Back to the streets

I was living at my moms again, this time with a new step-dad.

It worked pretty well at first, he appeared normal.

I worked full time and payed my way at home, helped my mom as much as I could when I got home from work.

This day I came home as every other day, had been serving customers at the restaurant where I worked all day, it had been a really busy day so I had not had time to sit even a minute. I came home, made coffee and had just poured it in a cup and was sitting at the table to drink it before doing dishes and start dinner.

My step-dad came home, I noticed that something was wrong at once. He had a secret we had not found out, he was a periodic alcoholic that had huge rage issues when he was drunk. Today I was to learn that truth to well.

He was coming in to the kitchen. He takes one look at me and before I can ask him if he wants some coffee he grabs me by the neck and throws me across the room. I land, head first into the refrigerator and I must have passed out cause the next thing I remember is him kicking my head time after time. I cant do anything to defend myself apart from applying my teeth to his Achilles tenant and bite with all I have. It keeps him from kicking my head, now all he can do is push it into the fridge door.

I manage to keep this up until my baby brother arrives home, he uses his Karate training to hold our step-dad long enough for me to get out of the place.

I once again left home. I once again choose the streets. I´m not 18 years old yet, cant rent a room or an apartment. Its cold outside, I sit in a park wondering what to do next.

I remembered that I had the keys to the garbage room at work. At least it was dry and not to cold. During this time of my life I did drink way to much and way to often. I had to drink to be close to people, if they touched me even so innocently I panicked. With enough alcohol I could stand someone putting their hand on my shoulder, unless it came from the back. Alcohol had another positive side effect, it kept most of my nightmares away.

I turn 18 and place myself in line to rent a place to make my home. The waiting list is long.

Christmas comes, I take my siblings to our dad for the holiday, to stand it there I drink. I drink more than I ever done before. During this stay my mom calls, I have gotten an apartment, a small one but still.....It has a door that I can lock....and its mine.

I arrange so that she can pick up the key for me since I´m out of town and on new-years eve I fly home to move into my new home.

I had been drinking nonstop for 7 days, hardly slept at all and I was still very drunk leaving the plane. I had to refill the alcohol all day to stay on my feet and then when it was time for the party, I was almost unconscious.

I remember that night in bits and pieces up until 10 in the evening. After that I´m told I passed out. I don't know and will never know exactly what happened, but my first son was conceived that night.

I hated his father for using me like that. I felt violated yet again. I did get something worth all the pain I had gone though from this though and I suddenly had a reason to live and to fight.

We had a good life my baby and I. But good things don't last in my life.