I moved in with my mother at the age of eleven, so we didn’t use vulgar language. The only places I ever heard curse words was when my grandparents where upset, my mother and sister cussed, and the kids at school cursed, but other wise I was not allowed to curse and I never had the urge to use vulgar language.
Me and Misty would talk and we would talk about how weird he was. He only thought about sex. When he was alone he would watch sex and masturbated all the time. He liked to talk about it too. He would say “I masturbated today and it was good”. Or he would go into detail about the porn he would be watching. Me and my sister Misty found him extremely creepy.

He would ask me to go around town and walk around with him. He caused trouble everywhere he was. The first incident he had “in trouble” was when he started to work for the man next door who he worked for for about a week and asked his payment early and it really ticked the guy off and the guy took sixty dollars out of his pockets and the Hispanic man who could not speak English properly threw the money at my brother and said a few curse words in Spanish and told my brother to never show his face around here again.
I remember exactly what my brother spent the money, he went to the local pond shop and spent the money on a large hinting knife. Long story short my mother took the knife away and grounded him.

When my mother was severely upset with Chris she would “beat on him” per day. I remember when my mother would get really mad and shed slap him, and kick him, shed punch him and he would just stand there and take it and she would call him names.
My mom left it up to me to watch my brother at night when she was working. I remember one time when my mother banned any kind of pornographic pictures or videos in the house and he would beg me to let him watch it.
He would say “ please I won't tell mom. Its our little secret. Id at some point finally give in and tell him he could watch it for five or ten minutes.
I would tell my mother when she got home from work.
My mother was not very kind or understanding with my brother. She would beta him when she got really upset with him.
I remember one time my mom got mad that my brother went behind her back and she started to slap him back and forth from his face, and she pushed him to the front porch. Saying “ Hit me motherfucker”. She kicked him and finally pushed him off of our porch. My brother Chris being six feet of coarse caught himself.
I think it was sorta insensitive of her to beat him when she was upset. He did have problems and sometimes wasn't aware of what he was doing or aware that what he was doing was wrong. Even though I would never defend my brother because of what he did to me in which I will explain later in the book.

My brother did other things too. He started hanging out with an African American prostitute. I thought she was sweet as can be, the few times I met her. My mother did not approve of his new “relationship”. She strictly forbidden him to hang around with her.
This women had mental problems, like Chris. My mother told me that she was put in a mental institution every other week.
Long story short it was a bi fight one day. Chris told this women that my mom blew his whole disability check on me and her and she told Chris that she didn’t want to hang out with him, and she broke it off.

One after noon on a Saturday afternoon my mother got a call from the police station and they told her that Chris was in jail and that she would have to pick him up. My mother asked “ what did he do, this time”? They refused to tell her and told her that she needed to come and pick him up.
She took me with her, since it was Saturday and she didn’t want to leave me at home and she took me with her.
The drive to the police station was long and it being summer was really hot. We arrived at the police station and the tall police man in his blue uniform took us back to the cell my brother was in and let him out.
The whole time the police officer was leading us back to the small room to have a conference, my mother was living my brother a nasty look.
The police officer sat us down and explained that Chris was caught steeling from the local Gainesville supermarket. He explained that there would be a fine of 300 dollars or he would go to jail for six months.
They let him out and when we arrived at home it was hell for Chris. My mom started to slap him and punched him in the face. Just to sum it up she beat him. She asked him why he did it his answer was that a group of crackheads offered him crack if he went in to steel from the store.

My brother's actions was stressing me and my mother out. My mom got to the point where her hair was falling out.
She went to a therapist and they told her it was because she was so stressed and tens about Chris's beaver.
I got to the point where it got difficult for me to urinate. I would have to push it out to the point of it hurting. I also sat in a hot bath and I would wait till I urinated.
He had me so scared, because he told me that he would hurt me if I “snicked” on him if I told my mom about the stuff he would pull when she was away at work.

Later I would learn what he was really capable of.
Four:
Just as despair can come to one only from other human beings, hope, too, can be given to one only by other human beings.
- Elie Weisel


In about May of 2007 my mother said that she was going to allow my brother Chris. Chris was the child that my mother sis drugs until she was seven months pregnant.
Chris wanted to come and live with us because he said that “ he was tired of living with my biological dad Matt. My mom told me about his mental disabilities and asked me and my sister Misty to be nice and explained that he may do things that he doesn’t know he does.
I talked to him a few times before he moved down from Arizona, to Texas. He asked me many questions. The weirdest question he asked me was about sex. Although I wasn't “ out” as a gay person I guess that it was obvious that I was gay.

I remember one time when he called when my mother was out for the day and he wanted to talk to me. I remember specificity thing we talked about. He asked “ would you have sex with a boy”. I didn’t know if that was a question that I should answer. I didn’t even know if my brother should even ask me a question like that. Awkwardly Then he said “okay” in the creepiest way possible. I knew he had problems and sometimes count help some of the things he says. I just kept my mouth shut about a what he said.
I thought to myself “why make something worst than what it is.” May be it was just a question because I sound gay. So I let it go and I didn’t mention it to my mother. I wonder maybe if I had she would’ve stopped him from moving to Texas, but I didn’t say anything.

My mother told me that he was moving to where we lived in a month. I remember feeling so exited about him moving in with us. He was my big brother and the only big brother I had was my mean older brother Josh.
I count take the excitement when me and my mother arrived at the airport to meet my brother. I remember we waited for him for almost an hour.
He finally arrived about hour after waiting in the crowded, hot airport lobby.
He ran and gave me and mt mother hugs and greeting's We Gathered all his bags and luggage. He brought exactly two bags. One was a bag of close and a bag of personal things such as deodorant, tooth brush, E.T.C
Talking to him was so awkwardly . He only liked talking about sex, drugs, and vulgar things. I was raised by my grandmother before I moved in with my mother at the age of eleven, so we didn’t use vulgar language. The only places I ever heard curse words was when my grandparents where upset, my mother and sister cussed, and the kids at school cursed, but other wise I was not allowed to curse and I never had the urge to use vulgar language.
Me and Misty would talk and we would talk about how weird he was. He only thought about sex. When he was alone he would watch sex and masturbated all the time. He liked to talk about it too. He would say “I masturbated today and it was good”. Or he would go into detail about the porn he would be watching. Me and my sister Misty found him extremely creepy.

He would ask me to go around town and walk around with him. He caused trouble everywhere he was. The first incident he had “in trouble” was when he started to work for the man next door who he worked for for about a week and asked his payment early and it really ticked the guy off and the guy took sixty dollars out of his pockets and the Hispanic man who could not speak English properly threw the money at my brother and said a few curse words in Spanish and told my brother to never show his face around here again.
I remember exactly what my brother spent the money, he went to the local pond shop and spent the money on a large hinting knife. Long story short my mother took the knife away and grounded him.

When my mother was severely upset with Chris she would “beat on him” per day. I remember when my mother would get really mad and shed slap him, and kick him, shed punch him and he would just stand there and take it and she would call him names.
My mom left it up to me to watch my brother at night when she was working. I remember one time when my mother banned any kind of pornographic pictures or videos in the house and he would beg me to let him watch it.
He would say “ please I won't tell mom. Its our little secret. Id at some point finally give in and tell him he could watch it for five or ten minutes.
I would tell my mother when she got home from work.
My mother was not very kind or understanding with my brother. She would beta him when she got really upset with him.
I remember one time my mom got mad that my brother went behind her back and she started to slap him back and forth from his face, and she pushed him to the front porch. Saying “ Hit me motherfucker”. She kicked him and finally pushed him off of our porch. My brother Chris being six feet of coarse caught himself.
I think it was sorta insensitive of her to beat him when she was upset. He did have problems and sometimes wasn't aware of what he was doing or aware that what he was doing was wrong. Even though I would never defend my brother because of what he did to me in which I will explain later in the book.

My brother did other things too. He started hanging out with an African American prostitute. I thought she was sweet as can be, the few times I met her. My mother did not approve of his new “relationship”. She strictly forbidden him to hang around with her.
This women had mental problems, like Chris. My mother told me that she was put in a mental institution every other week.
Long story short it was a bi fight one day. Chris told this women that my mom blew his whole disability check on me and her and she told Chris that she didn’t want to hang out with him, and she broke it off.

One after noon on a Saturday afternoon my mother got a call from the police station and they told her that Chris was in jail and that she would have to pick him up. My mother asked “ what did he do, this time”? They refused to tell her and told her that she needed to come and pick him up.
She took me with her, since it was Saturday and she didn’t want to leave me at home and she took me with her.
The drive to the police station was long and it being summer was really hot. We arrived at the police station and the tall police man in his blue uniform took us back to the cell my brother was in and let him out.
The whole time the police officer was leading us back to the small room to have a conference, my mother was living my brother a nasty look.
The police officer sat us down and explained that Chris was caught steeling from the local Gainesville supermarket. He explained that there would be a fine of 300 dollars or he would go to jail for six months.
They let him out and when we arrived at home it was hell for Chris. My mom started to slap him and punched him in the face. Just to sum it up she beat him. She asked him why he did it his answer was that a group of crackheads offered him crack if he went in to steel from the store.

My brother's actions was stressing me and my mother out. My mom got to the point where her hair was falling out.
She went to a therapist and they told her it was because she was so stressed and tens about Chris's beaver.
I got to the point where it got difficult for me to urinate. I would have to push it out to the point of it hurting. I also sat in a hot bath and I would wait till I urinated.
He had me so scared, because he told me that he would hurt me if I “snicked” on him if I told my mom about the stuff he would pull when she was away at work.

Later I would learn what he was really capable of.
Four:
Just as despair can come to one only from other human beings, hope, too, can be given to one only by other human beings.
- Elie Weisel


In about May of 2007 my mother said that she was going to allow my brother Chris. Chris was the child that my mother sis drugs until she was seven months pregnant.
Chris wanted to come and live with us because he said that “ he was tired of living with my biological dad Matt. My mom told me about his mental disabilities and asked me and my sister Misty to be nice and explained that he may do things that he doesn’t know he does.
I talked to him a few times before he moved down from Arizona, to Texas. He asked me many questions. The weirdest question he asked me was about sex. Although I wasn't “ out” as a gay person I guess that it was obvious that I was gay.

I remember one time when he called when my mother was out for the day and he wanted to talk to me. I remember specificity thing we talked about. He asked “ would you have sex with a boy”. I didn’t know if that was a question that I should answer. I didn’t even know if my brother should even ask me a question like that. Awkwardly Then he said “okay” in the creepiest way possible. I knew he had problems and sometimes count help some of the things he says. I just kept my mouth shut about a what he said.
I thought to myself “why make something worst than what it is.” May be it was just a question because I sound gay. So I let it go and I didn’t mention it to my mother. I wonder maybe if I had she would’ve stopped him from moving to Texas, but I didn’t say anything.

My mother told me that he was moving to where we lived in a month. I remember feeling so exited about him moving in with us. He was my big brother and the only big brother I had was my mean older brother Josh.
I count take the excitement when me and my mother arrived at the airport to meet my brother. I remember we waited for him for almost an hour.
He finally arrived about hour after waiting in the crowded, hot airport lobby.
He ran and gave me and mt mother hugs and greeting's We Gathered all his bags and luggage. He brought exactly two bags. One was a bag of close and a bag of personal things such as deodorant, tooth brush, E.T.C
Talking to him was so awkwardly . He only liked talking about sex, drugs, and vulgar things. I was raised by my grandmother before I moved in with my mother at the age of eleven, so we didn’t use vulgar language. The only places I ever heard curse words was when my grandparents where upset, my mother and sister cussed, and the kids at school cursed, but other wise I was not allowed to curse and I never had the urge to use vulgar language.
Me and Misty would talk and we would talk about how weird he was. He only thought about sex. When he was alone he would watch sex and masturbated all the time. He liked to talk about it too. He would say “I masturbated today and it was good”. Or he would go into detail about the porn he would be watching. Me and my sister Misty found him extremely creepy.

He would ask me to go around town and walk around with him. He caused trouble everywhere he was. The first incident he had “in trouble” was when he started to work for the man next door who he worked for for about a week and asked his payment early and it really ticked the guy off and the guy took sixty dollars out of his pockets and the Hispanic man who could not speak English properly threw the money at my brother and said a few curse words in Spanish and told my brother to never show his face around here again.
I remember exactly what my brother spent the money, he went to the local pond shop and spent the money on a large hinting knife. Long story short my mother took the knife away and grounded him.

When my mother was severely upset with Chris she would “beat on him” per day. I remember when my mother would get really mad and shed slap him, and kick him, shed punch him and he would just stand there and take it and she would call him names.
My mom left it up to me to watch my brother at night when she was working. I remember one time when my mother banned any kind of pornographic pictures or videos in the house and he would beg me to let him watch it.
He would say “ please I won't tell mom. Its our little secret. Id at some point finally give in and tell him he could watch it for five or ten minutes.
I would tell my mother when she got home from work.
My mother was not very kind or understanding with my brother. She would beta him when she got really upset with him.
I remember one time my mom got mad that my brother went behind her back and she started to slap him back and forth from his face, and she pushed him to the front porch. Saying “ Hit me motherfucker”. She kicked him and finally pushed him off of our porch. My brother Chris being six feet of coarse caught himself.
I think it was sorta insensitive of her to beat him when she was upset. He did have problems and sometimes wasn't aware of what he was doing or aware that what he was doing was wrong. Even though I would never defend my brother because of what he did to me in which I will explain later in the book.

My brother did other things too. He started hanging out with an African American prostitute. I thought she was sweet as can be, the few times I met her. My mother did not approve of his new “relationship”. She strictly forbidden him to hang around with her.
This women had mental problems, like Chris. My mother told me that she was put in a mental institution every other week.
Long story short it was a bi fight one day. Chris told this women that my mom blew his whole disability check on me and her and she told Chris that she didn’t want to hang out with him, and she broke it off.

One after noon on a Saturday afternoon my mother got a call from the police station and they told her that Chris was in jail and that she would have to pick him up. My mother asked “ what did he do, this time”? They refused to tell her and told her that she needed to come and pick him up.
She took me with her, since it was Saturday and she didn’t want to leave me at home and she took me with her.
The drive to the police station was long and it being summer was really hot. We arrived at the police station and the tall police man in his blue uniform took us back to the cell my brother was in and let him out.
The whole time the police officer was leading us back to the small room to have a conference, my mother was living my brother a nasty look.
The police officer sat us down and explained that Chris was caught steeling from the local Gainesville supermarket. He explained that there would be a fine of 300 dollars or he would go to jail for six months.
They let him out and when we arrived at home it was hell for Chris. My mom started to slap him and punched him in the face. Just to sum it up she beat him. She asked him why he did it his answer was that a group of crackheads offered him crack if he went in to steel from the store.

My brother's actions was stressing me and my mother out. My mom got to the point where her hair was falling out.
She went to a therapist and they told her it was because she was so stressed and tens about Chris's beaver.
I got to the point where it got difficult for me to urinate. I would have to push it out to the point of it hurting. I also sat in a hot bath and I would wait till I urinated.
He had me so scared, because he told me that he would hurt me if I “snicked” on him if I told my mom about the stuff he would pull when she was away at work.

Later I would learn what he was really capable of.


Five:
You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do.
- Eleanor Roosevelt


My blatter problems of not being able to urinate got worse. I t got to the point where I would not urinate for hours on end. My mom finally gave in and took me to the doctors office one weekend.
I remember when the doctor walked in. He was an older man, maybe in his early 50's with whitish gray hair.
He came in and asked my mother to leave so he could evaluate my penis. I didn't feel conformable taking my close off in front of my mother, at the age of fourteen.
He touched down there and evaluated it. Talk about unconformable. I don't believe iv ever been as unconformable in my life then at that time.
He finally informed my mother she could enter back in the room and he explained that I was forming an infection that is caused from stress.

Me and my mother drove home from the hospital. My mom told my brother that he either had to straiten up, or just get out. My brother promised hed be good, but I knew it was a lie. He always said that, but he never would. My mother would always believe him.
I don't think she would believe him, I thing it was because he was her son and she didn't want ti give up on one of her kids. I also believe it was in guilt. Guilt because what she had done to him when she was pregnant with him.

My brother continued to misbehave, as always. He was still paying his fine, out of his own pocket for steeling from the supermarket.
I just can't seem to comprehend why my mother was helping him. He had done so much to us, I just don't know why. I guess she didn't want to give up on him because she had birthed him. Although I of course do not have any kids I would feel attached to the kid because I made it.

Chris really crossed the line one night. He asked me directly “ do you wanna have sex with me”?
I was so honestly offended. I told him no I would never do that with my brother.
He answered back “come on, I know you want it”.
I told him no never and not to ever ask me again, or I would have him arrested.
I just told him im going to bed and not to talk to me the next day. He responded when I said this “ill get it one way or another”.
I was shocked for days that he would ask that. It was repulsive and gross. My brother? You have got to be mental to even think about doing that. I locked my door for days and days.
I didn't tell my mother. Whats the point I thought I said no. That’s that.
He would ask in several different ways after that. It would be “wanna do it” or “suck my dick”. It was absolutely gross.
It had been a couple of weeks since he would ask again. It was about mid- August and it was about nine o’clock. My mother had just left and my brother told me I wanna show you something in mom's room. I said okay and he shut and locked the door. I turned around and I asked him “is that necessary”?
He replied back “its very necessary for what i'm about to do”.
I then cringed because I didn't know what the hell he was about to do. He then pulled his penis out and showed it to me. I almost fell over and I backed up to the wall.
I said to him that this is very inappropriate.
He said that id been parading around in close that showed off my butt and clamed I was trying to “turn him on”.
My brother asked my one time “are you gay, because you sound gay”.
I said yes. I didn't think he would do what he was about to do.
He leaned in to kiss me. Right when his lips touched mine my reflexes told me to slap him. I slapped him in the face.
He said very out of character “don't ever fucking do that”. He then grabbed by my hair and threw me as hard as he could on my mother's bed.
He then forcefully tore off my pajamas I had on. I know that I should not o into detail. At that point he had sex with me. Forcefully of course.
I cried frantically and I asked him, get off, just get off. This is wrong.
I blacked out after the first five minutes. I remember at one point I kicked him in his lip and cut it. It started to bleep and he slapped me so hard in my face that my whole head turned.
I don't know if it was him slapping me that hard that made me black out or just me not wanting to see it, but I blacked out.
Somehow I ended up in my own bed the next morning. I didn’t remember much of it just what I told you. I lay-ed in bed for the whole day.
I knew what he did was wrong. I was violated. I was physically alive, but mentally my innocence was gone. I was mentally dead.
I felt lifeless. I finally got out of my bed at about 9:00 at night. I walked past my brother who was playing video games and he said hi.
I said hello back. I didn't want to think about it. I did things to not think about it.
The best therapy was sleep. I thought in my sleep he can't hurt me and I won't think about it.
If your wondering if it happened again? Yes. Many times. I had count, but lost track.
Another time he raped me again was when I was reading and my mother was gone as usual.
My mother was always somewhere else, when I needed her to come to my rescue. She would be at work, partying, or out when it happen.
I was reading and he came in and said “hay sexy”. I said no i'm not in the mood.
He told me he didn't care if I was in the mood. He said he was going to get it when he wanted it.
I answered back “your a sick motherfucker, you know that”. He picked me up by the hair and back handed my and threw me back on my bed. He tore off his pants and again he decided to rape me.
Sometimes he would choke me during it. Just enough where I would pass out.
After a while I stopped screaming and blacked out. I think that was my way of dealing with it. Going to sleep and I didn't have to see it happen.
I would wake up and act as if nothing would happen. It was my way of coping, I think.

I felt as though my body was physically there, but my mind was not. Most of that era of my life is a blur. Sorta like seeing one of those “black and white movies”. The really bad ones from a different time.

I finally came out to my mom and started secretly seeing a guy we will call Jon. Jon was a big, but sweet guy. One day I told him about my brother raping me. He then tracked my brother down while my brother was on one of his walks around town.
Jon started to talk to him about me and told my brother he would kill him if he would ever touch me inappropriately again. My brother said something about me and Jon socked my brother in the face.
My brother then came home crying like a big baby to my mom. Long story short my brother never touched me again.

My mom finally got fed up with my brother after one night some people came to out to our house to tell her of the stuff my brother was doing. My brother apparently knew they where here and showed up to our house with a knife.
Not just any knife, but one of this circle ninja knifes.
My mom sent my brother away, and I have not heard of him since.
Although he had only lived there for eight months he changed my life in more than physical abuse or even sexual abuse. Oh no he did so much more than that. He took my innocence away. What he did was wrong.


Six:
Happy are those who dream, dreams and are ready to pay the price to make them come true


I then started school again after Christmas brake. I was a totally different person. My whole personality changed.
When I used to be such a happy and loving person I turned into a dark, Gothic, punk kid. Everything about me changed.

My grades prior to Christmas break and Chris living with us where A’s and B’s. My grades dropped to D’s and C’s. I hated everyone. My teacher's, my friends, and anyone who would contradict me.
My friends stopped talking to me . I remember one time my group of friends sat at a table on the opposite side of the cafeteria at lunch time. When I walked over to were my friends where, and sat down one of my friends, who I will call Bobbie said “ You can't sit with us anymore, your really getting weird”.
I replied back I don't need you, I have other friends, your a fucking nerd anyway”.
That was the last time I ever talked to that group of friends.
I found a new group of friends. It was your typical group of punk, Gothic, kids. The trouble maker's the ones that are always in some kind of troubles.

My attitude toward adults also changed dramatically. Instead of being the respectful kid I was before. I thought that I was right and everyone else was wrong. I remember whenever my mother said something I would find a way to contradict her, with everything.
When my mom would tell me that I could not go out with my friends I would tell her “ill be home by ten” when in truth I would stay out until three in the morning, or she would say can you do my dished I would say I don't look like your damn maid, do you own damn dished.

I remember I went from choir class, because I hated choir, and I went into intro to Spanish class. I remember exactly who my teacher was. The day I had my schedule change I had to get a paper signed by the teacher.
The teacher's name was Mrs. Gee. I remember when I walked into the classroom she was sitting at her desk yelling at students. When I walked in she stood up,to talk to me there stood a short women, as who looked like she may be no taller than 5 foot 7 and no more. She had silky, shiny blond hair in which came up to her shoulder’s wearing kackey pants and a blue polo top with a collar on it.
When I said hello and held the slip of paper she said “ don't you see I'm doing something. You can wait over there. She said pointing to a wall, informing me to wait on it.
After five minutes of her talking to the other kids and yelling at them she finally walked over to me and snatched the paper out of my hands. She said, oh you will be in my third period

Mrs. Gee and I where on good terms for the first few weeks or maybe even a month or so. Then it started.
Mrs. Gees and I first feud was in February of my seventh grade year. I remember what our argument was about. She said something about my close. She stated your pants are too high. I replied “so what, it's not like their too low.
She then said back, you do not need to talk to me like that. I'm not your parent's. I am your teacher.
I then said back don't like it don't look at it then. Then the bell rang and she made me stay after so she could give me a lecture about respect. I probably apologized and she let me go off to my next class.

Another one of our many problems and feuds was when I was smart mouthing Mrs. Gee, just absolutely being absurd and refusing to do my work. She then told me to finish the worksheet I was working on at home and I threw it down and said whatever Hitler.
Although I realize it now, though I did not then, but that was rather Racist.
I remember she wrote me up. On the office slip she wrote on the slot that was on it that I was in the third grade. I guess that I was acting like I was in third grade. She told the coach and he made me do like one hundred exercises called up downs.

I remember one other times me and mrs. Gee came to blows was a time one of my classmates gave me a silly picure of the cartoon corrector sponge bob was holding up his middle finger and I was showing it off to my classmates as I was working on a project. She snatched it out of my hand and wrote me up. I remember my school Principle gave me weeks worth of ISS.
Though theirs many other times me and Mrs. Gee feuded I cannot spend all day talking about it.

She wasn't the only teacher that I was rude to. I had a special education math teacher named Mrs. Powers. Mrs. Powers had a very loud voice which later she claimed that she was toned deaf and could not help how loud she talked. Mrs. Powers was mildly a larger women, but lost weight the following year.
Mrs. Powers had what seemed as though she had anger issues. She has one of the shortest tempers I have ever seen. Although she was a good teacher she did have quite a temper on her.
I remember I turned in a math paper and she then handed it back to me with markings on it. She told me to correct the ones marked.
I was in a way insulted that she would tell me to correct it. I said no, I want the grade I got. She told me that I will not let you fail.
That wasn't the only time I made her mad. I remember once when Mrs. Powers told me that I need to brush my hair in the morning. I replied “you have no right to tell me what the hell I need to look like, your not perfect”.
That really set her off. She started ranting and raving about respect toward adults and how I lack it. She finally did shut up and gave me a lunch detention.

I didn't dislike all of my teacher's though. My eighth grade creative writing teacher Mrs. Grubbs, who may be one of my favorite teacher's I have ever had.
I always loved writing and she made me discover my gift of putting words together the right way. I remember she was like twenty six and was so sweet. She pretty much let her students get away with everything but maybe murder. She always told me my writing was good and she wasn't like every other writing teacher I had. She didn't just tell us to do the assignment. She really let us be creative with everything we did.
I think she really was the one who helped me discover my true creativeness.

I remember one night at a part my friend asked me if I wanted to smoke with her. I replies okay. I didn't know what she meant. I believed she meant cigarets. That's what you would’ve. Right? Wrong. What she wanted me to smoke was speed. When I took a drag of this “so – called – cigaret” I started to feel sick. A little light headed. It tasted awful. Then everything started to go fast. It was horrible.
I was addicted and I started to smoke on occasion with those friends I had. I was addicted more and more every time.
It felt good. I felt alive.
I remember I started to get it from my friends and bringing it home, hiding it and smoking it. I started to take it in pill form.
I didn't know what the side effects would come later.


I remember once at a party with my friends we where smoking speed and The last thing I remember is I blacked out. My friends told me that “I died” and one of my friends did something to bring me back to life.
It really gave me a scare. I just thought to myself one day, when I was reminiscing about my life why am I doing this to myself? Why am I causing this pain on myself. It's just not fair to me or people who love me. That was the last time I would do any kind of drug. I did speed for about three months.
I thought to myself by doing drugs im waysting my talents.

At that point I said to myself, I will now straiten up and get my life back on track and no more speed, no more getting into trouble. Just love and I will not allow what my brother did ruin my life. That's not my shame or fault. It's his. I will make something of myself.
Just because he did something to me, didn't mean I should have to suffer. I got rid of that group of friends. They where just holding me back.
Finally at that point I realized that it wasn't my fault. What he did wasn't consensual. I said to myself it's time to get better and forget about Chris. Chris is unimportant.

After that I never got into trouble in school again.


7:

For God is no the author of confusiion, but of peace
-l Corinthians 14:33


I think that my faith in god ended far before my accounts of being molested by Chris. I don't know exactly when if I ever believed in god.
I think it ended when “god” didn't save me from my dad. In my mind I thought if god loved me or even cared about me he would have saved me from my dad and stepmother. If god loved me he would have saved me from that monster Chris and if god loved me would never have let those mean boys in school bully and abuse me, if god loved me he would never have let me be gay and be torchured by this world. God didn't love me. At least I thought that.

I think what I really needed was for someone to love me.
I think that the first time I heard god may have beed my freshmen year of school. I didn't have but maybe two or three friends the prior year and I think that I got my real true friend that year. I met one of my best friends, even today Jamie through my other mutual friends, Michelle.
I remember I was walking with my friends Michelle when Jamie came up to Michelle and started talking. Half way through their conversathion Jamie said, Oh! Hello I didn't see you there, hi I'm Jamie. Whats your name? I answered and we got to talking.

She soon found out I was gay and we have been friends since then.
I think that the reason that I felt like I heard god then was that I felt as though my life was unbearable was that god brought me Jamey to me, possibly my real true friend in a long time, if not my only friend I have ever had.

Me and Jamie still talk, about everyday.


Me and my mother moved to Madison Alabama late last year. Moving I think really helped me get out of the depression. I was much happier being near my family.

I know that my brother will never be able to touch me again and that whole part of my life is a blur, but it effected me so much. I still have dreams, about it. Eery year that time of year I go through hell and think about it. Sometimes I wake up at night and scream, from bad dreams.

When people ask me do I ever wish my brother dead or ever wish bad things on him my answer is no. I am at peace at it all. Every bad memory or bad experience, I have come to terms with it. I think when you start excepting that everything you have gone through in life you will be happier.
I think that when my brother molested me that first time a part of me died and a part of my was birthed. I was reborn. Iv been asked me would I ever go and visit my brother. My answer is no, not at this time. Last I checked he is in a mental institution.
I think that I can say I have forgiven my brother, but I could never see him face to face.
I think the first time that I felt like id forgiven him for what he did to me, I remember one night I had been thinking about it. It was November about the time it had happen and I randomly started to cry, hysterically. It had been the first real time I had cried about it. I finally came to terms with my past. I finally said I excepted it all.


It is true what I said in the Prologue of the book, everything I go through, every bump in the road will not bring me down, but will only make me stronger.
When my brother raped me I thought I was going to die. Now I know I can get through anything that life throws at me. Its still unwriten.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 05.03.2011

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Widmung:
Part One of my memoir.