3years Old And Morbitly Depressed

I had a really bad childhood, if you can even call it that. I feel horrible because I have two best friends (I usually only have one person I'm close to and tell the rest to go to hell) and only one knows about how bad my early childhood was, and not the one I've known since kindergarden>>. My parents met, they ******, my brother was concieved a long with a hasty marrige *cough couch*. My brother was born with sever Autism. Like he can't process stuff and is slower (he didn't talk in full sentances until he was about 16 and they're slured and loose) Three years later....there was me. He also had no sense of being gental and constantly beat the **** out of me. I also found out he almost sufficated me to death with a pillow when I was a baby.
Having a kid like this can be a handful. Not that my parents were really in love, so I suppose they didn't love us. To get a break my mom would let just about anyone watch us. One of the first was Fern. She started out great, took care of other special needs kids, then she met R.J. He had lots of houses to make and introduce her to the white monster. Things went bad from there. He made her take on more kids, then leave us to rot. He also bred dogs and I remember being locked in a room so filled with dog **** I couldn't sit down. They mostley neglected us. Left us in the little rooms, forgot we were people that tend to need food and water. They'd trick us and say they'd drive us home only to lock us in the car for hours at night. Then things got worse. Along with my brother beating me they did too. It wasn't just spankings, it was full fisted blows, kicks with steal toed boots, and the occasional cigarett burn.
This went on in a time period from highchair age to 5. My parents couldn't have not known...I didn't talk, often came home black and blue and flinched whenever they touched me. At three years old I would stay in bed all bad to avoid going, and would scream "don't let them hurt me anymore!!!" as I was put in the car.
The other house was different and it scares me... I hate my mom. I hate her not only because of what I'm afraid might have happened to me and my brother but the other boy. For three yes I watched him deteriorate. His mom didn't love him... She knew what his father did to him and still left him. I still remember being confused when he said his dad didn't let him wear clothes sometimes. I have little slivered memories of me being little and huddled in a corner crying as he came towards me... I'm scared to know if I blocked it out or if it even happened.
I do remember one wakeful time. Stacie and Kevin. Kevin was a boy around my age, Stacie his mom. He was sweet to me and I'm working on tracking him down (we live in the same town)
When I was five we moved. My brother got a new respitcare person, one that moved in. He kinda liked to hit us too. We gave him a place to live, food, money, let him grow pot in our garage, so to repay us... he ****** my mom.
I'm sixteen now (well almost. 1 month). My mom hates my dad and I and they're seperating after my brother gets placed in a home. My mom labeled everything saying where I can and can't sit, go, touch and for three weeks I wasn't allowed to say anything other than yes or no. I didn't feel human. I'm kinda sickly, and puke from stress almost everyday, but I'm surviving. I won't let her win. Sorry for ranting so much... Please comment.