Dragged Down Block
When I was four years old I suffered again at the hand of my mother. My best friend at that time Justin lived two houses down which required me to cross a street with light traffic. On my way home I stopped, looked both ways, and I did see a truck booming down the road but several blocks down. I deemed it safe to cross and so I did. When I finished crossing the lawn and reached our driveway I heard a tire screech because that truck being driven by our sixteen-year-old neighbor took the corner aggressively. It was loud enough for me to turn around but for mapping purposes I was 90% of the way home and about thirty feet or more away from the road when I turned to the sound. I continued on to the front door where my mother greeted me. Greeting implies a positive interaction but that wasn't what happened.
My mother began asking me if I ran in front of that truck which caused his tires to screech. I was honest and said "no, I had already crossed by then." She didn't believe me so she grabbed my right arm as hard as she could as she dragged me in tears to the house where the sixteen-year-old lived. My mother knocked on his door still grabbing me as I cried and she asked him. "Did my son run in front of you." He replied, "no". Then without apology my mother told me to go home. I cried the whole way and after. I don't understand why she hurt me so much, at this point it was either for her own pleasure or she hated her life so much the only person she could take her anger out on were her three defenseless children
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Searching for the Answer
Non-FictionThis is a compilation of stories involving childhood abuse and trauma through a first-person impactful perspective mostly chronological. It is my story and is not fabricated in any way. I am posting just to get feedback thank you.
