DRuGz N Sex

Let me tell you guys a little bit about myself. I am a 15 year old girl who lives in Brooklyn and was born abroad. I despise my father. Don't get me wrong, he buys me what I need, teaches, and protects me but he's never there for me. Never cared about my opinion or my goals, just about what he wants in my future. He also physically abuse me, my mother, and my brother. He doesn't do it on purpose but he just can't control his temper. And the craziest thing is that my mom would leave him (what she says) if she could since he and my little brother are the citizens in the family, and we need him if we want our citizenship (we only have the greencards). Before we needed him because he support our family and we needed our greencards, and when he quit his job (during a recession) we needed him because we needed our citizenships. Now that he's jobless, and using borrowed money from my mother's side of the family, and we are under both physical and emotional abuse. Anyways here's a time back in 7th grade when my dad accused me of both using drugs and being pregnant.

         It all started with a haircut. I hated having my haircut because my dad would be the one cutting it and he would cut it super short. He says it makes me look more innocent and younger and I would let him. It was a Saturday and this particular time however, I remember crying because he cut it waaaay shorter then he usually did, especially my bangs. I knew that if I walked in school with that haircut, I would be under major peer pressure so the next day I went to CVS and bought some red highlights. When I got home I put red streaks on my now super short bangs. Everything was fine, and when my dad asked about it I just told him it was for a school play and it was a wash-out (although it wasn't). My friends and classmate thought I looked cool and my boyfriend, Vanilla thought I looked super punk but he liked it.

         It was two weeks later when my dad looked at my hair again, this time he told me that the back didn't look good and that he has to trim it, of course I let him knowing that if I refuse him he would use his strength to get his way. I guessed he trimmed it crooked or put a patch on the back because he said he would have to take me to the salon. I cried again, fearing that the barber would cut shorter than my hair already was, but I went telling myself that no one can cut worse than my dad. So we went, and we went to this Asian salon in Manhattan (my dad trying to save money) and they cut it into the worst style possible. They cut my hair into those Japanese cartoon guy hairstyle, its like: http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_c3rQgtwrvKU/RteiCiOVVaI/AAAAAAAAAS8/YYiOKlUZmyQ/s400/pr03.jpg  but the front and the back was shorter. I was too shocked for words so I didn't say anything until I got home. I went to my mom and I just became hysterical. She was no help either, she just kept trying to assure me that I looked fine. That night, I cried myself to sleep and dreaded going back to school the next day.

         This time however, I got a much different reaction than the first. People even thought I was some transfer student at a first glance, when they saw that it was me, my friends and my boyfriend almost passed out. Of course Vanilla started eyeing some other girl, Puerto Rican mind you and my friends were trying to decide whether they should ignore me or reassure me. Most, however ended up ignoring while a few of them stayed with me. (This was when I found out who my true friends were). I couldn't take it though, I don't know why but I just caved in. I think the last straw was when I went to the library that afternoon to chill with my crush, Hershey and my other friends, I used a lot of hairspray so I could look normal but I guess it failed since everyone once again acted weird around me. Hershey started flirting one of my friends and I just couldn't help it and left.

         That night, I decided that I wasn't going to school tomorrow, and possibly the day after that, and the day after, not until my hair grew back. I just didn't feel like myself and I blamed everything on my dad and everyone around me. I hated Vanilla and I hated Hershey. The next day I did just that, I didn't go to school and hid out until my dad left for work and my mom left to take my brother to school. When they left I went back in, got some cash from my parent's safe and went wherever the wind blew. I didn't do drugs or anything, but I found myself going to my friend's house (she's in her 40s), the library, stores, and shoplifting. Everything that I never thought I would do.

         It was about a week after that, and after a few hundreds of stealing from my parents when my dad noticed that I slept a lot. I would come back home and he found me sleeping and I would sleep through the night. I would also oversleep. And he started hitting me more frequently because he thought I was on drugs. One of those days, I remember sleeping when my dad pulled me up at around midnight and since I had been crying my eyes were red. He started threatening me and accused me of using drugs once again and my eyes being red were proof of that. I started screaming back at him and he hit me some more with the clothes hanger. I took it to myself and told myself that I was being punished for stealing and cutting school.

        Another week later, my dad realized that I was gaining weight, and a gut. To his eyes, however he thought I was doing having sex and was pregnant. I again, told him no I wasn't doing anything he accused me of. He of course hit me some more and this time my mom instigated telling him that I stole her engagement ring (which I didn't since it cost thousands of dollars and I wouldn't know where to use it on) and I used it to buy drugs. I let him hit me and I just didn't have the power to fight back. I couldn't do anything, and that was the time it hit me, I had no one to turn to and I was helpless and powerless. I couldn't tell the authority since I knew that my dad had enough anger and spite in him to kill me. He will find a way to hunt me down if I did anything about it.

This incident happened when I was in 7th grade, and it still happens every now and then. There were 2-3 reports to the ACS about this case (the NYC Administration for Children's Services) from my school, and many times I wanted to tell them about my dad, many times I wanted to show them the bruises I had and tell them about the time he burned my face with boiling water, or 3 times he broke my head, or the time he broke my mom's hips. I couldn't tell them knowing that my family's lives were in danger and so was mine. There were a lot of incidents worse than the stuff that I described but I have to say that this affected me the most. 7th grade, if you havn't known is the most important year in your middle school. It determined your high school, and your high school determines your future. And my dad ruined that for me and I don't think I will ever forgive him for ruining my future. I forgave him everything and I still forgive him everything but I would not and will never forgive him for ruining my future and goals.


 

Naee Naee
13-15, F
Mar 14, 2009