Abuse

I decided to dig into my old stories again to see what I could find. This story was originally written in March of 2009. It has not been altered in any way.

I used the baseball bat. It was my only way out.
It started when I was three years old. At least that’s when I remember the first time. I had done something stupid like pissing myself and he hit me on the face hard. Knocked me out cold. At least, that’s how I remember it.
He’d keep doing this. Hitting me for stupid shit. When he was pissed sometimes he’d just come and smack the shit out of me. No one would do anything. They’d all just take it is normality.
When I was 8 he pushed me down the stairs. I had to get close to twelve stitches on my head. No body did anything to him.
When I started wearing bras he would take them and smell them when I took them off. It was disgusting. Then it got worse. I’d wake up in the middle of the night and he’d be staring at me. He tried to take pictures of me while I showered.
When I was 14 he chased a boy I liked out of the house, then proceeded to rape me. He raped me for two years until I was 16. Almost every day he wanted me. It was so disgusting. I loved him, but not like this.
He left that same year. When he came back I avoided my home. I stayed with friends. I went with people to celebrate Christmas in other states. I avoided him as much as I could. It worked for two years.
Then he came back when I was a senior with a boyfriend. He chased my boyfriend out of the house when no one else was around. Then he beat me over and over again. He was pissed that he wasn’t getting sex from me.
He raped me the rest of the night. I wound up pregnant. Everyone blamed my boyfriend and my mom took me to the abortionist. No one at school found out, and neither did my boyfriend. Needless to say though, my boyfriend broke up with me.
I finally got out of the place when I went to college. He tried to come visit, but I told security about him and they wouldn’t let him in. When I came back home, he was there and wanted me to have sex with him.
I refused to. No one else was there. We struggled. He punched me in the face, numerous times. Wound up with a broken nose. Was lying on the floor as he was about to come down hard on me and rape me again.
But I couldn’t take it. After all these years of abuse. I looked under the bed to see if there was anything there. There sat an aluminum baseball bat.
I used the baseball bat. It was my only way out.
I hit him as hard as I could in his leg as he came to finish me off. He fell over and I got up as he was sitting up. He was pissed. I swung the bat without thinking and hit him square in his face. He fell over, passed out. Blood splattered onto my jeans.
I remember the radio was on because that’s all I could hear in the house anymore. I kept hearing the lyrics “Are you happy now?” over and over. I sat on the bed for hours after that. His motionless body lay in the floor. Tears rolling down my cheeks, because I knew what would happen if he got up again.
If he got up again…
I had to use the bathroom at some point. I didn’t want him to come in and rape me while I was in there. I just wanted to keep him unconscious until someone came to help. So I hit him again just a little bit. I couldn’t see his face before, but then I could. His nose was broken, and it was totally red. His eyes were open.
I knew he was dead.
I called the police. I told them what happened. They saw there was proof of my claims. They didn’t charge me with murder.
My parents said they had no idea this was happening all those years.
And now I live with having to kill my own brother. After all the years of abuse, he still abuses me…and I’m not sure which hurts worse.