Moms walking around naked

2020.11.29 20:10 mialbowy Moms walking around naked

Note: This is different to what I usually post, so I just wanted to give it some context. Rather than a story, this is more of a plot outline for a movie. Because it’s an outline, it moves quickly and glosses over details; because it’s for a movie, there’s a lot of moments where I try to describe an overly specific visual and use the narrative like a camera to focus on certain things.
The genre of the “movie” is a romcom with more of a focus on the (cringe) comedy and a side of romance—similar to There’s Something About Mary and Meet The Parents / Fockers—and an age rating on the border of PG and R (so probably R before some parts are cut or reworked). As an American-stylized film, any nudity or sexual acts would be censored through creative camera angles or otherwise implied without being shown. I see it as the sort of movie a couple might go see on a date, or that parents would unknowingly put on at Christmas and make their teen / young adult children very uncomfortable at certain points.
As a last note, I imagine that this movie comes from the studio who brought you such (imaginary) classics as “I Saw Daddy Kissing Santa Clause”.
Dyke The Halls Clarice (Rissy to her best friend and roommate Nelly) has her life all planned out: she’ll finish university, intern at a big bank, find a husband, and then “retire” to write obscure books that no one would ever want to read. She doesn’t think that’s too much to ask for, very flexible about everything else.
However, that future she dreams of gets turned upside down on the night of her twenty-first birthday (early September).
Against Nelly’s advice, Clarice takes up an offer from the quarterback of their college football team to go to a nightclub. Nelly drives her there anyway, waiting in the car while Clarice meets up with him and goes in. However, he leaves when she turns down his further advances. Since she’s already there, she has a few drinks and makes her way to the dancefloor.
Although a bit awkward at first, she gets the hang of it soon enough and, eventually, finds someone she likes dancing with. To her, the stranger is some kind of emo / goth / punk guy: fairly slender, dark black hair that’s short but a little grown out, dressed in tight black jeans and a black shirt; she can’t make out much of their face (bad lighting and her drinks are catching up with her), but there’s at least some eyeliner going on.
Well, she gets carried away with the dancing, both of them getting handsy, ending with a kiss. Not quite wanting it to end there, she asks, “Is there maybe room for me in your bed tonight?”
And the person chuckles, handing her something like a business card. “Text me when you’re sober.”
Clarice is disappointed, but takes it in stride and settles for another kiss for now.
A text then finally puts an end to things, Nelly checking if Clarice is okay, which Clarice takes as her cue to leave. And so Nelly is treated to Clarice gushing over her encounter with the stranger for the entire ride back to the dorms. While Nelly questions how this person fits into Clarice’s life plan, Clarice replies that, “It’s not like I’m going to fall in love and marry him.”
When morning comes, she’s giddy despite the minor hangover (she mumbles a thanks to Nelly for making her drink a big glass of water before going to bed) and, after a quick stop in the bathroom, she digs through her purse for the “business” card.
Only, once she finds it, it’s like someone dumped a bucket of cold water over her. Nelly was watching on with amusement, but the sudden change in Clarice’s mood worries her, so she asks what’s wrong.
Clarice simply shows Nelly the card; Nelly takes a couple of seconds to spot the “problem”, at which point she bursts into laughter. “Felicity’s a bit of a strange name for a guy,” she says, not at all helping Clarice’s mood. Once Nelly calms down, she carries on. “So what’s the problem?”
It takes Clarice a moment to find the right words. “It’s like, that’s the kind of guy I like, but not the kind of woman I like.”
Nelly rolls her eyes. “Seriously? Come on.”
Clarice scowls at her before sinking back into a depressed expression with a long sigh. “I guess… I can give her a chance,” Clarice mumbles, then speaks almost angrily as she says, “‘Felicity’ really doesn’t suit her.”
Nelly laughs at that, but says no more on it.
Despite Clarice’s initial shock, she quickly warms up to Felicity as they arrange a date over text (Nelly treated to giggles and smiles as Clarice stares at her phone). It turns out Felicity attends the same university, so they plan to meet up at the campus coffee shop this afternoon (not that far away, Clarice having slept through most of the morning).
After a quick lunch and a brief fashion show, Nelly recommends Clarice simply wears jeans and a pale blue shirt (“It’s just a coffee date, y’know?”). Clarice ignores her and goes for a pretty outfit: pink skirt, white blouse, cardigan, strappy sandals. Nelly warns her that summer has already ended, especially so far north, but her warnings are waved off. (“We’ll be inside anyway.”)
However, Clarice regrets her choice of outfit as soon as she leaves the dorms, but is too prideful to even go back for a coat. Walking as fast as she can, she crosses the campus to the coffee shop. She was going to order a coffee to warm herself up, but a fairly familiar Felicity catches her attention—and Felicity notices her too, striding over.
Before Clarice can even greet her, Felicity has taken off her leather jacket, carefully draping it over Clarice’s shoulders. And Clarice freezes up, so off-balance from the kind gesture. The gentle tone Felicity then uses to ask if she’s cold and how Felicity orders her a hot chocolate (pausing to ask her if she likes hot chocolates; she nods) only makes Clarice’s feelings more complicated.
They sit down with their drinks and Felicity gets to work breaking the ice, introducing herself. Most people call her Flick (Clarice thinks that suits her a lot more than Felicity) and she says she’s majoring in fashion. That surprises Clarice and she can’t hide it, Flick saying, “Surprised?” Clarice shakes her head, but Flick just chuckles and admits she was lying: she’s actually majoring in architecture with a minor in photography—the “business” card advertising her photography services.
From there, they chat a bit about university life, eventually touching on dating and relationships. Flick takes that topic right into a, “Are you interested in me?”
It’s sudden, but Clarice thinks it over for a second before nodding. “Are you?”
Flick breaks into a small smirk, and she nods. “Yeah, I am.”
After an awkward moment of avoiding each other’s gaze, their eyes meet and they laugh; both of them slowly reach over until their hands meet, giving a small squeeze. Flick then picks up the topic from before and brings it to sexuality and their sexual identities; Flick prefers the term dyke, while Clarice hesitantly admits she’s bi, relieved that that isn’t an issue to Flick.
From there, they touch on some of the issues they’ve had dating—notably, Flick has had problems with certain expectations because of her more butch appearance—and Clarice finishes by telling Flick what she told Nelly: she isn’t looking for a serious, long-term relationship. Flick jokes a bit, but agrees that they’ll see where it goes.

Cut to three months later. It’s early on a Friday morning in early December, Clarice and Flick lying naked in bed together, snuggled up. The room is tidy but for their clothes strewn across the floor, On the desk is: a laptop, printed photographs of Clarice posing in lingerie, an issue of the college newspaper, as well as wrapping paper and a book titled “The Adventures of Princesses Mary and Ann”.
Their peaceful slumber is disturbed by Clarice’s phone going off—the first time gets them stirring, but Clarice only sits up to find it after the second message comes in. While Clarice fiddles with her phone, Flick trails kisses up her back, coming all the way to her neck, at which point Clarice reaches up to push her away. “It’s my mom,” she mumbles.
“Checking if we’ve left yet?” Flick asks, resting her head against the back of Clarice’s shoulder.
Clarice takes a while to respond, her face showing complicated expressions. Her brother’s partner is coming for the early Christmas celebration her family is having, so her mother has asked if Flick wants to stay too (it’s a long drive for Flick just to pick up Clarice again a couple of days later). Clarice has an awkward back and forth with Flick over this where she eventually confesses that her parents assumed Flick was male and (since it’s not a serious relationship) she never corrected them, not to mention she hasn’t come out as bi to them.
Rather than annoyed or offended, Flick is just greatly amused by all this, laughing as she hugs Clarice. Flick ultimately says it’s up to Clarice to decide what’s best for her since it’s her family they’re talking about.
As a joke, Clarice asks Flick to pretend to be her boyfriend for the weekend, only for Flick to agree before she can say she was joking. Clarice double-checks if Flick is serious, and Flick says she is—but she also thinks there’s no way it’ll work and is agreeing mostly because she thinks it’ll be hilarious (and a little because she wants to meet Clarice’s family and spend more time with her).
Clarice struggles to come to a decision, but eventually decides to go ahead with it.
Cue a car trip montage as they travel through a couple of states to get to Clarice’s home, making it there just as the sun’s setting (which happens to be just in time for dinner, regardless of what time the sun actually sets and what time dinner is usually eaten).
Clarice has Flick stop the car around the corner. Flick is dressed in a more city outfit than her usual clothes: blue jeans, buttoned shirt with long sleeves (the cuffs rolled halfway up her forearms. Clarice fiddles with Flick’s hair and puts on some makeup that’s supposed to look like five o’clock shadow. For good measure, she gives Flick a kiss too and thanks her for doing this. In reply, Flick gives her a kiss and repeats that she thinks this is going to be a hilarious mess. The two share a chuckle / giggle, then Flick starts the car again, pulling up into the driveway, lit by the blinking Christmas decorations covering the front yard and house.
When they get out, Flick looks at the house and lets out a low whistle. Clarice asks if something’s wrong, and Flick asks if her family’s rich, Clarice asks why, Flick says the house is huge. Clarice doesn’t understand—all the small family houses in these parts are three storeys tall (with a loft conversion on top), four bedrooms and two guest rooms, multiple bathrooms, basement, and a back garden that’s just about big enough for a full-sized football pitch. Flick doesn’t say anything more about it.
So they get to the front door, Clarice having a last-minute meeting after pressing the doorbell, Flick nodding along with a serious expression. Just as Clarice finishes, the door swings open to reveal her parents and grandmother. She puts on a smile and awkwardly introduces Flick (her boyfriend) to them.
They’re all very sweet and welcoming: her mother, “Please call me Karen,” father, “Steve—like Captain America. You’ve seen those movies, right?” and grandmother, “Just call me Grandma—I forget what my name is these days.” Karen follows up with a, “She’s told us so much about you,” and Grandma chimes in with, “Didn’t mention you were such a stud.” Karen awkwardly laughs off Grandma’s comment and invites them inside.
As they’re coming in, Steve pulls Flick to the side (Clarice hovering nearby as Karen says to give them a minute). Steve then says, “I know I look like a nice guy, but that’s because my little princess is here. If you hurt her, she’s not going to be there to stop me, understand?”
Flick looks him up and down—glasses, thinning hair, beer belly, no hint of muscle—and holds back her smirk. “Yes, sir,” she says.
Steve gives her a last, hard look, and then bursts into a grin, giving her a heavy pat on the back. “I’ve always wanted to try that.” Turning around, he asks Karen, “How did I do, sweetie?”
Karen puts on a polite smile, definitely not at all condescending. “You did great, honeybuns.”
Clarice rolls her eyes.
Steve turns back to Flick and says, “Let me show you my gun collection,” as he starts walking to the basement door.
“D’you hunt?” Flick asks, following him.
“They’re nerf guns! He’s too scared to even touch the real thing! And what about our bags?” Clarice shouts after them, then shakes her head.
While Flick and Steve go into the basement, Karen says the bags can go up later and invites Clarice to the kitchen to help with dinner. Clarice agrees, but soon regrets it as Karen asks where she met Flick and similar questions, Clarice stumbling over her answers, repeatedly calling Flick “she” and correcting herself.
Clarice is soon saved by the family dog coming in from the garden: a Jack Russel Terrier, called Kennedy. While she fawns over him, Karen says he was probably flirting with the new dog next door. So Clarice asks him if he was seeing his girlfriend. Karen gives an awkward cough-laugh and then corrects her: the dog next is also male.
The room falls into an awkward silence until the sound of the basement door opening cuts through, along with Flick and Steve chatting. Clarice excuses herself, saying they (her and Flick) will go and put their bags up now.
So Clarice goes through and grabs Flick, leading her to the bags, making a comment how she hopes Steve behaved himself. Flick chuckles, says she’s impressed by his gun collection—Steve puffs up his chest, says he’s glad someone finally appreciates the beauty of the second amendment.
Clarice rolls her eyes as she grabs her suitcase, only for Flick to hold the handle too. “Let me carry them up,” she says.
Clarice looks unconvinced, her expression saying, “Really?”
Flick slips into a smirk. “Gotta make a good impression as your boyfriend, right?”
Clarice crumbles, reluctantly letting go, at which point Flick hoists the suitcase up with no sign of strain, holding it under her arm. Still feeling bad about it, Clarice hurriedly picks up Flick’s bag (a lighter gym / duffel bag). She then quickly starts walking before Flick can say anything, telling Flick to follow her. Flick chuckles as she starts following Clarice.
The two go upstairs and into one of the rooms there—the door has a fancy, self-made nameplate, complete with artistic handwriting and glitter and a not-so-subtle bisexual pride color scheme.
The bedroom itself is large with a full-on King-sized bed, study desk, and every other piece of bedroom furniture imaginable, while also having plenty of room to move around and a broad window with an idyllic view. Flick takes a look around and asks again if Clarice’s family is rich; Clarice again denies it while opening the door to a comically large walk-in closet that appears to be the size of a long hallway.
While Clarice changes into some fresh clothes, Flick opens her sports bag. Because of the sudden change of plans this morning, the bag’s a mess, crumpled clothes and a box of tampons showing, as well as (what looks like) a belt of some kind. Clarice asks Flick to get something from her suitcase, so Flick just takes out a can of deodorant and leaves her own bag not zipped up.
While Flick hands over the thing to Clarice, she asks about Clarice’s grandfather—if he has passed away. Clarice laughs and says that he hates Christmas, so they send him to a resort in Vegas for a month. Flick finds this more bizarre than funny, her expression showing that.
Cut to an indeterminate time later, Clarice is all dolled up in a pretty dress (something more on the cute side than sexy). Flick takes a moment to appreciate the outfit until Karen calls out that dinner’s ready. They leave the bedroom, making their way downstairs.
The dining room is, like every other room, large and quaintly decorated. There’s only the five of them too, so the table seems hugely spacious as they’re all crammed up at one end: Karen and Steve on one side, Clarice and Flick opposite, Grandma at the end of the table. Similarly, the quantity of food is over-the-top; when Clarice and Flick come in, Clarice looks at the food with surprise, then looks at Karen, to which Karen shyly shrugs and says, “You know how much young men eat.”
Flick laughs at that, but Clarice looks worried. Regardless, they join the others at the table. While everyone tries to fill Flick’s plate with comments like, “You have to try this,” Clarice tries to intervene, ultimately ending up with a plate that’s even more full than Flick’s. Karen makes a joke about “eating for two”, but Clarice quickly insists that that’s not possible, realizing a moment later that that would be suspicious, so awkwardly adds on that, “We’re very safe.”
Flick quickly follows up with, “We even wear shin guards,” which breaks up the atmosphere as everyone laughs. Once they all calm down and start eating, Clarice leans over and whispers a thank, to which Flick says, “Should I tell them about our safe word too?”
Caught entirely by surprise, Clarice chokes, prompting everyone to look at her. She waves them off, trying to gesture that she was okay, and then taking a big drink of water.
“Is that a red, then?” Flick whispers, really emphasizing “red”.
Clarice chokes again.
Once everything settles down, she elbows Flick and calls her a bitch under her breath. Flick takes it in stride, whispering, “Specifically, your bitch.” Clarice can’t help but laugh this time, prompting Karen to sigh and say to Steve, “Ah, young love.” Clarice back in embarrassed territory, she forbids Flick from any more flirting.
Before Flick can give a reply, there’s a series of thuds coming from another room. Everyone looks at each other (Steve seemingly counting everyone on his fingers) until Clarice says, “It’s probably just Kennedy.” A moment later, she’s proven right as he shuffles into the room, butt first. Clarice turns back to the table to say, “See?”
However, she’s met by a very strange expression on Karen’s and Steve’s face, and they awkwardly look away. Before she can ask why, Flick clears her throat and, when Clarice looks at her, she gestures back to the doorway behind them.
Clarice finally looks back at Kennedy, and her face falls right down as she sees what Kennedy brought downstairs: a strap-on from Flick’s bag. For an incredibly long second, she just stares, then jumps to her feet to take it away from Kennedy, hiding it behind her back as she faces everyone at the table again. Although trying to smile, it keeps morphing into an embarrassed wince, and she keeps going to speak only to change her mind at the last second.
Eventually, she gives a nervous laugh and then says, “This is… mine.”
There’s a long moment of silence, then Grandma says to Flick, “She takes after me.”
Flick loses it, laughing into her elbow as she turns to the side; the others are still silent, awkward expressions. After a few seconds, Clarice starts shuffling back as she says, “I’ll just… put this back.”
Without any remorse for leaving Flick there, she runs upstairs. Meanwhile, Flick goes back to eating, Grandma doing the same right after, and Karen and Steve do the same after giving Flick a last confused look.
(The dog is around in future scenes, but isn’t the focus of anything else that happens.)
When Clarice returns, she silently sits down… and is confronted by the mountain of food still to eat. She gives it a pained look before digging in. Time skips forward, everyone else finished eating except for Clarice; her plate has moved to between her and Flick, and Flick is helping her.
Somehow, they finish the last of it, Clarice practically heaving, cradling her bloated stomach. However, when Karen stands up to clear the table, Clarice forces herself up and offers to do it; Flick helps her without asking or saying, the two of them carrying needlessly tall stacks of plates through to the kitchen. There, Clarice starts running the taps to wash the plates, and Grandma comes through, telling Flick to, “Let this old lady get some work in while she still can.” Flick reluctantly gives in after Clarice gives her a look that says it’s fine.
Alone with Grandma, the two start washing up. After a couple of easy questions, Grandma says, “About Flick.”
“What about her—him?” Clarice says, again stumbling over the gender.
Grandma puts on an almost intense expression, apparently thinking hard. “Is he… DTF? No, FTM.”
Clarice almost drops the plate she’s holding, eyes wide and mouth like a goldfish’s as she doesn’t know what to say. “Sorry, what are you asking?” she awkwardly says.
Grandma lets out a big sigh. “Trans, dear. Is he trans? It’s just, these old eyes didn’t see any jingle bells or a candy cane.”
Clarice awkwardly laughs, dragging it out as she desperately thinks over what she can possibly say to that. She eventually decides on simply chastising Grandma for looking at Flick’s crotch (in a less direct manner).
“I just worry you’re not being satisfied, that’s all. If you’re going to marry someone, start a family, and slowly come to resent them, then at least the angry sex should be good,” Grandma replies.
Clarice can only bow her head and mutter, “I’m… being satisfied.”
“That’s all good, then,” Grandma says.
Cut to the lounge a couple of minutes later, Clarice comes through with Grandma, the others sitting around and talking. Karen says they were just talking about Flick’s courses at university and that it sounds interesting and they’d like to see some of Flick’s photography. Clarice, knowing what kind of photos Flick likes taking, forces a smile and tries to move the topic to architecture.
Rather than that, Karen asks Flick how they met. Of course, Flick honestly says at a nightclub—Clarice had earlier told Karen at the library. Clarice immediately turns to Flick with a look of, “Don’t say another word,” before turning back to her parents and letting out an awkward laugh. “I saw her—I mean him, I saw him at the library and we, um, then I bumped into him when Nelly dragged me to a nightclub. For my birthday. She said it would be a waste not to, so we had one drink and drove home. I mean, I had a drink—she obviously didn’t since she was driving. And we bumped into him there.”
There’s a long pause after she finishes before Flick clears her throat and then says, “A very romantic meeting.” That breaks the tension, everyone letting out a laugh; relieved, Clarice reaches over to hold Flick’s hand, giving it a squeeze.
Cut to some time later, TV on in the background, Steve lets out a yawn and Karen comments on the time. Grandma excuses herself first, citing her age, and Steve says we (him and Karen) should be on their way too. Once those three leave the room, Clarice lets out a sigh, deflating against Flick. Flick wraps an arm around her, other hand coming over to stroke the top of her head.
“Tired?” Flick asks.
“Like a bicycle.”
Flick laughs and leans over, leaving a light kiss on Clarice’s head. In an unspoken agreement, they stand up and head to Clarice’s bedroom. She goes ahead to the bed, crashing onto it, and then turns her head to warn Flick that her father installed all the locks in the house and they’re upside down. Flick doesn’t understand at first, so Clarice clarifies that, rather than the expected clockwise-to-lock, it’s anti-clockwise. Flick still doesn’t entirely get it, so she fiddles with the door for a moment, quickly understanding.
“That’s really weird,” she says.
Clarice laughs and says, “Yup,” adding on that you get used to it eventually.
Once Flick makes sure the door is actually locked, she comes over and sits down next to Clarice (sitting down heavily enough to lightly trampoline Clarice). She then resumes petting duties, stroking Clarice’s head.
After a bit of that, Clarice rolls over and pulls Flick down on top of her (at a bit of an angle, not flush on top). They then start a whispered conversation.
Clarice starts by apologizing for Steve, saying she hopes he wasn’t too much. Flick says she didn’t mind, but Clarice doubles down, mentioning that Flick’s like the son he never had. After a brief pause, a confused Flick says, “Don’t you have an older brother?”
Clarice’s face scrunches up. “I mean, my dad wanted the movie son—playing catch in the garden and little league and fiddling with car engines. But Richard grew up on games consoles and the PC.”
Flick thinks for a moment and then asks about Clarice’s sister’s husband (the brother-in-law). Clarice makes another complicated expression. Not sure what to say, she just says that it was a bit of a rushed wedding (Flick chuckles) and that BIL isn’t really what Steve is looking for.
Flick finishes that conversation with a, “But I am?”
Clarice giggles, but confirms that, “You saw, right? My dad would be very happy with you as his son-in-law.”
While those words fade into silence, Flick checks with Clarice if they really are going to continue pretending she’s a guy. Clarice squeezes her tightly and mutters, “It’s just easier for everyone this way.”
Flick shows a somber expression, but says nothing, squeezing Clarice back.
Fade to black and cut to the morning. Breakfast is just finishing up, Karen taking the plates through while Steve sits there with a newspaper and Grandma is knitting a scarf (not very well, more of a bird’s nest). The doorbell rings and so Clarice stands up, saying she’ll get it, and Flick tags along. On the way, Clarice says it should be her brother, Richard.
True enough, when she opens the door, Richard is there with his partner. Only, it’s a man. Clarice is surprised and Richard picks up on it, asking if something is wrong. Clarice laughs to cover her awkwardness and then quietly asks if the man is his boyfriend. Richard sort of clicks his tongue and gives her a what-are-you-talking-about look. Covering her tracks, Clarice says, “I mean, obviously I knew you were gay all along, I just didn’t know you’d come out to mom and dad.”
Richard laughs and says, “They’re the ones who introduced us,” before learning in and whispering, “Same with my last boyfriend.”
Clarice offers a weak smile and transitions into greeting Richard’s boyfriend, Peter. Peter is a well-groomed, normal-looking guy that could be found in any office place. Clarice then introduces her “boyfriend”, Flick. Richard gives Flick a good look. “He’s cute,” Richard says, then says to Flick, “If things don’t work out with her, I know a few guys who’d be interested.”
Flick chuckles and thanks him, but declines and says, “I’m not interested in guys.”
“Lucky you—I wouldn’t be if I had the choice,” Richard says, sparing Peter an unimpressed look.
Peter gives Richard a flirty slap on the waist with the back of his hand in a “stop it, you’re terrible” gesture; he says to Richard, “Really?”
They all have a short laugh over that, then Steve calls through, asking what’s taking so long. So they all file in and greet Karen, Steve, and Grandma. Karen and Steve ask after Peter’s parents, while Grandma asks Richard a vaguely inappropriate question (along the lines of the “Are you satisfied?” she asked Clarice), which Richard answers without hesitation. Clarice and Flick are left out for a bit, but Richard soon brings Peter over, eager to get to know the “guy who finally nailed down my sister” (with a noticeable emphasis on nailed).
Somewhat offended, somewhat embarrassed, Clarice asks what exactly he meas by that. Richard laughs it off and says it’s just that she’s never brought a boy home before. Clarice responds by saying that it’s not like Flick’s the first person she’s dated, just that she’s been more focused on studying than getting in a serious relationship.
Richard takes that comment straight to Flick. “Hear that? She likes you more than her GPA.” Although Clarice isn’t impressed by this interpretation of what she said, Flick breaks into laughter, taking it as the highest compliment.
Despite Richards joking, the conversation goes in the direction he initially said as he asks Flick questions. “What’s Flick short for?” “Felix,” Clarice hastily says. When it comes to Flick’s courses, Richard and Peter both show interest in photography, commenting that a few of their friends are photographers—Richard adding that some are professionals, and the others get paid more; Peter laughs at the joke, Flick and Clarice offering a polite chuckle.
Flick mentions she has her laptop with her, so Richard and Peter encourage her to show them some of her work. Clarice is reluctant, but understands that two gay men should see Flick’s photos as purely artistic. So, when Flick looks at her with a “Can I?” expression, she nods.
While Flick goes upstairs, Richard takes the conversation to a more personal level. “You’re happy with him?” “He treats you well?” Clarice is suitably bashful in her affirmations, very much appearing the maiden-in-love, and Richard smiles, congratulating her. After she thanks him, he sneaks in a last curveball: “So, do you think he’s the one?”
With perfect timing, Flick comes back before Clarice can answer, but she’s suitably thrown by the question and in a bit of a daze as Flick puts her laptop on the coffee table and opens it up. This quickly brings Clarice back as she’s mortified by what’s on the screen, her eyes opening wide and the color draining from her face. Meanwhile, Flick’s not showing any expression, and Richard and Peter are nodding as they look, pensive.
Clarice recovers after a second and reaches over, closing the laptop. There’s a slight, awkward pause, and then she says, “That, uh, was Flick’s sister! Twin… sister….”
Richard turns to Peter. “It was a good composition, wasn’t it?” “I loved the lighting—it almost looked like a heat map of the male gaze.” “Ah! That’s exactly it, isn’t it? This is like… the reduction of the female form, a criticism of the straight-male dominated society.” “Yes! Such a beautiful figure, yet it is shrouded in darkness as all men see are the tits and ass.”
Clarice can’t decide between wishing the ground would open up and swallow her… or them, while Flick just nods along and lets them come to their own conclusion. Only when they finish talking it out and address her does she say, “It’s a Christmas present.”
Richard elbows Peter and whispers, “I told you.” Peter rubs where he was elbowed, playing it off as something more painful than it was.
And Clarice tries to sink even deeper into the couch.
She’s then “saved” by Karen asking for her help in the kitchen. Although reluctant to leave Flick, Flick mouths, “I’ll be fine,” so Clarice goes ahead.
Cut to an hour or so later, Clarice comes back to the lounge to see that Steve has joined the other three, watching a talk show about soccer. She sits next to Flick, who whispers to her that it’s the MLS Cup final tonight. Clarice responds that Steve nor Richard have ever watched soccer before.
That gets a chuckle out of Flick, the two mentioned look away, Peter needling Richard. Clarice then asks why they’re even watching this; Steve mumbles that Flick mentioned she played soccer at high school. Flick confirms that.
Only, Richard adds that Steve asked Flick if she watched any sports, and she said women’s soccer. Clarice winces. Before she can say anything, though, the doorbell rings. She jumps to her feet, dragging Flick with her to the hallway. Ignoring what just happened, she says to Flick that this should be her sister, brother-in-law, and nieces.
Sure enough, when they open the door, the family of four is standing there: Louise, Nathaniel, Anne-Marie (8 years old), Marianne (6 years old).
Clarice warmly greets Louise and the girls, a more cordial but still polite greeting for Nathaniel, and she then introduces her “boyfriend” to them. Louise and Nathaniel are polite, while Anne-Marie squints at Flick, Marianne seeing that and then copying her sister. Louise gives a brief, awkward laugh and encourages the girls to greet Flick, which they do, albeit while still looking at her with suspicion.
Eager to move things on, Clarice leads them through to the lounge. Once everyone has greeted everyone (notably, the girls greet Peter without the same suspicion), Louise notices the soccer and the television and (like Clarice did) questions why it’s on when Steve and Richard never watched it before.
So the topic comes back to Flick having played it in high school. Now, this sets Anne-Marie off, and she rushes over to Flick to ask if that’s true. Flick answers yes, Anne-Marie practically squealing. Louise offers a little apology and asks Anne-Marie to calm down, then adds that Anne-Marie became a bit of a fan when the women’s team did well at the world cup.
This transitions into Anne-Marie begging Flick to play soccer, somehow roping most of the gathered family into it as well. So they all go outside, get out a soccer ball and two goals (five-a-side / children’s sized). While Steve tries to arrange teams (and finding every adult moderately unwilling), Flick shows off a bit for Anne-Marie, keepie-uppies and balancing and (at Anne-Marie’s insistence) she kicks a penalty, slamming it into the back of the (unguarded) net.
Any chance Steve has for getting a game going evaporates at that, every adult except Clarice and Louise turning around and walking back into the house (“I’m not standing in the way of that.”) Meanwhile, Anne-Marie has been going crazy, gushing with praise for Flick and already begging her to do another penalty kick. Flick’s a bit unused to the praise, but can’t refuse the enthusiastic requests coming from Anne-Marie (often parroted by Marianne).
Cue a montage as Flick goes through some training exercises, poor Steve put in goal as she shows him up with a supercut of goals (shooting from a distance, headers, fancy footwork that gets around him), and a bit of mentoring as she teaches Anne-Marie some things.
That montage is interspersed with “sexy” shots of Flick working up a sweat, wearing a tank top that shows off her muscled arms, shots of her running a hand through her a-bit-long-on-the-top hair—and Clarice is loving it, biting her lip, looking away all embarrassed when Flick winks at her.
The soccer is interrupted by Karen announcing lunch will be soon. Flick mentions she should freshen up, Louise having to intercede when Anne-Marie starts whining. And Clarice only has eyes for Flick, and Flick knows it, pausing on the way for a short kiss that drags a long sigh out of Clarice when they separate. That distracts Anne-Marie, disgusted by the PDA and telling them to get a room. Clarice giggles, then walks into the house, followed by Louise and the girls.
Steve is left in the garden, lying on the ground by the goal, wheezing.
While Clarice stays in the kitchen to help (where the back door leads to), Louise and the girls go through to the lounge, Marianne saying she needs the toilet. Clarice thinks nothing of it, even as she hears a pair of light footsteps going upstairs.
However, there’s soon a child’s shout, followed by running down the stairs. Attracted by the noise, everyone (except Steve and Flick) goes to the various doorways in time to hear Anne-Marie (standing with Marianne) announce that Flick was wearing a bra.
Clarice instantly understands what happened and desperately tries to come up with something. She’s given a moment to think as Louise tries to shush Anne-Marie, saying A-M shouldn’t talk about things like that in public; Anne-Marie counters by saying that, “You said I had to tell you right away if I saw daddy wearing your bra again.”
This leads to a very heavy silence, despite the expressions varying between mild shock and the flat expressions of someone trying not to smirk (Richard and Peter, Grandma a bit amused herself).
Louise awkwardly laughs it off and steers the girls out of the room, whispering that they’ll talk about this later. On the way out of the room, Flick comes down the stairs and joins them—wearing fresh clothes, her face clean, hair a bit damp—and Louise apologizes to Flick; Flick just waves it off, saying it’s her fault for not locking the door properly.
This brings everyone’s attention to Flick and Clarice feels like it’s a very judgmental attention, sure that, any moment, someone will ask about it. Under that pressure, she speaks up, only to stutter as now she’s the focus, before carrying on. “Uh, it’s… for chafing,” she says. “Since Flick likes to run. She—he was telling me this morning that… he wanted to go for a run before lunch, but I guess he worked up a sweat anyway.” She trails off with a forced laugh, looking away.
A silence follows, but is soon broken by Karen saying that everyone should sit down for lunch; Clarice pulls Flick through to help bring out the food.
With all the extra guests, the table is more reasonably sized this time, pretty much full without being too crowded. And with less focus on Flick’s plate, she and Clarice have more reasonable portions this time. That goes for the conversation too, most of the questions going to Peter as well as the girls, leaving Flick free to constantly flirt with Clarice—small touches and whispered comments; while no one comments on their flirting, everyone sees them doing it at some point or another.
After helping to clear up lunch, Clarice excuses herself and Flick to go study. Richard makes a joke about what exactly they’ll be studying, but Clarice just rolls her eyes and leads Flick upstairs.
Safely in Clarice’s room, she falls onto her bed, muttering about being exhausted. Flick chuckles and sits down next to her, rubbing her back. When it seems like Clarice isn’t going to say anything else, Flick asks if she wants to come clean with her family (“Should we just tell them about me?”) Clarice scrunches up her face, but mumbles back a no. “No one suspects anything, so it’s easier like this.”
Flick keeps it to herself that she thinks there’s probably a lot of suspicion going on.
Although Flick gets a bit handsy, kissing Clarice’s nape, Clarice insists on actually studying. Flick takes it in stride, stopping her advances and helping Clarice to her feet. While Clarice takes her laptop and notepads out of her suitcase, she asks if Flick really did play soccer in high school. Flick says she did. After a second, Clarice softly says she didn’t know. Flick says she tries not to talk about herself since Clarice is gonna break up with her at the end of the year. “Make it a bit easier on both of us,” she says, her tone making it sound like a joke, but it’s a joke neither of them laugh at.
Clarice feels like she’s made things awkward between them, but she can’t think of what to say to smooth things over, hiding behind her laptop. After a bit, Flick gets her laptop out too; when she opens it, Clarice sneaks a glance—and what she sees makes it hard to focus. (For clarity, it was a nude shot of Flick earlier, and Flick hasn’t done anything else with it since.) Clarice blushes, tries to focus on her work, but often sneaks more glances at Flick’s laptop.
They’re eventually called down for dinner (at dusk). Flick closes her laptop and looks over, a worried expression coming to her when she sees Clarice. “Are you alright?” she asks.
Clarice, who could be found in the dictionary under “hot and bothered”, shakes her head. “I’m fine.”
Flick doesn’t laugh off the reply, coming over to feel Clarice’s forehead. Clarice lets her, but looks away as soon as Flick takes back her hand. “No fever—d’you need some water?” Flick tugs at the collar of her own shirt. “It is a bit hot in here….”
“Let’s not keep everyone waiting,” Clarice says, hurrying to her feet. Flick, still worried, holds Clarice’s hand, walks closely to her the whole way down the stairs, only then letting go.
submitted by mialbowy to mialbowy [link] [comments]

2020.11.29 18:31 TreeFrogsAreLife Moms naked around walking

I will start with my first memories of her calling me fat. My mom wears a size 16 pants. In the last year and a half, I gained like 40 pounds, and am no longer the same size as her. Below are incidents that have stuck in my mind for whatever reason, my mom denys a of them except the one at 9 years old.
8 years old: My mom would always tell me to get my fat ass up and start cleaning, start doing what she wanted. She would call my dad names about being fat also. I remember crying one time when I was around 8 because she would always call me fat, and then tell me it was a "saying." It's not a saying. Calling someone a fat ass is not a saying.
9 years old: I wrote my name as "Fatso [last name]" on my homework, and forgot to erase it before turning it in. I got in trouble at school for this, and the principal called my mom and asked her why I wrote this. I had been making fun of a kid in my class to my mom for always wearing the same dirty grey sweatpants every day. I was 9. Of course I didn't consider anything beyond that he wore the same clothes. My mom then said what if someone made fun of me for being fat? I told her I didn't care, even though I did. I wrote it on my homework to be spiteful and show her I didn't care. I had to talk to counselors about this and I lied and told them I felt fine about myself.
12 years old: my mom would still call me a fat ass, she would tell me I have a flat and disgusting butt and wide hips, huge legs. I am really self concious of my butt and legs and hips to this day when actually I have a nice butt and a very good hourglass shape even though I am still fat, but I can't ever erase her making fun of me, and it's just stuck in my mind. Nobody else except an ex boyfriend has ever made fun of me for being fat or ugly. Nobody.
15 years old: I am a size 14. I am 6'0" and just a big person. I am completely fine with it. My best friend's sister comments on a facebook post and told me I was so beautiful. I think I am. My mom told me to remember that she probably meant I was beautiful on the inside.
16 years old: I need more clothes for school, mine were getting old, pants slightly too tight. I quit playing sports at school. I will wear a 16/18 moving forward. This is my usual size and I'll always be this size until I gained weight from an abusive relationship last year, I have been stable with weight again ever since. My mom told me that while I have a pretty face, no man will be interested once he sees me from behind because my butt and my hips are disgusting. I need to lose weight because men will never ever be interested in me. This was the most damaging thing she ever said to me. I remember I walked away and I went into the office in our home and I sat on the ground and almost cried, I did cry later about it. I stayed there and felt numb for a moment. My own mom thinks I'm ugly. I'm not ugly. My mom would always compare my skin to other classmates' skin, and tell me she's never seen such oily skin before. My skin is still very oily and I am 26 now. I also remember my mom telling me she knew my crotch smelled bad, and she would openly talk about my crotch smelling like walking into a restroom after a dirty woman. I don't remember ever smelling bad, but I am very very paranoid about smelling bad now.
17 years old: I start texting a boy I like. I took a naked photo and send it to him. It was just me standing in a mirror. I had no idea about sex appeal. Nothing. I was a virgin until I was 19. I didn't understand how to take a photo to be sexy or anything. My mom took my phone when she found out I had been talking to this boy for over 2 years. She found out about my naked photo. She told me this boy was ugly and he only wanted naked photos from me because I'm beautiful. The next day were my senior photos, and I stayed up all night crying because my mom told me I wasn't allowed to talk to that boy anymore, that no man wants to be with a slut and that I would go to jail for sending a minor a naked photo. We were both the same age, he was 6 months younger than me though.
Anything after the naked photo incident until I was 24 had little impact. By that point I felt disgusting. I still feel disgusting. I have a loving boyfriend now, and honestly it makes me want to cry. Last night I told him about what my mom said to me when I was 16, and he seemed shocked, and told me not to worry because I'm so beautiful and sexy and he knows everyone else knows too.
24 years old: I broke up with my ex boyfriend (dates almost 6 years) because for 2 years he was very abusive to me. I couldn't make myself leave for the longest time. My mom made fun of me for not leaving. I told her I was too embarrassed to come home because I gained 40 pounds. She said I probably only gained 15. I gained 40. I flew back to where my parents lived to move back, and when my dad picked me up at the airport the first thing he did was hug me and then he told me I was fat. From this day moving forward I have regretted moving home again because it seemed like I left one abusive situation and have gotten into another with my mom. My mom has picked at me and picked little things and told me they are why my ex didn't want to be with me. She has told me I am so beautiful and to stop looking for compliments when I ask her how I look or if an outfit looks bad or my face or hair before I go out. She has also told me she can call me fat and disgusting because I am her daughter and I have no rights while living at her house. And then other times she's very pleasant and fun.
Last week (I'm a month away from being 26) my new boyfriend came over. He is the nicest guy, but he's a chubby dude. He has such nice features and he's a very pleasant, nice, and genuine man, I can look past him being fat. My mom started making fun of my dad for being fat while we were eating dinner, and said that we could all be the size of [dad's name] if we just keep eating during the holiday or something dumb and mean. She thought this was funny. It wasn't funny. My boyfriend is bigger than my dad. His chest and arms and really big and on top of it he's chubby af, so he just looks very big, and he's like 6'3". I was SO embarrassed. My boyfriend said "OR you can just keep on going and become the size of ME! I've won!" And he laughed like it was funny. It wasn't funny. I was mortified. All of it was said like a joke, but it makes me extremely sad. Today I got up and my mom told me she ordered my dad protein shakes because he's so fat, and she told me that she told him if he gets "any huger" that she doesn't want to be with him. My dad isn't huge. My boyfriend isn't huge. They're just big people and on top of it they're chubby. Neither of them are disgusting. I talked to my dad about this before I brought my boyfriend home to meet my parents because I was so nervous that my mom would say something about my boyfriend being fat. My dad said well, you love me, right? I'm fat. Why can't you like someone else who is fat? It doesn't matter if he's fat.
My mom is SO focused on everyone else being fat or annoying or just stupid. She counts what you eat during the day and will tell you about it if she doesn't like it. My dad and my boyfriend get along so well and talk a lot of I bring him over. The last time they were talking my mom was telling my dad that nobody cares about the details, and she did the little hand talking gesture "gabbing" and shook her head like she couldn't stand it. She does this when my grandma, her mother, talks too. My mom is constantly annoyed by everyone. Nobody can do anything right except her.
submitted by TreeFrogsAreLife to raisedbynarcissists [link] [comments]

2020.11.29 16:52 alexalynnrogers Moms naked around walking

The first dream started at my grandmas house, where I opened the front door and to the left, at a good distance away, was a giant tornado that was very very slowly moving across an open field (all the houses around my grandmas house didn’t exist for some reason, just a road and field). Then, the next thing I remember is being outside with my mom at night time. I’ve always loved Astronomy and I have a telescope so I know what the planets look like with the naked eye and can easily identify them in the sky. In this dream, I looked up and saw Mars directly above us. I was thinking “oh cool, I’ll point it out to my mom”. That was, until Mars literally teleported down a few inches in the sky (inches as in if you reached your arm straight out to measure). Then, it would move like a streak in the sky, teleport back up, etc. Just skipping around in a straight line, as if it was a glitch in the matrix. I remember a line in the Bible, look at my mom and say “there will be signs in the heavens”. That’s when I woke up, terrified, feeling existential dread and just generally uncomfortable.
The second one was a couple nights ago. I have a carport that has my bunnies inside, so I was just relaxing out there in my dream, as I often do. For some reason, the carport was in a different place than normal, on the side of my house instead of the front (where it is located in real life). Another strange thing was that my cat was with me and she is a strictly indoor cat. If you open the door while she’s at the door, she freaks out and runs away, so it makes no sense that she would be out there with me but dreams do be weird so whatever. Anyways, I noticed that my cat was freezing and I got worried about her. I walked out of the carport and glanced into the sky (as I often do), directly above the shed in the very back of my side yard. There were somewhere between 8 and 10 moons in a straight horizontal line in the sky. Each moon was in a different phase (like one was a half moon, one was a full, one was a crescent, etc.) but they were not in order. It wasn’t like those moon phase diagrams where it goes from crescent, to full, and back to crescent. It was more like if you took the moon out of the sky every few days for a month, and then laid them out in a straight line, in a completely random order. Then, I had the exact same thought as I did in the first dream, “there will be signs in the heavens” and then woke up feeling the same way I did after the first dream.
It’s starting to really freak me out at this point. I do listen to scary stories before I fall asleep, but it’s not like they ever have anything to do with space or the planets. I do listen to videos about space, but I always have, so there’s no reason for it to suddenly be the main focus of my dreams. Also, I rarely ever remember my dreams, but these were very vivid and real feeling both before and after I woke up. I will say, I have been having an existential crisis recently so that’s probably contributing. I guess I just wanted to see if anybody has had a similar dream or an explanation or a suggestion, I would love to hear. Thank you for reading this if you’ve made it here lol.
submitted by alexalynnrogers to Dreams [link] [comments]

2020.11.28 11:11 kyr1eirving11 Moms walking around naked

So I dont have the full details and remember everything exact but im going to start off and say I was not the best kid in the world. I'm 22 almost 23 now. If your sensitive to physical, emotional (I think I'm not really sure about that one tbh), and a piece of sexual (I was told this was normal but my whole family is kinda trash so idk about that either sorry)
Ok so before I was born according to my mom she and my dad were chasing the dragon. She has 5 kids now 1 before my dad 3 with my dad and 1 after my dad and im right in the middle. She has a W.P. tattoo on her back left shoulder.
So onto my story now I was born December 7, 1997 in Virginia Beach, VA. I dont have any memories before the age of 5 but around 3 my parents left my older bro, older sis, and younger bro in a hotel room while they took me to my aunts house while my siblings got to go to different peoples houses. The reason they took me is always different my mom said it was her or me, my dad said it was a spur of the moment as they both were wanted by the police, my grand parents told me they were going to trade me for drugs. Idk which is right. But anyway at my aunts house I lived there for about 5ish years and there I had 1 older really close friend that passed and I never got to say goodbye to which I fn hate to this day. My uncle and aunt got divorced and I wouldn't see my uncle again until I was like 12 or 13. I started getting "smacked" basically hit with a belt or wooden spoon I would say pretty normal so far. But one day around age 6ish I was using the bathroom and my cousin walks in and asks if she can in a professional way give me oral pleasure however she said it different obviously as she was about 9 or 10 and I said yes not knowing what that was at the time( the 1 sexual abuse that I didnt know if it was story). There was another time I dont remember my age but my aunt said if I pull down my pants and underwear without being told or forced to I would get 1 smack well she lied and have me about 5 or so which is where my trust issues began. Now I did act like a kid I broke things etc. however if my cousins did anything wrong they could blame it on me and I would get punished for it so I got that "normal" 1 to 2 hits pretty frequently and I wasn't allowed to try and prove my innocents so now I have trouble talking about my feelings or really about most things. Age 8 and im starting to visit my mom and i was navigating full airports by myself (pre 9/11). That's the main stuff from those ages short and sweet sorry I make jokes to try and help myself sometimes.
Now onto ages 8-14 maybe 15 sorry. So I am finally living with my biological mom my dad is a jailbird junkie. Very 1st night my sister showers and comes into our room to get dressed she's butt naked not even a towel and its only a 2 bedroom apartment. So now I've seen her bush which is disturbing to day the least but she's going about it like im not even there. Moving on about 2 weeks or so into my stay I was sitting on the love seat and my sister comes out of our room and for no reason I'm 8 still she wraps her hands around my throat to kill me she's like 15 or 16 trying to kill an 8 year old but my mom comes in the front door 1 minute later and I would be dead and my mom and sister get into a real street fist fight in front of me and the cops are called it wasn't the 1st time or the last yet. Nkw fast forward to my very 1st birthday with my mom. Omg I think it'll be the first day of actual peace maybe ill even get to celebrate it with my whole family nope my mom walks in the front door and my sister and mom almost immediately start fighting again yay right so the cops come yet again for the last major time they've been here at least 15 times since I moved in for reference and my sister gets taken away in handcuffs my mom goes to her and my grandmas room they share with my youngest bro and doesn't come put for the rest of the day so my whole first birthday with my mom was spent alone as a 9 year old. So fast forward again to the day we move and this is where I get worse. We lived around 5 maybe 6 minutes walking distance to Wal-Mart and I start stealing petty items like a kid (pokemon cards, toys, game boy games, etc.) And I was stealing off and on before that but it got worse after we moved. So first day in the new house and my mom grabs my hand and says she bets I can't knock her over so as were both pulling back I did a wwe move and collided my shoulder with her and put her on her a$$ and went outside on the steps and cried right after. Fast forward a few weeks and I meet my 1st "friend" who got me into stealing more expensive items usually football gloves as I was into football at the time which the cheapest pair I stole was around $50 so not to cheap from dicks sporting goods as well as hitting more stores in the walmart strip mall 5 below ds game stop thats it I think. So anyway my sister has stopped fighting my mom and tries me so I was in a corner while she hit me 2 times and I grabbed the fat part of her thigh right where the cheek meets thigh and pinched it so hard I drew blood. My mom defended me but said "you back an animal into a corner and they fight back" what a use of words am I right. So I am very fuzzy with ages so I'm not going to give them but im going to try and remember all the details and outcomes. So everytime I acted out my mom who was about 350 give or take would sit on my stomach and punch me not unlike a street or mma type of fight and I would assume the fetal position until she wore herself out and it happened pretty frequently sometimes one a day other times 2 or 3 times a day also should mention that I was a bed wetter until I was 19 was my last incident and I would sleep in it like how an animal would rub themselves in something g to mask their scent to other predators it was along those same reasons however I showered every day. In this house the worst thing I did was steal money from my grand mom who had breast cancer which I felt shitty right after and before anyone talks about that I want to say that I not only apologized but found out through basic context clues and behavior of my mom that at least one of my grand parents abused my mom probably sexually and ill get into that later but the other one had to know. So around this time my mom starts making really and very sexual "jokes" to my sister basically pinching her ass and a few porn ready types of looking back were probably advances tbh. I mean she did everything except actually have sex with her so yeah. Moving on I was already messed up in my head but around 10 last age I can remember a little bit I got to watch criminal minds with my mom yay mommy time lol but the episode was the one of the old guy and Jane cutting off people's arms legs and head to paint the picture its tv-ma and showed it all down to the last detail. So that only furthers my mental issues. Forgot to mention earlier but before we moved I went to a children's mental hospital called kid's peace for a vacation and literally told my mom it was a vacation. So a while later in the same house I went to kids peace again for anger issues thats it. I had a male best friend who lived next door and one day he just left no goodbye not even a moving truck maybe it was just a really good imaginary friend but ill never know if he's reading this his name is nick and I really appreciate everything he helped me with even if he doesn't know he helped. I was told by my mom that he moved to Texas and his step dad held a loaded double barrel shotgun to his head idk if he shot him or not she never actually told me and idk how she wouldve known but his name was Tracy. Nick got me to do the ouiji board I hope im spelling that right at least 3 times 2 of which were in my house and we never said goodbye. My mom became really close with my uncles ex fiance and she also started hitting me in my head however she didn't sit on me but open or close hand it didn't matter. My sister started dating a guy and we went to his house for dinner one night just me and her and this dude had a pet alligator in PA but he had a pet pit bull and while we were there I was petting the dog behind its ear and for no reason it bit my calf I have the scar for proof and it was bad enough that some leg tissue was hanging out looked like how sperm is depicted btw and as I was crying and about to leave I looked back and her bf at the time was full on punching the dog in its throat and later it got put down and to this day I hate his family for the way they treated that dog I never blamed the dog but now I'm very cautious around dogs but I own 2 lol. My mom when I got home told me to get in the shower which originally was a bath but my grandma said a bath would just circulate the bacteria from the wound and I got out maybe 7 minutes later for an idea of how much I was bleeding the er staff took me in right after they saw me instead of making me wait an hour or so my shoe was soaked and leaving bloody foot prints so they said if I wouldve been 10 minutes later I wouldve bled out. I cracked my head open on some metal stairs in a park in catasaqua pa and got heavy into eminem. I had my first gf in that house and as you can imagine I treated her like shit not abusive but I would hang up on her 3 times and never called her she called me basically doing what those all guys are the same guys do nowadays. Two of my relatives died in that house ages too and I also didn't get to say goodbye then. I started sleeping in school and failed 2 grades nkt because I'm slow or anything just felt like failing. My mom told me my uncle had used my sisters feet to sexually stimulate himself now I was no older than 12 at most and already was hearing that. My sister and mom were preaching how I was going to end up like my dad and that my sister was doing things she hasn't done since they loved with my dad like sleeping in sneakers. There was one night where for whatever reason my sister was sleeping on my bedroom floor and I was curios about the female body so I tried touching different areas but never actually poked in one as she had on jean short shorts and well was fully clothed and im not proud of that and its the one and only time it happened. I'm not justifying that as it is very sick and disturbing but I really didn't know any better like I do now. My dad visited me and took me to Walmart alone and bought me a game boy advanced SP and after he paid for it in front of the worker and all says "damn Robert you used all of my $1s" he had other bills just didn't use them like that was your decision idiot. So my neighbor and I one night we were up about 2 am or so and he asked if I was curious and I didn't know what that meant at the time but to save time we ended up touching eachothers meat if you will and it wasn't long because I truly didn't like it not that im a homophobe or anything I just dont like the way it looks/smells or really anything about it so after that we lay on our backs and basically just finish ourselves off and rate how we liked it and I gave a similar answer to him because I didnt want to hurt his feelings or make him uncomfortable. There was also a kid I hung out with and to make a long story short he also gave me oral pleasure for about 2 minutes as I was no where near hard nor was it even remotely appropriate it was under a bridge basically and he told me if he didn't that homeless people were going to kill us and I was dumb enough to believe him so I told him I didn't like what he was doing and to pull his pants down and as soon as mine were up and his were down I ran I never touched his tiny pee pee he went to high school and told everyone I did but he was making conversations with me like if I kept my attitude but went trans for a day he would date me and so on I was really uncomfortable around him. I only wet the bed once at his house and it also happened to be the only time he slept in the same room as me. Now fast forward to my next apartment and it was in basically the projects if you will and when I was moving in I met another real wonderful man who is Dominican and another who is Puerto Rican and they helped me move inalong with a few others. I had my 2nd and last as for now gf there and I dont know if this was abusive or not but I smacked her but 2 or 3 times and we'd only been dating for like a week maybe less she never said stop or anything so I really am not sure. My mom started smoking weed pretty heavily like you could smell it outside of our door heavy. My brother was 8 and around 250 or so extremely obese and honest rn he's more than likely dead and that breaks my heart in ways I can't even understand I wasn't the best big bro to him but I loved him with all my heart. I had my 2nd hit of weed behind some old houses there. I got into basketball there and played football with my friends. I started stealing just because I was asked for certain items by people and never actually made money off of it which sucks. And I started watching adult videos. I started going to the principal more and more and whenever she gave me oss I said my mom was going to hit me and all she could say was "do you want a cop to go home with you" so naturally I said no as my mom wouldve waited until the cop left and I'd get it worse which in hindsight probably made me look like I just wanted to get out of trouble. I drew a swastika and showed it to a Jewish woman of color because she was annoying me and I dont know if I said anything but my mom tells me I did. But nothing out of the ordinary happened until halfway through 7th grade btw the abuse and me acting up was still going on just nothing that out of the ordinary or memorable and I decided I had enough of my life and took three 9 inch steak knives to school to get caught with them which I did but I needed a story to cover the real intent. So I went to the office 12 times to complain about a bully when in reality the kid was talking about my mom which I did anyway I didn't care but needed a fall guy if you will. So the last day I was sitting in English class and I loved the teacher as he was such a nice and really genuine good teacher and person and I was talking during silent reading (this was day 2 of having the knives btw) and got walked to the principals office by him on purpose because I knew what was coming and I was ready. So we got there and I said goodbye to him when he left and the woman have me iss for the day but when we got there I was asked if I had a pencil I carried all of my books so my backpack was huge at the time and I said no ao she said there's no way and searched my bookbag and found the 3 knives and expelled me now what really set that in motion was that 1 I didn't have a pencil on purpose and 2 the day before I showed 2 kids in particular the knives as I knew they would "snitch" so she already knew I had them at least the one day so I had to force myself to cry so my mom would think it was genuine and I was booked in the local jail data system and knew my mom was going to give me up. The only regret I have is that I met a girl you could say I really loved and still do I still think she's the hottest woman I've ever met that never went away and after my mom gave me up and I was in the system I friended a lot of asses I hated just so I could see if she had a fb profile in hopes of one day getting a chance to show her how much I've grown and try and maybe date her with no such luck until later her name is Sabrina Galloway if she's reading this. So my worst punishment came right after I left the jail booking place (I wasn't in jail just had the mugshot and so on) when we got home my mom beat my like she never had before and told me I was on "mommy jail" basically I was in my 90 degree room on a colder spring/summer day for reference and wasn't allowed to leave except for school then back in. I was fed 1 or 2 peanut butter sandwiches no jelly and got to drink my bathrooms faucet water which had toothpaste stains on it I had an ac in the room but was told if I plugged it in my mom would cut the cord and beat me with it so I didn't risk it. So after 2 or 3 months of this my mom woke me up in the dead of night to take me to NY and didn't understand why I was pissed so that same night she took me to the er and I was committed which I signed myself in and stayed there for maybe 2 or 3 days that was it. Then I got to go to kids peace again and stayed for my usual week and left to a homeless shelter where I met a guy because I had wet my bed and asked for underwear and tbh he was way more understanding than I wouldve ever thought in fact most people were. Then I went from the shelter to a kids peace group home holding facility where I stayed for a month or so and after that I went to NHS or northwestern human services where I finally started to open my mind I met a lot of different people from schizophrenic to gangbangers and I didnt judge a single one of them I was told multiple stories and became really close to a former blood who is going to remain nameless for his safety then from there I went to foster care where I had one hell of an experience so first off my case worker lisa was a fuckin bitch she would constantly talk about how I smelled like piss and berate me for wetting the bed as a teenager and my foster mom who was black not African though so African American is kinda disrespectful towards her and she wanted me to be happy and told me to sign up for any after school activities that would make me happy and so I volunteered at the community center around the corner which had a basketball team that I was just able to be a part of at 16 so naturally I asked her for permission she said yes with a huge smile on her face and then I went to one practice and my foster dad wouldn't take me again but what he and the state didn't know is I walked way further than the school we practiced at and he wouldn't take me out of laziness not anything with the state. So on Christmas my 1st and only year in foster care my mom calls so I was happy you know maybe she changed and it was pretty normal you know until bam right after I told her how I was she goes "merry Christmas your dad fu*ked a dog" and I hung up my foster dad and mom were listening on the other 2 phones state mandated that at least 1 has to listen in just to make sure I guess and my foster mom just stared at me she couldn't believe what she just heard my foster dad took about 3 to 5 minutes to actually say thats so messed up you never tell anyone that doesn't matter their age and btw I looked up both my dads aliases and no beastiality so he didn't do it as far as im concerned but you have to think they've heard everything but no my mom had to one up everyone and I know Lisa heard about it too but even after she was still just an awful human and I hope she gets what she deserves I hated her for everything she did she refused to let me walk to basketball practice and back even though I posed no risk I never ran away and had no school problems either. But anyway eventually my granddad and step grandma were asked if they wanted me and they said sure. They have my younger bro and have been giving him meds he doesn't need so now he's just a ticking time bomb and if my granddad dies first he's going to kill my step grandma but if its the other way he might hold off but unsure. Anyway I was there for a Christmas stay basically seeing if I liked it or not and he started flipping tf out hitting himself in the head and walking behind my step gm who im going to say sgm from now on like he was going to hit her so I had my fist balled up really tight like finger nail indents in my hand tight because I wasn't going to just let that happen but he never did and I went back to foster care 4 days later then I decided I would live with them and moved there. While there I was put on meds I didn't need and luckily for me I met an amazing person but more on that later. The major events was my bro wanted so badly to be a gangbanger even though he was a wussie and a snitch for my grand parents anything I said or did outside of the house was relayed back to them. He hit me with a knife ok my pinky knuckle and dead serous as I was bleeding to "stop over reacting it isn't that bad" now I have a scar because of it and all I did was pour rubbing alcohol on it and a bandaid over it thats it. He also knew where to hit a person to anger them real quick there was a special spot on the back of a person's head that deals with their emotions and once hit instantly makes you really mad. I graduated high-school and had my grades go from fs and 1 d to bs and 1 c because my grand parents thought I couldn't live without my phone then 4 months of not having it they caved and said do you ever want your phone back and I said I take my bets so seriously that ill fail a whole grade if you want to take it that far needless to say they changed their bet quickly. Now their form of abuse is different where they would purposely make me mad and slowly take away my outlets until walking out and slamming the door was all that was left. Basically they could get a check off of me if I was on the right meds and they really made sure I was. Before any of my appointments with my psychiatric dr they would go in for about 10 minutes and the dude wouldn't hear what I had to say so I assume they were giving him a slice of the pie to put my bro and I on the meds. So the only real major even was our "family therapy" session with Jackie who was a good therapist when in a room where all 4 of us and Jackie could barely fit my grandparents and bro started yelling so loud the waiting room could hear and I just sat their blank faced staring at all of them like they were stupid and my gd is threatening to kick me out basically making me homeless and my sgm is saying "what's wrong with you Robert if I was in your position I would be screaming my freaking head off what's happening" and Jackie got my gd to not kick me out but not before I chimed in so calmly you wouldn't believe and I said well if im screaming at all of you with how loud you were 1 Jackie would have a worse headache than she does now 2 it wouldn't help anything and 3 your not the first people to fo this so I can pretty much adapt to any situation. Jackie looked at me like I had just made a revelation and my GPS looked defeted my bro looked at me like I was going to be killed that night. So about 2 years of me living with those monkeys and my neighbor Rita passed and her family came to stay in her house while the will was being addressed and luckily for me the light at the end of the tunnel they were short on space so my current roommate who I consider my family had to stay in our guest bedroom and as he and I talked he realized what was actually happening in that house and asked if I wanted to live with him mind you ive never talked or even seen this guy before so I said yeah why not lol my attitude in three words but anyway I had been working at publix and had a savings of around $3k which is gone now and we both used that money to get on our feet again he is on disability so he has a monthly check which isn't alot but moving on we stayed in 3 different houses 1 was his gms house 2 and 3 were in a whole different county far far away from my GPS house and work wasn't an issues until we were about to move cross country while we were planning I was working at Walmart in avon park I did sfs (online order shipping or pickup) cap 2 (stocking and throwing trucks) and as a janitor I loved working there however in cap 2 they severely over worked us and we never got any help from our supervisors like we should have ntm I was just thrown in no training or anything then in sfs it was great everyone worked and talked and you could take you two 15s and the hour lunch which I usually declined my 15s as I didnt really need them I told my supervisor to use my br breaks as my 15s not that it took me that long to go but I really liked working. But then came the full time janitor position and thats when everything became $hit so I'm white if you didn't know from the context clues and a male too and worked with primarily female hispanic coworkers with a few exceptions as 1 hislanic male and 1 black female so while I worked there the black female was pregnant seeing this I tried really hard to make her job easier but not so she wasn't working like I could get the 10 pound trash bags if she would replace them with a newer one etc. so she talks to me about how she was a stripper and did all of these different drugs and I really didn't care but was listening so she knew she had some type of friend because she was generally looked down at by the others. One of the female coworkers was cheating with a cap 2 hispanic worker while they both were married to different people. The other female hispanic worker and I didnt really have a issue we basically just didn't work together until one day she tried giving me attitude and I shit that down rq because I gave her some right back. Now onto the hispanic male he was the worst person I've ever met just a shitty human in general so he didn't work good like I had to go and clean behind him and I shit you not every manager+supervisor+worker knew idk how he still had a job. But one day we were talking and a female over 18 passes us and naturally we looked at her butt as she was walking I looked for maybe anywhere from 2 to 6 seconds pretty normal I think all things considered but he stared not blinking until she left his sight and I mean bending his head and all just way out of place and so after a minute I brush it off and say have you seen a bakery worker who im not going to name but she's over 18 now I word it like that because I worked with quite a few minors under 18 and the dude is 28 almost 30 and lives in his moms basement and has the real pedophile look like bald head grand pa huge frame glasses and fat and so he responds to my question with "I've seen everybody's" so now I'm really uncomfortable working with him but I push through it. So maybe less than a month later im taking a rare 15 and went over somewhere between 30-45 minutes and when I say rare I took the entire 9 months I worked at that Walmart all of 10 and worked no less than 20 hours a week on pt so really that number should've been in the hundreds ntm I shortened my own lunch break and worked through 1 just to help my coworkers and not screw over the supervisors and he went up to a css which is basically 1/2 a level higher than me like they can write me up but thats it an this is the 1st job I've been written up at and tells the mean hispanic hoe that as soon as she got a little power started letting it go to her head and tells her ive been on a 15 for an hour or longer which isn't true ntm that he told her I took them frequently when you can ask my sfs and ogp superiors and coworkers they'll tell you the exact same thing. So now I'm fuming with this waste of human life and the same hoe is now getting her fellow hispanic people up there to target me which had been going on before that but got worse after and the only real reason I can think of is because I'm white thats it now the major thing that happened that had nothing to do with them as far as I know was I had to bury a dead cat that was pushed with gas missing its eyes and smelled awful in a ditch if anyone shops there and wants to find it dm me and ill let you know the exact location. Now thats the only employer that I've been written up with, pushed out for racial reasons while they never called me a cracker or something like that they spoke in Spanish around me and only Spanish so its not hard to deduce, and I threw up twice and had a bloody nose before I asked to go home on 2 occasions where as the other ones went hom at the mere feel of a belly ache I had a cap 2 worker get injured and was forced into maintenance and 2 or 3 weeks later during carona he got sick with something other than corona idk what but has waited and still might be waiting for just the stores ok he has been passed by everything else to come back and he's the only other white janitor. There was an old white guy that did a little and I mean very little janitor work who had to wait a year after having a stroke I believe and he did more maintenance like fixing and not so much cleaning. Also outside of working there my female friend not gf I was friendzoned by her but anyways her parents are/were getting harassed by the stores "security" who is black and her parents are white now before you say oh he can't be racist or he was just doing his job ive watched people steal and get away with it in fact there was a black guy I watched steal and walk up to the security guard and give him a high five talk for 10ish minutes and then leave and it was noticeable what he stole and the girls parents are 50 minimum and even had this dude outside of his job almost crash into them pull over with them then pull up beside them say something and take off literally trying to push it with them and her parents carry a gun they have licenses for. And as for the emotional abuse idk if this really is or not but while Irving with my mom I said I love you and was told it so much it has no meaning to me anymore but now my life is better thanks to my roommate and now when I talk to girls which doesn't happen often because its been such a long time and everything is sexual harassment now I try to be as honest and idc if it hurts my chances of getting a gf either and upfront so she knows what she's getting into I havent had a gf since the 7th grade and depending on your views of virginity im either a virgin to some or not to others either way sex with most guys my age is all they think about but not me and I also don't really know how I would treat and act around a woman especially one im attracted to so I have tried to get a few but no such luck. Anyways the only other thing I'm going to say is that for those that don't have parents or family that want/love them I know the holidays suck more than anything but your not alone let's get through this hell on earth together.
submitted by kyr1eirving11 to abusesurvivors [link] [comments]

2020.11.27 03:33 Jackson_Arthur Walking moms naked around

I could not see through the closed door, but I recognized the voices of my parents, they were reaching out to me through time and memory. That horrifying night was beginning to tear through the blockage in my mind that had been built up over the years. I had been there that night, standing right outside of the door, standing right where I was currently standing.
I had been a little boy about to lose everything.
But why?
I could hear the anger, my memory replaying the moment, and I could feel the flames that were filling the closed room. It wasn’t the beginning of an argument. The argument had been raging for some time and was nearing its peak. The pressure was building and building, the momentum growing, and there was nothing I could do to stop it, because it had already happened. And once the pressure finally reached its breaking point, my life would be changed forever.
The blockage didn’t completely break up, though, and the voices were muffled. What had they been fighting about? I couldn’t remember. I needed to remember. Desperately, I tried to listen closely to the voice, decipher words, any words, so that I may remember what was said that night.
But it remained noise.
Just noise.
I thought about breaking through the closed door. But I didn’t. Because I didn’t that night. I never went into that room that night or any night since.
The emotions in the room drastically shifted, like I knew they would. I remember when the shift happened. The fiery anger became cold fear, at least for my mother. My father was still aflame, but my mother’s voice became pleading and afraid. She was scared. And she should have been.
For a fleeting moment, both voices fell away and there was only silence. I remember how that silence felt. It was worse than the noise and yelling. That silence said more than anything else. Sometimes silence can do that, speak louder than screaming.
When the silence finally broke, it was my mother pleading for her life. I didn’t have to recall the words to understand what was happening. Her voice had been shrill but hopeless. She was begging. Yet, she knew that her pleas would get her nowhere.
Boom! Boom!
The blasts of the shotgun rattled me, even though I knew they were coming.
Two for her.
One for himself.
Like the young boy I had been, my knees gave out and I stumbled back against the nearest wall. I fell to a sitting position and began to hug my knees. I didn’t cry. Either time. I simply hid my face and wished it had all been a dream.
I don’t know how long I sat there, either time, before finally getting back to my feet. I considered going into the bedroom. Would there still be blood on the walls or the floor? Had it been cleaned or merely sealed up like a tomb?
I didn’t go in, though.
Neither time.
Instead, I recovered my pack and found my old bedroom. Dr. Pemberton had been right. Coming back to my house had reawakened slumbering memories. And somewhere within the memories would be the source of my night terror. Dr. Pemberton had only wanted me to visit my old home, though, but I had other plans.
I was going to spend the night.
There was no point in starting a fire before settling in, because the night was warm enough to suit my needs. The fireplace’s flue was probably rusted shut or something, anyway. Besides. I was not worried too much about comfort. If being comfortable was a priority, I wouldn’t be anywhere within 100 hundred miles of this cabin of nightmares.
After entering my old bedroom, I doused my overly bright flashlight and pulled my electric lantern from my pack. I placed it on the floor and switched it on. The light of the lantern was dimmer than the flashlight, but it would work better for sleeping. I could use no light at all, but I wasn’t going to sleep in total darkness. I just wasn’t.
My old bedroom was just as empty as the rest of the house. The basketball posters that I had mentioned to Dr. Pemberton were long gone, most likely having been thrown away. As was my old bed, along with any other furniture I might have owned back then. It had been gutted of everything but four walls, a floor, and a ceiling. It was like I had never been here, at all. Like this room has always been empty and will remain empty forever.
It didn’t matter.
I didn’t need a bed.
I picked a random spot in the middle of the floor to roll out my blue sleeping mat. Once the mat was out and flat, I removed my sleeping bag from my pack, as well. I made a quick bed that would do fine for the night.
I considered eating something from the various snacks that I had brought, but decided against it. Rather than put food in my stomach, I tossed back one of the sleeping pills that Dr. Pemberton had prescribed to me. I used a quick drink from a bottle of water to wash it fully down.
It wouldn’t be long.
Without changing my soiled clothes, I slid into my sleeping bag and closed my eyes.
It wouldn’t be long.
I don’t remember falling asleep, but the next thing that I knew I was being jolted awake. No. Not awake. When I felt the bed beneath me, I knew that I was waking into a dream. No. Not a dream. Into my nightmare. The realization of the dream faded at the sound of movement, and the dream fully took me.
I was not alone in the dark room.
The overwhelming smell of rotting flesh and sweat gagged me, but I fought the urge to puke. Frightened by the rancid odor, the stench of something dead, I tried to hide my eight-year-old body beneath a multi-colored comforter. There was something foul in my room and it wasn’t my parents. I could still hear it moving. Closer. And closer. I could even hear it breathing. But if I hid out of sight, whatever was there would eventually go away.
But I knew better.
I peeked. Just a little. But enough to see the monster standing over me. All I could see was its head, at first. Large, black eyes. Bald head, except for a few puffs or strands across its scalp. Its face was gaunt and covered in a sickly gray skin. It saw me peeking and it smiled. Its grin was filled with brown, jagged teeth. On its breath was the worst stink I had ever encountered.
Once again, I swallowed the urge to vomit.
My heart pounding and my breath locked in my lungs, I attempted to pull the comforter back over my face, but the monster reached out and grabbed it before I could. I struggled but it was much stronger than me. I fought and fought, but the monster managed to pull my comforter from me and from the bed entirely.
I kicked and struck out when it tried to get its long fingers on me. I tried my best to hit whatever parts of its thin, naked form I could. However, my short arms and short legs did little to fend off such a monster. It appeared skinny, but its long arms were just too strong. When I eventually found myself in its clutches, I remembered that I had a voice.
“Mom! Dad!” I would have yelled, if I had only remembered my voice a moment before. By the time I tried to call out, the monster was stuffing my mouth with one of my dirty socks that had been lying around the room.
There was no spitting it out.
It had been lodged in much too far.
I was on the verge of choking when the monster plucked me from my bed. I continued kicking and punching, but still to no avail. I was helpless. As if I were nothing but a lifeless doll, it bound my hands and feet with rope that appeared from nowhere. And then it stuffed me into the large feed sack that had been lying at its feet before slinging me over its shoulder. It then began to carry me away. I couldn’t see clearly through the sack, so I didn’t know exactly in which direction it was taking me, or how it was able to travel through my house without waking my parents, but I knew what the destination would be.
The cellar out back.
After hearing the rusty hinges of the cellar door groan as they moved, I was bombarded with the earthy smells emanating from the hole in the hill. I never liked the smell of that cellar. It was always overbearing to my nose, a strong, damp mixture of ripe potatoes, dirt, dust, and possibly mildew hidden in the crack and crevices of the wood.
I often imagined that it was how being buried alive smelled.
The creature took me all the way to the back of the cellar before dumping me onto the flimsy wooden floor. I fell with a hard thud and immediately tried to scurry as far away from the beast as I could, but I was already up against the rear wall. Frantically, my eyes darted from one side of the cellar to the other. The walls were lined with wooden shelves and produce. The walking space was a narrow path between the shelves. Even if my feet were free, there would be no getting around the creature, who stood smack dab in the middle of the room.
I had nowhere to go.
I put my back against the thin boards of the wall and glared up at the monster. I was bound and gagged and helpless to its whims.
I could see the drool at the corner of its mouth. I could see the hunger blazing in its eyes. And I was overcome with a sense of deja vu. I couldn’t shake the feeling that everything has happened before. And that it will all happen again...and again.
A cycle.
I watched the creature grin as it came for me. Brown teeth and foul breath. It couldn’t wait another minute. Out of instinct, I squirmed and tried to fight back, but I knew it would sink its claws into me either way. And when it clutched both of my upper arms to lift me from the floor, its claws punctured deep into my flesh and I cried out in pain. But my cries of pain only spread the monster’s grin wider.
Faster than I thought the creature was capable, its face lunged toward mine and it sank its filthy teeth into the soft meat of my left cheek. It bit down hard, pushing its teeth all the way through into my own mouth. A dam was broken and blood began to rush into my mouth, across my tongue and down my throat, causing me to choke and gag. Once its jaws were clenched tight, it tore the skin from my face.
I howled, spraying blood and bits of flesh.
The agony ripping through my face blurred my vision, but I could still see clearly enough to watch the creature chew.
It loved the taste of me.
While the monster was lost in the ecstasy of my flavor, I lifted my bound legs and planted my feet against its chest. I pushed with all my strength. Slick blood had spilled down my left shoulder and upper arm, weakening the monster’s grip there. When I pushed, it couldn’t keep holding on and I was able to fall free.
I tumbled with another hard thud but was somehow able to get to my feet. I glared at the monster once more and knew that if I didn’t do something it would eat the rest of me, too.
A cycle.
Repeating over and over.
Something was different that time.
I was fighting back.
I stood up straight, my shoulders high, and I howled at the monster who was eating me. I howled from my frightened gut and then spat a wad of blood at it.
“No more!” I screamed. “You will not eat me anymore!”
The monster’s eyes shot open wide and the joy on its face fell away. It also knew that the cycle had changed.
“You can’t do this anymore!” I yelled. “Dad!”
The monster began to spasm, its sickly skin trembled and quivering as its shape changed. Its claws retracted. Its teeth straightened. Its eyes went from black to green. It was still tall and lanky, but no longer was there a ravenous monster standing in front of me, but my own father.
And he looked defeated. I had taken away his power.
Suddenly, my eight-year-old body transformed, as well, into the man that I currently was. Grown. Strong. Ready to face the truth of my dreams. Ready to sleep soundly once more.
“You are done doing this to me,” I told him, right before my dream began to dissolve.
I woke with a start and a gasp, climbing back to consciousness in the same place I had fallen from it. My old bedroom. Through a nearby window, I could see that the sun was beginning to rise. Somehow, the nightmare had lasted all night. I kicked away my sleeping bag and lunged to my feet. I rushed from the room and returned, as I had stood the night before, in front of my parent’s bedroom door.
Memories assaulted my mind and I started hearing their voices again, traveling to me from a time before. However, instead of muffled emotions and noise, I could finally hear them clearly and the truth I had finally faced became as concrete as flesh and blood.
“You’re a monster!” my mom shouted, heartbreak filling her throat. “How could you do this to our son? Our boy?”
“Don’t look at me like that!” my dad replied. “I am not that! I am not! Don’t you dare call me that!”
“How many times? How many? How many times did you take my child to the cellar? I’m a monster too! I should have stopped it! I should have known! I should have stopped you!”
“Stop talking to me like that! I will stop! I promise! You can’t tell anyone! You can’t!”
“Liar! You will never stop! You can’t! I will never let you near my son, again! Get out of my way!”
“Where are you going!”
“I’m taking Darryl far away from you!”
“You are not taking my son anywhere! You hear me! You will not take him from me! Get away from the door!”
“Don’t touch me! Let me go!”
“I won’t let you do this!”
“Put that down!” her voice got quieter. “Please. We can talk about this. Let me leave and we can talk about this. I promise.”
“I am not a monster.”
Boom! Boom!
It had taken two shotgun blasts to kill my mother and a single blow to the head to end my father. I stood there for a few more seconds as the gunfire echoed in my brain. Then, as it eventually faded, I left that cabin, without grabbing a thing from it. Not my pack. Not my lantern. Nothing. I wanted nothing from it.
Tucked away in the trunk of my car, I always kept a bottle of lighter fluid and a pack of matches, just in case the firewood was too wet or being stubborn or I simply didn’t want to spend hours getting a campfire going.
It didn’t take much. The cabin was more than willing to burn. And so was the cellar. And as I drove away from the blaze, I felt lighter, freed from a hefty burden I hadn’t fully realized, one that had haunted me for years.
I was free.
Free from my past.
And free from the monsters.
submitted by Jackson_Arthur to Horror_stories [link] [comments]

2020.11.27 02:31 Important_Feed9098 Moms walking around naked

The problem I’m having is with my (26f) best friend (26f) we can call her T. She and I have been friends for over 13 years since we were kids. Things were fine in my eyes until college. I met the man (26m) I’m now engaged to in college and she started exhibiting odd behavior ever since.
The first thing was T shaking her breasts in his face at her award dinner in front of her parents and staring me dead in the face. I confronted her about it and she told me she thinks it’s fun to make her friends jealous and she does it to all of her. I told her I was not ok with that at all and she knows me better than that. After that things were quiet. She later asked if my fiancé would escort her into another event. I wasn’t really ok with it but I asked him anyway to be nice and he agreed to it. And things seemed normal but in hindsight I wish I said told her no off the bat because he said yes as a favor to me.
She got very sick a few months after this. We were scared we would lose her but she survived. The illness caused T to have epilepsy. A year later she asked to stay at my fiancé and my apartment because she wanted to go to an event at the college we all went to. I asked my fiancé and he said yes he was okay with me having her over so she came and it seemed fine but I caught her changing in the hallway. I spazzed a little and asked her why she was in the hall half naked when he and his twin brother could come around the corner any second. She told me she didn’t care.
I told T to go into the bathroom and finish changing and she did. T later came into our room after me and asked to see our sex toys. Before I moved in with my fiancé she gave me a sex toy she used to use with her ex and asked me to get rid of it for her because she had been holding on to it and needed to let go. I thought it was weird but I threw it away for her. After asking about our toys (which I told her I was absolutely not showing and or discussing with her) she asked where the toy she gave me was and if we used it. I reminded T that she asked me to toss it so I did and told her her question about if we used it was gross. T was disappointed.
Months later after this stay T asked if my fiancé would accompany her to an award ceremony for a club she joined in uni (we went to the same uni) to give her support because she allegedly couldn’t stand for long periods of time and to catch her in case she randomly fell. T then made it clear that I wasn’t invited and said I didn’t need to worry she would thank him by taking him out to dinner.
I pushed back and asked why she didn’t ask one of the several club members she knew very well to help her. T said she didn’t trust any of them like she trusted them but that made no sense because she and my fiancé don’t know each other well and don’t have a relationship. I told her this and she said she trusts him because he loves me and would make sure nothing happened to her because he loves me.
I talked to my fiancé about it even though I was going to tell her no because I didn’t want to lie and he said yes but we talked more and I asked if he was sure and told him if he was ever not okay with something he should tell me then the truth came out and he said he has not been ok with doing stuff for her and felt uncomfortable. He was doing it to make me happy and I told him not to ever do something that makes him uncomfortable because he thinks it’ll make me happy. He felt better after our talk. I told T that we needed to talk.
I told T my fiancé was not okay at all with it and she needed to ask one of her club mates. I also told her she would absolutely under no circumstance ever take my fiancé out to dinner without me or in general. T is gay and said she didn’t think anything of it because of that. I told her it wasn’t cool regardless and was overstepping especially when I clearly was not invited and she told me she didn’t want me to be bored so she didn’t invite me.
In the end my fiancé did not participate and the entire ceremony T was standing, walking around, jumping, and dancing even though she was telling me she couldn’t do those things (except walking) because of her muscle seizures.
We still allowed T to stay the night that evening. When we got back to the house she was being really clingy (I don’t like being held for long periods of time or horse playing). She grabbed me and wrestled me to the floor calling me best friend over and over and would not let me go no matter how much I asked. I literally had to peel her off me and ask her to take it easy. I want to say this for context; when we agreed to let her stay we told her she had to leave around 10 am because we had plans with my fiancé’s mom. She agreed and told us she setup a ride already. The morning came and we were all in the living room. She was not packing or anything so around 10 I asked if her ride was on the way. T texted her ride and she told us yes.
11 am came and her ride wasn’t there so we asked what was happening and she said she didn’t know and called her club mate who was supposed to take her home. They told her they went to a party in the city and would get them in an hour. We said ok and reminded her we had plans that afternoon. An hour and a half passed and her friend still wasn’t there so I asked what was going on and she called her got mad. I was like wth and T said her friend didn’t want to leave the party yet but would come get her that night. We said no that wouldn’t work and I called her an Uber and paid $100 for her to go home.
The climax of all this was an event at our school. I offered to drive her to the hotel she and her club mates were staying at ( I told her my fiancé wasn’t okay with her staying at the apartment). I told her I needed to grab her right after work and to be ready to go because traffic is god awful where we lived and I had to do A TON of driving while exhausted. on the way to Ts house my fiancé told me she made him get her marriage blessing before she talked to him about engagement ring stuff.
I told him what I told her, that I did not want her to do that and that my father was the only one he needed to talk to. She did this behind my back and I was very upset. When I got to her house from my job she wasn’t ready. I waited for 10 minutes and we left, I confronted her about what happened with my fiancé and T denied it vehemently. I pressed for a while and she kept denying it and I finally told her he told me what happened and that I was not happy. She was upset he told me and I reminded her of what I said and that it wasn’t cool to do that against and behind my back. She apologized and we moved on from it.
That night she went to a party. At midnight she sent her location map to my fiancé in case he needed to pick her up. He told me and I told T not to text him late at night like that and if she needed help I would be the one to pick her up not him. She said she texted us both in case I was asleep and I asked why she did it separately and why she didn’t send me her location. She just repeated herself rolled her eyes and Apologized saying she wouldn’t do it again.
The next day i slept in and got up late which led to me arriving late to the event. I got to our university and started meeting up with all my old friends, I texted her to see where she was to go hang for a little while before finding my fiancé. I found her and she started telling me about how she yelled at my ex bf when she saw him earlier and I was like dude relax let’s have fun today don’t do stuff like that. She didn’t care. So we talked and walked over to some friends and chatted for a bit. My fiancé texted me and asked me to come over to where he was ( he was drunk as hell) so I gave everyone a hug and went to find him. He and I were together the rest of the day walking around and talking to everyone. The day went well but the next day T told me she was mad at me because I didn’t hang out with her enough at homecoming.
I was over it and the next time I saw my mom I spoke to her about it and she told me I needed to set firm boundaries so I did.
T picks and chooses which ones she respects until I remind her then she gives me pushback about my boundaries or tries to make me feel guilty about them. One of them is touch. I don’t like being held or hugged for extended periods of time unless it’s an extreme situation (e.g. like I’m in danger or extremely upset and want to be held). After I laid out all my boundaries we met up a couple days later and she clung on to me, I had to pry her off and remind her about what I said about that making me uncomfortable. She was upset, and we sat down to chat over our coffee and she pretended to cry. I looked at her silently and she stopped after I didn’t say anything.
After wiping her single tear T started asking about everyone she knew was a part of my fiancé’s family (even the dog) I reminded her that I wanted to keep my relationship private and wasn’t comfortable with her asking especially after everything that’s happened (T and I spoke about everything that made my fiancé and I uncomfortable during our talk about boundaries. She said she didn’t remember half of it but apologized and said she didn’t mean any of it). She went down the his family line asking if she could talk to me about them and I said no. I was getting upset because it was like if she couldn’t know about him she had to know about everything else in his life.
I moved out of his apartment because I got a job further away near Ts township and she knew I was not living in the same city with him. I would visit him often after I moved. Since the day T and I met for coffee she started randomly asking if I was in his city or not. She would find news articles about bad things happening in his city and send them to me saying things like “This is for anyone who lives in [fiancé’s city]” I didn’t respond to these messages but they made me uncomfortable.
There’s more (even stuff the day before my birthday) but I’ve given you a lot please help me. One more thing I’ve asked her to be in my wedding party but she seemed upset about the people she doesn’t know being in the party.
I feel very uncomfortable and I’m wondering if I’ve made a mistake. Can I fix this situation? Should I give her space?
TL;DR best friend (26f) put her boobs in my fiancé’s face, changed in the hallway of his apartment, doesn’t respect boundaries, and has been very inappropriate. Even still I asked her to be a bridesmaid but after recent events I’m worried I’ve made a mistake.
submitted by Important_Feed9098 to relationships [link] [comments]

2020.11.26 20:51 f4c3m3l73r My noisy neighbors wont shut the hell up

I have to be up at the ass crack of dawn 5 days out of the week and my neighbors are loud as fuck at stupid hours of the night.
I'm writing this because it's actually quite a peculiar thing. Mainly because they have been bringing in rather big coolers and mini fridges seemingly every night at 1 to 3 in the morning for the past several weeks. What the fuck, right? The other reason that this is a peculiar thing is because they're all large people. So, if I, a 27 year old that is 150 pounds soaken wet, were to go up to these massive people and tell them to shut the fuck up it wouldn't weight out in my favor.
I figure, okay, its near Thanksgiving, just bringing in food. Nope. It's literally the day before and they are doing it right now and its 2:31am.
I've called the cops. They come, they talk and leave. Its happened twice now and it's just a "not another one of these calls" situation to these cops. Well fuck you too then, I guess I'll just sleep for 3 hours a night and work 10 hours shifts just so I can come home, agonize in my depressive fatigue and attempt escaping reality with a book or a video game and smoke weed until these assholes start bringing shit into their house at 1 am.
Sleep is futile. I'm not going to just go to bed as soon as I get home just to get woken up at 1 am and get up at 5 when they are done at 3.
I tried that one time, going to bed as soon as I got off, and I wish that I hadn't.
So, as you would guess, I was woken up at about midnight to talking, shuffling, noises that annoyed me and I shot up out of bed and decided to let my anger take over a bit. I turned my TV to full blast and put on Yu Yu Hakusho and blared some 90s Hip Hop. Fuck them. I thought. What right do they have to make me suffer like this?
I turned the volume bar down after a little while and I began to notice that the noises from outside seemed to be gone.
I turned the volume down on both my TV and stereo a little more and I looked outside. Those people were gone.
A knock came to my door.
I live alone, and I don't really have many friends aside from my playstation friends and facebook people. It was past midnight and I had no guests coming by.
It had to be them.
I had no choice but to open my door. If I didn't I felt like they would not be happy about that. I opened the door and smiled weakly to a very tall and very bulky man.
"Hello. Sorry about the noise." I said. Feeling my legs shake.
He didn't respond. He just stared at me with a cold, empty look. It was here that I slowly became aware of the fact that a many number of people were behind him. Just staring at me. I had no way to stop the trembling in my very being. I was literally shook. These guys could easily rip me to pieces if they wanted to.
I think the creepiest part was that they didn't even say a single word to me. They just stood on my door step and front lawn motionless.
"Um. Well I.. I'm going to go now." I forced myself to say.
I slowly shut the door as my eyes locked with the guy who I assumed knocked on the door. Before I had the door fully shut a smile formed on his lips. It made me feel kind of tired and definitely scared upon looking at that.
I called my dad to see if he would let me borrow a pistol, but he hung up before I could even let out a nervous chuckle. That guy probably thinks I'm such a failure. I don't have much, but god dammit I work hard for what I have!
Even if it is just a two bedroom one bath house I found on craigslist in a pretty shitty area, at least I did the damn thing.
After that they seemed to slow down, but this time I noticed that other people seemed to show up there around the same time they would pack shit into their house and even in the mornings. It was a two story brick home with a nice front porch and a stone outline for the concrete staircase leading up. It looked like a witch lived there. The people that would come in and out looked like an older crowd. Most looked miserable and I remember walking to my car one day to go to work, a small old lady with her husband were covering their faces as they walked in my direction to get to my neighbors door.
I looked down at the old womans hand and this lady's skin looked like leather. The whole day at work I shivered. Was the face covering necessary?
That week I started drinking. I'm drunk now, but I don't care. It helps me deal with this shit. I can sleep a little more sometimes and I even have nice dreams. However, two days ago I decided to stay up all night and try to get far in Bloodborne. It never worked out that much for me, but the game is always fun.
I heard a shout come from my neighbors.
Again. Then louder. The scream was of pain and suffering. I grabbed my phone and called the cops. I spoke to them and hung up the phone. I looked outside to see if I could catch a glimpse of anything. In that moment of me peeking outside I saw three men in which one was not wearing any clothes or at least looked to not be. They seemed to be fighting. Then in a sudden surprise one man picked the naked man up by the throat and with great force slammed him into the concrete below. His screaming instantly stopped. It looked like his head made contact with ground. They looked down at the man and tilted their heads to my direction.
I fell to the ground and covered my mouth from my whimpers. What the fuck was that shit? HOW? I saw the lights from the cops a moment later. I tried my absolute hardest to NOT be obvious with my peeking and noticed the cops get out.
I didn't see the people at all.
The cops seemed pretty relaxed at first, but then noticed the man on the ground and put their guns up. I then saw both men that injured that man randomly come out from a corner of the house with their hands slightly in the air as if to say "woah hey there its alright" and the cops holstered their fucking guns and talked with them. After a few moments one of the cops pointed at my house as if to let them know I was the one who called.
They left shortly after that.
I spent that whole night praying that they wouldn't come to my door. Nothing happened and eventually I fell asleep.
Yesterday is when it became clear that there was something horrible going on in that house. Call it drunken courage, but I wanted to go in there and see what the fuck is going on. The cops will never know. At least not yet, because when I see a chance, I'm sneaking in. I've noticed that there are a total of 3 people that live there. One is old as dirt, but is always seen driving (I'm pretty sure he works for a trucking company because I rarely see him and he's wearing the usual outfit), then theres the twins. At least they look like twins. I cant tell them apart. Long blonde hair in a pony tail with a blonde goatee. They were all big people. It seemed that trucker guy was gone from wednesdays to fridays all day and night and the twins were gone on wednesdays all day for whatever reason. They would come home late and usually start bringing shit in.
So wednesday was my day.
I used to be a thief, so I have a lock pick kit and that's what I used to get in. The place smelled absolutely horrible. Like a mixture of urine, rotting wood and barf. I almost barfed right there in the front room. I out my shirt up to cover my nose in am attempt to soothe my nausea. It barely helped. I had a flashlight and I turned it on. The place was like a hoarders paradise. I had to walk over countless items to get anywhere. There was a small path, however, led to an area just beyond my sight. I had a window of two and a half hours at this point so I felt confident that I would get to the bottom of this mystery before sundown. Despite the sun still up, the windows in the house were either boarded up or covered with cloth so it was dark in there. I made it to the area where I couldnt see before and noticed a door. I went to go open it and turn the knob. I opened the door. Staring forward, the door creaked open and I saw stairs leading down to a basement.
"Is someone there?" A tired, muffled voice commanded from down in the basement.
Oh my god. I didnt know what to do at first, but I walked down at a sort of fast pace before I could even think of anything to say. I looked around for a light switch, but there was too much junk everywhere. I heard the voice again. Same tone and everything. I walked to the source of the sounds and immediately saw a blood trail that led to an old large chest with a chain and lock around the handle.
The chest began to shake and I almost shit my pants. Someone was in there! "Please let me out of here!" The womans voice begged again. I quickly fumbled my lock pick and quickly disengaged the lock. Before I opened the chest, I noticed an odd engraving in just above the handle. The symbol did not look welcoming at all.
Upon opening it, I was hit with a smell that nearly singed my eyebrows off. It was worse than the smell of the house. I know what rotting meat smells like, but this foul stench was far more excessive than that. I didn't want to, but I looked down at the chests contents. There was a pile of flesh and gore. Two arms and legs were sticking out of the viscera, which was pulsing and was now emitting a deep gurgling noise. I looked in horror as something began to rise to the surface of entrails, blood, bone and hair could be seen. It was long, black and seemingly shined perfectly despite the smeared gore around it. The hands bolted out of the chest and grabbed my shoulders. I was frozen and couldnt even move. Slowly, the faces visage emerged and I was met with the top half of a woman. Her face was pale, yet somehow beautiful in a morbid sense.. She looked young and I wanted to cry, but couldn't. Instead my mouth gaped open and tried to scream. The womans face shifted to one of rage and anger. Her mouth gaped open and I could hear more gurgling. A scream shot out of her and she vomited a mess of red all over my face.
It got in my mouth and I tried desperately to spit and gasped for air. It was no use. The blood invaded my mouth and I could feel chunks of meat and God knows what else. She suddenly stopped and let go of me, slowly creeping back into the chest with a smile. I fell to the ground, got back up and ran the fuck out of that hell hole.
I left the house and didnt bother covering up that I was there. I got in my bathroom and violently emptied my stomach into my toilet bowl. I flushed, brushed my teeth with such vigor that my teeth were brighter than headlights. I stripped down and took a shower for at least an hour. Crying, shaking, violated. This trauma is forever embedded in my memory. I eventually wore myself out from terror, from the shaking to constantly trying to vomit. I locked my doors, turned on some classical music and drifted to sleep.
It's Thanksgiving and I have to go eat with family. I don't want to, but it's mty family. I drove my ccar to my moms and did the family thing. I'm very huingry. Abnormally hungry. Normally my dad eats all the leftovers, but I ate his. I was really oiut of it. Still am. Nothing seems like it was before, it's like I'm living in a hollow body and I'm just mindlessly on autopilot. I started to forget about the whole thing with the woman in the chest. It w as like it never evwn happened.
When I drove home, somehow making it to my driveway, there was a note taped to my front door. I looked it over and it simply read:
She bathes her children with love
I set it on my kitchen countyer.
I had an old girlfriend call me and she said that her family made her upset and she could use a distraction. I told her to come on by. Her voice made me fidget and I wanted her to come over immediately. I was filled with joy.
The doorbell rang and I let her in with a smile. "Wow Josh, have you been sleeping at all?" She said.
"Its a long story, come in." I replied as she walked by me. I could hear her heart beat and it reverberated in my being with ecstacy.
I was very hungry. Even more so than when I was at the kitchen table with my family.
"So, how've you been?" She asked, plopping down on my couch.
"Ive.. I've never been.." I started
"What?" Before she said anything else approached her and sat down next to her. I stared at her and smiled.
"You know, I was going to say.. I didn't just come here to talk."
Her hand was on my leg and I looked at her arm. The veins were bulging slightly and I felt the blood flow like a chocolate fountain. My mouth was watering.
"Wow! You look like your ready to go!" She started taking her clothes off. Perfect. Oh, my.. the flesh was beautiful. I touched her breats and slowly reached up to her neck. My stomach growled.
"I didn't know you were into that."
I stared into her eyes. My ears were ringing with excitement.
It was over in an instant. The flesh oozed between my fingers like jello and her head fell to the ground, rolling to my foot.
I found a strength in me I never knew I had before. There was an aroma of bliss in the air.. it came from her corpse. I wasted no time and dug in. I think my favorite part was the heart. So juicy!
I felt great after that! But, I also realized something. I couldn't finish this feast by myself.. I think I am going to share with mother.
submitted by f4c3m3l73r to u/f4c3m3l73r [link] [comments]

2020.11.26 16:28 chickachickaboombo0m Moms walking around naked

These are all the things my mother said to me growing up that I'm only now recognizing were NOT okay. I'm 31.all of these things along with so many other things that were said and behaviours from my parents fractured me. I now deal with an eating disorder, gender dysphoria, anxiety, depression and anger issues. I hate sex. I am repulsed by it after being obsessed with it for years.
Your father isn't circumcised.
She vented to me about how my father was ashamed of her. That he didn't like the way she looked. That he never took her anywhere. I was 8.
I bled when your father and I did it for the first time (had sex). She said this one to me more than once; one of the times being a few weeks for my wedding. That was the only sex education I'd ever recieved.
Where are you going with those stretch marks all over your legs?
Fried eggs! (Talking about my chest)
Your father isn't really Black. (My father is Black. My mother is also Black.)
He's a nigger (referring to a black man who was also a criminal and a child abuser)
Your youngest sister was an accident.
Black people are so crass, so loud. Black parents don't care about their kids.
I have to give an account to the Lord. (Don't make me look bad).
Hugging me too closely and smudging her boobs into mine.
I vividly remember one say she was changing my sister's diaper and she pinched the outer lips of her vagina together and jiggled it and laughed.
I was only 120lbs when I was pregnant with your sister! I actually lost weight! The doctor told me to eat all the junk food I could get my hands on. (This one she said the most, it helped trigger my eating disorder and made me fixated on being 118 pounds. Of course I never reached that goal).
The same thing your son did to me, and it was great. (This was said after my grandpa jokingly and inappropriately asked my husband what he had done to me when I was 8 months pregnant).
She made my sister and I watch films like Schindler's list and Amistad at very young ages. I cried myself to sleep for a week after watching The Elephant Man at 9 years old.
Did he touch you? (Referring to my Dad's stepdad. I didn't want to visit my grandparents but it's because my grandma was verbally abusive toward me. It's almost like my Mom WANTED me to have been touched by hum so then we'd be even more similar).
She told us about how Christians in other countries were brutally murdered and jailed for their faith and that that would one day happen to her and us too
She made me believe that the year 2000 was the end of the world and that we'd have to be drinking water out of the toilet to survive.
She downplayed my questions about thinking I might be gay by saying that no guys wanted to date her either growing up.
Always talking about how good looking my Dad is.
Made me believe that postpartum depression wasn't real. We were watching Brooke Shields talk about it and my Mom made fun of her for it. I never got help after the birth of my first child because of this.
Sensual is a bad word.
When I thought I'd started my period she made me sit in the toilet and spread my legs as far as they would go so she could "inspect". She had to make sure I was actually bleeding? I begged her not to tell my Dad that I'd started my period (which I hadn't). As I walked back to bed, feeling violated, I heard her tell my Dad I'd started my period.
When I asked to go to an art highschool because I loved to draw, she said no because I'd become gay.
After I'd failed a test she yelled at me that her father had raped her repeatedly for years.
She'd my siblings and I that she should be in a mental institution because of all the things her father made her do and that he did to her.
She was visibly upset at my highschool graduation. She sulked and we didn't stay long for refreshments.
She was visibly upset at my wedding.
She didn't visit long when either if my kids were born.
She hasn't wished me happy birthday for the last few years but has sent my husband cards with money in them.
Ever since I told her about my CPTSD diagnosis she has sent me an e-card. Daily. For six months. I feel terribly guilty when I see them every morning. Sometimes I will open them. Sometimes I'll respond. Sometimes I will delete them. I feel sad doing any of those things.
She would moon my siblings and I (pull her pants down to reveal her butt) often.
She would pinch my bottom often even after I'd say for her to stop.
She'd always comment about how comfortable she and her friends were being naked around each other when it was clear that I wasn't comfortable.
Made me feel guilty for experimenting with makeup, dressing differently than she did.
Made me feel guilty for wanting friends. Never had any real, true lasting friendships.
I'll stop there for now.
submitted by chickachickaboombo0m to CPTSD [link] [comments]

2020.11.26 11:15 sarcosaurus Around walking moms naked

My mom was a weird parent who overstepped my boundaries a lot, and I cut off contact with her when I moved out on my own. In later years, I've been thinking about some things that happened when I was an adolescent and early teen. I'd be grateful for your input on how 'serious' this was, if at all.
My mom took naked pictures of me up until around puberty when I started refusing. It wasn't a special event when she did, she was just very 'relaxed' about whether I was wearing clothes when she took out the camera. I especially remember one time when I was just developing breasts, she took pictures of me in the bath. I thought the bath bomb I'd put in the water was hiding everything under the surface so I was covered. It was only when she had the photos developed that I realized you could see everything, and even though all of my body and face was in-frame, she had framed it so my vagina was pretty central. It felt wrong.
When she had friends over, she insisted I stay up past my bedtime and 'socialize'. This would usually mean just sitting there drinking a coke while she made out with whatever guy - usually a random stranger, sometimes a boyfriend - she was with that evening. She'd get angry if I tried to excuse myself to go to bed, even though they literally were only kissing and groping each other and not talking to me. I'd usually only manage to sneak out once they had moved onto the couch or her bed (which was in our living room for a while) and were on top of each other.
She loved telling the, in her eyes, cute and funny story of how one time her and my then step-dad were having sex, and 4-year-old me walked in and asked what they were doing and if I could join. She especially laughed at how mortified my step-dad was at me seeing them have sex.
One time when I was around 10, I came home from school at the usual time and went into the kitchen to get a snack like I always did. Her bedroom was beyond the kitchen, so when you walked into the kitchen, the first thing you'd see was her bedroom door. That day the door was wide open, and she was having full-on, but completely silent intercourse with some dude I'd never seen before. I turned around, went to my room, and closed the door. About a minute later she stormed into my room (she had put clothes on) and told me she was sorry and they had listened for me and even gotten up a couple of times so I really couldn't blame her (???). I said I'd just like to be alone if she didn't mind. She blew up at me and screamed various things in my face - I don't remember all of it, but the gist was that I was a selfish, horrible, rude brat for not taking an apology and making the situation all about me. It was the biggest scolding she ever gave me. Then she stormed out, and it was never discussed again.
She dated a pub owner when I was around 13-15. She'd do the usual thing of taking me to the pub on Fridays to sit there and watch them make out, only pausing to scold me and tell me to stay if I tried to excuse myself and go home (I took the bus home by myself all the time at that age, and she never had a problem with it otherwise.)
One time, I must have been 15, she insisted I go with them to his flat above the pub. She sat me in front of the TV with a soda, told me to wait there, and went into the bedroom with him. After about 20 minutes, I started wondering what was going on, knocked on the door and opened it, and found them half-dressed on the bed. I told her I was going home now. I only just made it out of the door with her pulling on my arm yelling at me to stay.
All in all, looking back, she never got as angry with me as when I was trying to get away from watching her kiss or have sex with men. She was a pretty laid-back parent otherwise, and she'd rarely force me to socialize if she only had platonic friends over. Some of these incidents felt like traps she set for me and then punished me for walking out of. I just can't match her behavior in those situations to how relaxed she was about other things.
I guess my question is: Where do you think this falls on the spectrum from 'totally normal parent behavior' to 'sexual abuse'?
Tl;dr: My mom made me sit and watch her make out with guys when I was a child/teenager, and I also walked in on her having sex more than once where it seemed easily avoidable on her part.
submitted by sarcosaurus to abuse [link] [comments]

2020.11.26 05:58 Jackson_Arthur Moms walking around naked

I had been daydreaming, existing somewhere between awake and asleep, a realm I had become quite familiar with over the past few weeks. When a female voice called my name, “Darryl Rashad,” I became startled and nearly jerked out of my seat. Luckily, I was the last appointment of the day and there wasn’t anyone else in the waiting room to see my embarrassment.
Aside from Dr. Pemberton, anyway.
I rose from my chair without a word and slowly followed the psychologist into her office, my head down as if I was being marched to the guillotine. In a way, I felt like I had been beheaded a long time ago, but for some reason, my body continued to move forward.
“Have a seat,” Dr. Pemberton instructed, pointing to a large comfortable looking blue chair. It was a similar type of chair that was in my Grammy’s house. It had a high back and was nearly long enough for two people. The cushion you sat on was very thick and very soft, as was the one you leaned back against once sitting.
Exactly like the one my Grammy Eustace had.
I remember being ten-years-old and curling up in my Grammy’s living room chair. I loved that chair. I had some of the best naps in it. I could fall asleep for hours and never move. I wish that I could sleep like that again, like a child without a care in the world. As does our innocence, that type of sleep leaves us whenever we become adults.
The psychologist’s voice broke through from far off. She sat only several feet away, but she could easily have been on the moon. Damn. I had been drifting off for what must have been the hundredth time that day.
“I’m sorry,” I replied. “I keep spacing out.”
“You still look very tired,” Dr. Pemberton said. “Have you been sleeping any better? The sleep aids haven’t been working?”
“They help me fall asleep,” I admitted. “But...when I need to wake up...when...the dream happens...I get stuck sometimes. The dream just repeats over and over and I can’t get out. So, I stopped taking them. I’d rather not sleep at all than get stuck in that nightmare loop.”
Dr. Pemberton nodded.
“I understand,” she said. “The dream hasn’t gotten any better?”
“No!” I spat. “The dream hasn’t gotten any better or any worse! It is still the same exact fucking dream every time, like I told you!” My voice then quieted. “I am sorry. I am...I am sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. I just feel like I am losing my mind. My eyes hurt and feel like sandpaper. I barely have the energy to breathe or chew food. I feel like I am underwater all the time. And everything else in the world...doesn’t feel real. It all seems fake, like an illusion that I am no longer a part of. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”
“Something else happened,” Dr. Pemberton stated. “Hasn’t it?”
“My girlfriend...” I began but then paused.
“How is your girlfriend?” she asked. “Trista? Right?”
“Right,” I replied. “She was staying over at my apartment a couple of nights ago. I was having that dream again and I...must have been thrashing around and I...I must have hit her.”
“Is she okay?” Dr. Pemberton asked.
“A black eye,” I explained.
“You do know that it wasn’t your fault?”
“Yes,” I assured her. “She understands that I didn’t mean to do it, either. But I am not okay with it. Not at all. I want the nightmare to stop. It needs to stop or...I don’t know. It just needs to stop. Maybe I should commit myself. I don’t know what else to do. Why is this happening to me?”
“As I said before,” she explained in her unnervingly calm voice, “night terrors are not all that uncommon, but they happen more often when a person is young. Trust me, you are not going crazy. And night terrors are very treatable. We will fix this, Darryl. I promise. And all this will feel like a bad dream, pun intended. I hope that makes you feel a little better, at least.”
“I wish it did,” I replied.
“Me too,” Dr. Pemberton nodded. “Okay. Now. Let’s talk about the dream, again. I want you to take me through it. From start to finish. What happens?”
“We already did this,” I exhaled. I didn’t want to conjure up the nightmare. I wanted to pretend that it didn’t exist, at least for a little while. I wanted to push it from my mind so that I had a little bit of temporary peace. I knew that the horror would be waiting for me whenever I tried to sleep that night. If I even tried to sleep. I would have to worry about that whenever the time came.
Burn that bridge when I got there, so to speak.
“I believe that there is an underlying cause that we need to figure out,” Dr. Pemberton explained. “Recurring dreams are rarely random. They usually mean something to the person having them. Your brain is trying to give you information but it is jumbled or lost in translation, making it come across as a puzzle, a terrifying one, in your case. If we figure out the puzzle, then maybe we can get the dream to stop.”
“You really think so?”
“I do.”
“It is always the same dream,” I began, as I closed my tired, aching eyes. “I think that I am around eight-years-old and I am asleep in my bed. I wake up when I hear someone moving around in my room. At first, I think that it is my mom or my dad. But then I smell it. Something stinks. Like something dead.”
“Last time you smelled like roadkill?”
“That’s right,” I answered. “My mom or dad don’t smell that way, so I open my eyes and I see the monster standing over my bed, looking down at me.”
“What does the monster look like?”
“In the dream,” I continued, “it is tall and thin. It has really long arms and legs. It's naked but I can’t make out any private parts. Its skin is like a sickly brownish-grey. It has random patches of hair on its head. Its face is a little blurry, for some reason. From what I can make out, it’s face doesn’t seem straight, if that makes sense. Everything is...crooked. And it is holding a large sack, an old-timey feed sack. Pale.”
“Sounds pretty scary.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “When I see the monster, I try to scream, but it covers my mouth with its hand. Its hands are like leather. Long fingers. Long sharp nails. I want to fight, but I can’t move my arms or legs. They are frozen. The monster grabs me from my bed, stuffs me into its sack, and then carries me off.”
“Once you are in the sack, you don’t try to fight or call out?”
“For some reason, I still can’t move,” I replied. “And, I also can’t scream for help. I just...can’t. And the monster always takes me to the same place. The vegetable cellar behind the house that my dad built into the side of the hill.”
“What happens after you are in the cellar?”
I shudder.
“The monster,” I continued, “it dumps me from the sack onto the floor. For nearly a minute, it just stares at me, like it's hungry and I am a juicy steak. I want to run away, but the monster blocks the cellar door.”
I pause.
“And then what happens?”
“I…” I begin but immediately stop. I have a hard time finding the words, but eventually mumble, “The monster...eats me.”
“It eats you? How so?”
“It doesn’t just bite into me,” I explain, “like you see in movies. It...uses its sharp claws and tears my skin away piece by piece. It just...rips me apart and eats the chunks. I can hear it...chewing me. It's wet and sloppy. I am finally able to scream, but no one hears me. I can finally fight but I am not strong enough. I usually wake up when it starts to peel the skin from my face.”
A moment passes in silence before Dr. Pemberton decides to speak.
“In the dream, where are you?”
“At home,” I replied. “The house I grew up in.”
“It’s always the same house?” she asked. “You are always the same age?”
I nodded.
“I lived there with my mom and dad until I was about nine,” I answered.
“How are your memories of living there?” Dr. Pemberton asked.
“I don’t have a lot of them,” I explained. “I can’t even tell you what town we lived in.”
“That is understandable,” Dr. Pemberton assured me. “Trauma at an early age can affect memory.”
“I do remember bits and pieces,”I clarified. “I can still picture my bedroom. I like basketball and I remember I had some basketball posters on my wall. I’m not sure what teams or what players, though. I can’t really remember much about how the house looked. But I remember there were a lot of trees around. No other houses. It wasn’t in town, or anything. It was in the country. In the woods. I don’t remember if I had any friends or what school was like. I don’t remember any of that kind of stuff. I don’t really remember much at all.”
“You remember the cellar out behind the house, though?”
“Vaguely,” I said. “I think I watched my dad dig into the hill when he was building it. I’m not sure. My mom used it to store our potatoes. I think. And she canned vegetables and kept them there, too. I don’t remember it being very big. In the dream, it feels really small. I mainly remember the smell. The inside smelled like stale dirt.”
“Why did you move away from the house?” Dr. Pemberton asked.
“You already know the answer!” I blurted.
I was beginning to get aggravated because she kept asking me questions that I had already answered. I wanted new questions. New answers. New solutions. I didn’t understand how going in circles was going to help me.
“I want to hear you say it again,” Dr. Pemberton insisted.
“I went to live with my Grammy Eustace,” I told her.
“Both my parents died,” I said.
“How did they die?”
“What the fuck are we doing?” I cursed again, but didn’t apologize that time. Instead, I pretended like it never happened. “They are both dead. Doesn’t matter how or why.”
“I think it is obviously connected,” Dr. Pemberton assured me. “But I don’t think that the locked away memories of your parents dying are what you are dreaming. I think that the dream is something else.”
“But what could it be?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” she said. “Have you ever gone back to the house since then?”
“No,” I replied. “I’m not even sure if the house is still there.”
“How old are you, Darryl?” Dr. Pemberton asked, but I had a feeling that she wasn’t expecting a response. She was merely talking through her thoughts. So, I remained silent and listened. “19? You moved when you were nine, which means that you haven’t lived in the house in about 10 years. And you haven’t been back there. The night terrors started about three weeks ago? Why? Why now? After 10 years? Something triggered memories buried deep in you and your mind is being a bitch about it, excuse my language, instead of simply telling you what it needs you to know.”
“Do you remember anything happening right before the nightmares began?” she asked. “Something big? Important?”
“What about her?”
“She told me that she was pregnant.”
Dr. Pemberton nodded, as if something might have clicked.
“Now you see why I need this to stop. What can I do to fix it?” I asked, my voice becoming shaky. “Please. Help me.”
“I am going to ask you to do something for me,” Dr. Pemberton insisted. “It might sound strange, but I think it may help you unlock whatever memories are trying to get through.”
“I will do whatever it takes,” I assured her.
“I want you to find your old house,” she began, “and if it is still there, I want you to go there. Even if the house is gone, I want you to still go to where it used to be. I think being there will be the most effective way of figuring out what is going on inside your head. Will you do that? And then come back and see me, immediately.”
“If you think that it might end this torture,” I said. “My Grammy should know if the house still exists.”
After leaving the office of my psychologist, I didn’t waste any time. I was desperate and finally had a possible resolution in my sight. Like a sleepy bullet, I shot from the office and drove directly to my Grammy’s house. I had to keep moving. I had to keep the momentum going, because if I stopped I may not have the energy to start back up. Something in the back of my mind told me that Dr. Pemberton was right. There was more to my night terror than just bad dreams and I needed to find the answer.
After knocking lightly on my Grammy Eustace’s front door, I let myself in. Once inside the home, a long lost memory washed over me like a warm ocean wave. At first, it was filled with forgotten emotions. Sadness. An overwhelming feeling of loss. And the total devastation at having just lost both of my parents in a single blow. I was a tiny, broken little boy walking into my Grammy’s house. I wasn’t there to visit or stay the night, like it had been every other time before. I was there for good. My entire life had changed and I was helpless to do anything about it. But then, when my Grammy hugged me tight, I felt her love warming me from the inside out.
I would be okay.
Or so I thought.
I went straight to the living room and found my Grammy’s tiny form sitting in the same comfortable chair that I had earlier remembered, her television set on some show that appeared to be as old as her. Grammy had her head slumped to the side and looked like she had been dozing toward a nap. I immediately felt somewhat guilty for rousing her, but she didn’t seem to mind the visit.
At least, not at first.
“Darryl?” she greeted in her light voice. “I wasn’t expecting you. Come in. Sit down for a spell. How are you, dear?”
I told her that I was good, before giving her a quick hug and sitting down on the worn loveseat a few feet away. The look on her face was easy to read. Concern. She knew that I was lying. She knew that I wasn’t good. And I was just too damned tired to fake it.
“You haven’t been sleeping,” Grammy stated. It was not a question. It was a fact that she could see a mile away.
“I need to talk to you about something, Grammy,” I replied.
“Talk to me about what, dear?”
“About my parents,” I answered, my hands trembling.
My Grammy and I had never discussed what happened to them. It was like a black spot in our lives that we purposefully never filled in with color. I can’t be sure who’s choice it had been, but part of me believed that, a long time ago, we both had silently agreed to never discuss it. But I needed to break that unspoken agreement. It was time. I was ready. Or I hoped I was, anyway.
“Lovely people,” Grammy replied. “What about them, dear?”
“I want to talk about the house I grew up in,” I said. “The house where...they died.”
“Why would you want to do that, dear?” she responded. She then slowly rose to her feet and asked, “Would you like something to eat? You look like you haven’t eaten in days. How about I whip you up some leftovers? I got some meatloaf in the fridge and I can heat it up real quick.”
“No, Grammy!” I shot back a little too stern. “I need to know.”
Gradually, she lowered herself back down in her chair. After a minute of silence, all Grammy said was, “It is best to leave sleeping dogs to lie, dear.”
“This dog has been asleep long enough,” I demanded. And then I asked the million-dollar question. “Why...did he do it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Please, don’t lie.”
“I’m not lying,” Grammy assured me. “I don’t know, because no one does. It was all random and evil. A horrible mess. And I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to remember them like that. My daughter. Your father. And I don’t want you to, either.”
“What about the house?”
“What about it?”
“Where was it?” I asked. “And is it still there?”
“You are not going there!” she spat.
Her response told me everything. The house still existed.
“Please,” I begged. “Just tell me where it is.”
I had never seen my Grammy anything but docile and loving, but her face changed into something else. She was...tortured. I was dredging up pain that she had buried long ago and I hated myself for it.
“Mills Hollow,” she mumbled. “Pennsylvania. Union Road. A pile of shit in a piss town!”
I didn’t recognize the name of the town, but we were a stone’s throw from the PA border, so hopefully the town wasn’t far away. Maybe I could even be there by tonight, if I went straight there.
“And the house is still there?”
“Does anyone live there?”
“No,” Grammy replied.
“How do you know?”
“Because I own the cursed thing!” she exclaimed. “And no one will ever live there again, if I have a say in it!”
“Houses don’t kill people, Grammy,” I assured her.
“Don’t they, though!” she replied. “If I had been smart, I would have torn the fucking place down years ago!”
“Why didn’t you, then?”
“That house has been in our family for generations,” Grammy replied and then sighed. “It has been cursed, though. Cursed and damned. And I thought that if I tore the place down, that curse would be set free to follow us here. As long as that house remains, then the curse will stay put. But now you wanna go there and stir up ghosts? So be it. Just don’t bring any of them back with you.”
“Thank you, Grammy,” I said, rising to leave. “I’m sorry. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she replied. But as I bent down to give her a goodbye hug, she latched on tight to my neck and whispered in my ear, “Wish you would let sleeping dogs to lie.”
I didn’t go straight there, however, because I needed to go by my apartment first. After packing a few things, I made a quick call to my girlfriend to let her know what was going on. I explained everything to her and I could immediately hear the uncertainty in her voice, but she didn’t try to stop me.
She knew it was important. She trusted my judgment.
Mills Hollow was around a little over two hours away, according to my GPS, which meant that I should make it there before nightfall, unless a traffic issue or car malfunction slowed me down or stopped me along the way. I was putting myself in fate’s hands, and fate would decide whether or not I got to where I was going, in one piece or several.
Most of the drive, especially once I got into the less populated areas, went by in a haze of worry and fatigue. Even the songs that I played from off my phone began to blur into one long guitar riff and rum solo. Physically, I was directing my car down the road, but mentally, I was in a whole other place entirely.
That was until I passed a small green road sign.
Mills Hollow 10 miles.
I began to feel pins and needles at the back of my neck, at the tip-top of my spine, which intensified the closer I came to the Pennsylvania town. A familiarity set it. I knew that stretch of road. And I knew what I would find before I got there, even if it only came to me in fractured images and sensations.
Worn houses and double-wide trailers, with broken-down vehicles and dog houses and roaming chickens filling the front yards.
A dirty General Store with a row of gas pumps out front that hadn’t worked in decades. They sold freshly made subs in the back. My dad would sometimes get me a small one with turkey lunch meat, American cheese, and a glob of mayo, hold the vegetables.
An ice cream shop that desperately wanted to be a Dairy Queen. But their chocolate cones were never as good.
And at the center of town was a large, two-story school building. A million images filled my mind when I saw it. Along with a million voices. Teachers and friends. Riding the bus every morning and every afternoon. Sounds and sights that had slipped my mind long ago.
Mills Hollow was a slow country town, and as I drove through it after years of being gone, my fractured memories were right in front of me in flesh and blood. And, somehow, everything seemed the same as it had been when I was a child.
The sun was on the horizon and it would be night within the next 30 minutes. A nervousness hit, nearly causing me to find the motel I knew would be on the edge of town and hunker down for the night.
What I had come to do could wait until morning?
I needed to stay the course.
The only way to the other side was through.
I had quit paying attention to my GPS miles before and I didn’t hear it’s fake female voice telling me to take a right onto Union Road, because I knew exactly where I was going.
The address to my old house was Mills Hollow, but it wasn’t within the main borders of the town. Instead, it was a mile or so away from everything else. All by itself. In the middle of the woods. I knew that it would be. The few memories that I had of the place involved being constantly surrounded by trees. The nights must have been quiet and eerie. But, for a kid, I’m sure that there were endless shadows to explore.
The driveway to the house began as a narrow dirt road, a bumpy dirt trail that started at Union Road and then disappeared into the dense trees. It wasn’t a real road. And it didn’t have a name. It was only marked by a simple mailbox at its end.
Or, at least, it used to.
When I found the narrow dirt road, I pulled over and stopped instead of turning onto it. I sat idle for a few minutes and stared at the spot where my childhood mailbox used to sit. It was long gone. Not even a wooden pole to mark where it once had been. It was lost in time, like everything. But I could still picture it. It was a tiny replica of the house that I would find at the other end of the dirt road. It wasn’t an exact mimic, but it was close enough. My dad had made it himself, I remembered, and he was quite proud of his work. He hadn’t always been handy, but he had his moments.
Like when he built the cellar into the tall hill.
After school, when the weather was nice, I had been allowed to ride my little bicycle to the mailbox and grab the mail. It wasn’t all that far, to be honest, from the house to the mailbox, but for a little boy, it felt like I had been on an adventure far from home.
With so many memories suddenly coming to light, I couldn’t help but be overwhelmed. And a little sad. The last days at my old house had been forever tragic and traumatizing, a time that I would have done anything to forget forever, but in forgetting the bad moments, I had also allowed myself to forget the happy ones.
And in coming back to my old home, I was forcing myself to combat both, the happy and sad, the light and the dark. I just had to hope that I was strong enough.
I took my eyes away from where the mailbox had once been and let them follow along the dirt road. The sun was gone, ducked down behind the horizon, and the last glow of the day was quickly fading away, making it impossible to see through the darkened woods. My old house was somewhere back there behind the trees. I just couldn’t see it, yet. I could almost envision it as a living creature, lurking just out of view.
It knew that I had returned and it was waiting for me.
I sat for another minute, before finally taking a deep breath and turning onto the bumpy path that would lead me back home.
The dirt road was shorter than I remembered and the house at the end of it was a lot smaller. My headlights fell against a building that I didn’t immediately recognize. The few memories that I have held onto over the years painted the house, in my mind at least, as being large. Not giant. But a much larger space than I was pulling up to.
Maybe it was the way the shadows twisted beneath the beams of my headlights that made it seem smaller than it was?
Or maybe that was childhood?
Remembering things to be much larger than they were?
As I parked my vehicle, my headlights still spilling over top of the structure, the first impression that I got from my former home was...old. It was a single-story wooden cabin originally built back when things were created to last for generations. It had a simple wooden porch attached to the front, which appeared to be fully intact. A few modifications over the centuries, indoor plumbing and whatnot, had been made to keep the aged building in livable conditions.
As I sat there staring, I couldn’t deny the place's beauty, like I was looking at something from a history book.
That old cabin could have spoken a million stories.
I wondered whether or not my family’s story was the darkest of them.
No wonder my Grammy could never bring herself to tear it down.
Yet, I couldn’t help but to feel like something was hiding beneath the beauty, something sinister just below the surface. But what? That was what I was there to find out, I told myself.
A thousand memories began to unfold in front of me at the same time, phantom figures of a young child playing on the porch, running through the trees, swinging on a tire that no longer existed, like a thousand little ghosts before my eyes.
After shaking away the ghostly memories, I killed the car’s engine and everything fell into darkness. I snatched a black LED flashlight from the center console and cut the darkness with a new beam of light. Using the beam to guide me, I got out and moved around the back of my car to the trunk, which I had opened with a push of a button. From the opened truck, I pulled out my hiking pack, which I had stuffed full before leaving earlier that day.
I have always loved to hike and camp in the woods. I felt comfortable in nature. Looking around me, at the cabin in the middle of the woods, it was easy to see the possible source.
I threw my pack over my shoulder, closed the trunk, and then walked toward the cabin, up the rickety porch steps, and to the front door. Until that moment, I never thought to question whether or not I would need a key to get into the place. Luckily for me, the front door was unlocked and it pushed open without a problem.
I didn’t go inside right away. I couldn’t. I couldn’t say how many minutes I stood there and stared through the open doorway unable to move. My heart pounding. My throat tight. The hairs on my arms standing straight up. When a chilly breeze touched my neck, I nearly turned around and ran away. Back to my car. Back to the road. Back to my real home. But I didn’t. I eventually gathered the courage to break the threshold and go inside.
I can’t say exactly what I was expecting to find.
An empty cabin in the middle of nowhere seemed like a prime target for vagrants to hunker down or teenagers looking to party away from town. But, as I washed the area with a beam of light, I couldn’t see any signs of it. There weren’t any broken beer bottles, or sleeping gear, or trash, or any hint at all that anyone had been inside the place for a long time.
Only a thick layer of dust.
For a brief moment, I wished that I had brought some sort of weapon. A handgun. Or a rifle. Something for protection. But it was too late and I wasn’t leaving to get one. I would have to make due with the bear deterrent spray in my pack that was a few years old and might not work anymore.
From the look of it, the inside of the cabin had been cleaned out long ago. No furniture. No rugs on the floor. No hanging pictures on the walls. Nothing had remained of the family that had once called the place home. As I walked into the living room area I was greeted by emptiness and even more ghosts.
In the middle of the living room, I dropped my pack with a loud thud. Suddenly, small dark forms began to rush by my feet. I jumped back and cried out, nearly stumbling over my fear and the empty air. Quickly, I threw the beam of the flashlight across the floor to see several tiny mice rushing from the nearby fireplace and out through the front door.
“Holy shit,” I exhaled, watching the last little mouse flee from the cabin. Once I was sure there were no mice left to give me a heart attack, I closed the front door. Turning from the front door, my flashlight fell on another closed door several feet away. Before I knew that I was moving, I was standing in front of the closed door.
My parent’s bedroom.
submitted by Jackson_Arthur to Horror_stories [link] [comments]

2020.11.26 02:40 FrostCA11 How can I help someone get out of an abusive relationship?

I am posting everywhere because I’ve had enough my mom is being abused. She has been abused since I was three years old and I had to go through the abuse to. He beat her once my stepdad did and she still came back after like two months. He’s Strict he controls everything he monitors the phones. Well he did change for a while after I had my son but he’s worse than ever and he’s abusive sober now. I said he was strict so we had some really dumb rules like not flushing the toilet unless the water was yellow no slamming any doors no turning on any lights unless it was dark. Had to be back by three or we will be yelled at and we can barely see your family. My mom is really sick she has stage four cancer is terminal. She bleeds out of every part imaginable barely can walk and has lost left hand movement. She Beat stomach cancer lung cancer and she beat brain cancer in August and the cancer came back. All she has left is radiation and chemo and she can’t get her second chemo twice she was pushed away. Because of her liver levels EN the next time was COVID-19. Around a month or so ago he got drunk and got on top of her naked my sister had to pull him off because she couldn’t breathe she’s on oxygen at night. They went out to the back porch and he try to force his penis in her mouth. He also takes her check and my sisters and he calls her drunk which she is an alcoholic but she’s very depressed. Talk bad about her dad parents and recently told her that he was suffering more than her even though she has stage four cancer. I’ve had enough of him being mean to her laughing at her walking putting us down and saying that were the reason why she is dying. I am going to try and do something about it I contacted the domestic abuse hotline the next time anything really hectic happens I’m calling 911 and I can’t go down there because of my fears of him. No she is sick but I can’t keep dealing with this they call me the message but yet she doesn’t do nothing about it yes she is sick but she has told me angrily do not call 911 and she wanna talk to me. But I feel sorry for her but then I don’t. I know I have to do something...
submitted by FrostCA11 to Advice [link] [comments]

2020.11.25 12:36 neighborlynurse Moms naked walking around

Start at the beginning. There's a Part 1.
On mobile, don't steal this content.
Early November '19...DH was coming home for the weekend (he was working out of town), and it was snowing pretty significantly....I was in our back bedroom working on homework, waiting for DH. All of a sudden I hear the dogs going crazy and I think "oh! He made good time". Then the kitchen door FLIES open and I hear FIL (who remember, I hadn't seen in a year) in the kitchen. He's on the phone talking loudly and goes "yeah shes here". I stare at him because he just barged into my house unannounced and say "uhhh hi."
He continues to yell into the phone and I discern its my DH on the other end, my phone had died and he couldn't get a hold of me. Now, my DH goes from 0 to 80 pretty damn quick and my phone had been off for who knows how long, I thought he might be irritated at me, since FIL was yelling, I assumed DH was yelling too. FIL goes to hand the phone to me, and I kind of dance backwards and giggle and say "noooo way man, if he's mad I don't want to talk to him". That apparently ratcheted FIL up a notch. He starts getting more amped up, at which point i realize he's actually really pissed and this isn't as light hearted as I thought. He then yells some more and goes "well this is what you're getting into..." and continues grumbling into the phone more. It takes me a full minute then dawns on me what he's just said and I go "wait. Hold up." and he goes back out the kitchen door, slamming it so hard that he knocked the little hanger off the adjacent basement door and my boots off a shelf.
This all happens under about 6 minutes, then my sympathetic nervous system kicks in (little late to the party body...) and I realize that my FIL just essentially broke into my DH apparently is livid at me...and I'm pretty sure my FIL insulted me and my relationship?
My adrenaline rushing, I hurriedly plug my phone into the charger, call my DH and brace for the worst. Instead, he picks up and I hear "hey babe!"
Wait what? "Wait. You're not upset? Uhhh. Weren't you on the phone with your dad just now?"
He couldn't hear very much turns out. He was on Bluetooth and with the road noise... so I filled him in, and he was pretty floored his dad barged in, (but then tried to excuse it saying he had probably been drinking). But he was upset for me. I had finally started to figure out my feelings, and I felt violated. That's a very powerful emotion. People say they're feeling violated all the time, and I've said it before too. This was different. I felt exposed. Raw. My house is my safe place. I could have been naked in the shower. Vulnerable. You just thought you could barge in and take over? We don't even have a relationship! After I hung up with DH, called my sister, asked her if I was in the right for feeling these feelings and she replied with "oh hell yes."
So that solved the holiday conundrum. I no longer felt comfortable around his mother OR father. DH completely understood in why I didn't want to go over for the holidays. I put my foot down and said I was not going, but he should go and get it done with. He didn't want to go without me. His mom tried pulling "oh but she has presents..." DH tried making plans with his parents a couple times, one Saturday in particular was planned, he called them and asked what time he should be over.
WWN: oh! I forgot about that, I'm babysitting [high-school friends kids kids that she basically has stolen as pseudograndkids], let's do it tomorrow.
DH (and his itty bitty shiny spine he's growing): I'm not free tomorrow. You said today. I planned on today. I can't do it tomorrow
WWN: whaaaat? Just switch your plans. I didn't think it would be a big deal! We can do it tomorrow! I took the kids today!
DH: sorry. We're busy tomorrow. [Hangs up]
So that continued, allllllllll the way up until April, where for whatever reason, DH and I collectively agreed we would go over there for Christmas and have dinner and gifts.
I was dreading it. Absolutely dreading it. I'm not good with playing pretend. She disrespected me and I'm not okay with it and I feel I need an apology. We get through dinner and its awkward AF. The kitchen area is open concept, and I usually sit at the counteisland (They don't eat at tables?) in such a way where I just watch the TV. That's what I was doing, full avoidance mode, answering briefly when spoken to, otherwise not speaking to WWN or FIL. After dinner it gets worse. WE finish, clear the plates. WWN goes and gets a bag full of presents, sets it down, and slaps both hands on the counter.
WWN: (looking directly at me) before we open these. We need to have a chat. We CAN NOT have this happen again.
NN (adrenaline kicks in at appropriate time): chat about what?
WWN: [scoffs] you know what. You've been obviously having a problem with us for the last year! Your snotty little attitude has to stop and you've been keeping DH away from us! We bend over backwards for you and you're so ungrateful and stuck up! Nothing anyone does is good enough for you. You're just a snotty bratty little girl who always has to get her way. We never get to see our poor DH anymore because you're keeping him away from us!!" ( and more tirade about everything thats wrong with me, I don't honestly remember, nor do I want to).
NN: [blood boiling] [looks at DH]
That took the cake. I do remember this,this look, these words. I will never forget the amount of venom in those words.
NN: [loses my shit] EXCUSE ME?? I will look at WHOEVER the FUCK i want! Whenever THE FUCK I want! I haven't been keeping DH away! He's a big boy and can come over whenever he wants! He chooses not to! Remember all those times a couple years ago when we would come over for dinner and everything??? THAT WAS MY FUCKING DOING. Allllllll I did was stop suggesting to DH that we COME OVER!!! He doesn't WANT to come over!!! And I don't want to either!! Not when your husband just feels like he can BARGE into my house and make me feel violated!! Not when you call me a bitch to my face for no fucking reason! I hadn't spoken to you in 2 weeks!! Not when you blatantly disrespect your son by ignoring him and what he asked of you!!! Not when you disrespect me!!! Not when you think I'm stuck up! Or a "cidiot"! Or a bitch! Or entitled and a know it all JUST BECAUSE I COME FROM [THERE]?? HOW SMALL MINDED CAN YOU POSSIBLY BE??? DIFFERENT PEOPLE GROW UP IN DIFFERENT PLACES AND EXPERIENCE DIFFERENT THINGS. IT DOESNT MAKE THEM STUPID OR STUCK UP. ITS JUST HOW THE WORLD WORKS!!! Why on Earth would we want to come over?!?
It spiraled from there. I brought up EVERYTHING in my tirade. Poor DH, (remember, baby spine, lifetime of emotional abuse) was just sitting next to me, no idea what to do while his parents rounded on me. FIL then joined in the screaming to try to bring up something about how my mom had sent them a Christmas card and it was apparently subliminal messages about how WWN and FIL should just bow to my ways? That was straight ridiculous garbage. It was a Hallmark card and my mom legitimately is like ...a care bear. She wouldn't even be able to think of doing something like that. In fact, she thinks I should roll over and accept this... but I digress again.
After they started attacking my mom was when I tearfully turned to DH and asked "Can we go please?" Attack me all you want, but not my family. That's not cool. Not my mom.
We left and once we were back home I ran and got my phone, ran down to the basement, curled up in a ball, called my sister, sobbed and thought all sorts of bad thoughts that would make me put a trigger warning on the top of this post.
So that was April. From that conversation...verbal assault really; she admitted that she did call me a bitch, and yeah, what about it. FIL did end up apologizing for coming into the house and making me feel violated. He claims he knocked. Oh, and DH went over there afterwards a few days later to try to patch things up and explain that I just feel disrespected and I need an apology for her calling me a bitch. WWN got extremely defensive and said she wouldn't ever do that. From there, I continued to cut off contact, but DH still went over there very little from time to time and answered her phone calls.
So what makes this extra extra sticky is that our wedding was slated for 2 months from then in June. We had scaled back and only had a few people, which included the parents. I was worried about how I would handle it, with WWN there. I had a sister, a friend, and my photographer who knew I wanted NOTHING to do with WWN.
The day before the wedding I pulled into the hotel parking, and I kid you not, my in laws pulled in behind me. It was a itty bitty turn around so I couldn't leave. I immediately grabbed my phone and pretended to be on the phone. WWN had the balls to walk up to my car and knock in the window and wave. I was rummaging through some things on the passenger seat, so I just stuck a "wait a minute" (not the middle...oh hindsight) finger towards the window and rummaged on my seat for legitimately 10 minutes before I felt her move away from the window.
A few days prior, I made up my mind to hands down ignore them and have my day be the best day. And it was. The best day ever. My sister said afterwards it was obvious I was "chilly" towards them, but whatever. It was a perfect day!
So after the wedding, she seemed to have gotten the hint, and hasn't reached out to me. She still however, tries to keep a tie to her son. I've been dreading this holiday season because like last year, she expects a get together and for everyone (me) to just forget everything (her disrespect). My neices birthday is around Thanksgiving time, so I was planning on going down this upcoming weekend. I wasn't however, going to go down for Thanksgiving. I was mulling it over for a couple weeks and I thought I would extend an olive branch of sorts, and have DH mention to WWN, that if she would just apologize for disrespecting me, (literally I'd be happy with 'sorry I called you a bitch') we could put this behind us and I'd start fresh with them.
So I called my sister and was discussing the best way to talk to DH about it. She's a therapist and never gives me "therapist" advice, but I called her up and asked her for help because I wanted to see if DH and I could actually communicate about this. After the conversation, I was able to describe to DH how I felt, about how shes been disrespecting me. Acknowledges she did, yet won't apologize. And she doesn't care. Because I'm not important to her. She still has DH answering his phone and feeling obligated like he needs to go help them, rarely but some. That's all she's ever cared about. It doesn't matter if I NC her. The punishment, me NC, does not fit the crime. For the first time, in 3 years, we talked each other's language about this. GUYS. HE UNDERSTOOD IT. WE'RE ON THE SAME PAGE. HE FINALLY CHOSE ME. WE'RE A "WE". He even came up with "oh, so I need to leave. Yeah its like in my childhood...(proceeds to tell me another story that makes me sad for him) Okay. Ill call her and ask her one more time to apologize to you or we're not coming to Thanksgiving. We'll just start our own tradition here."
I stared in awe at him. So much that he got freaked out and asked me why I was staring. I kissed that man so hard. IT CLICKED. I have never felt truly like we were a team and that he chose me, (he always said he did) but this shows it. And I needed to see it.
He called her yesterday. Do you know how it went?
... ... Do you?
... ... Did you guess? ... ...
If you guessed I went to the store to pick up things for Thanksgiving today, you'd be right! 😆
Man, DH turned a freaking corner. He told me about it last night, told his mother she needed to apologize, she immediately started freaking out and replied with "well WE have a list of things that SHE needs to apologize for!! I'm not apologizing! That's just who I am [a petty stubborn immature child?]...blah blah blah". DH stayed calm, told her fine, we won't be over for Thanksgiving then and hung up. He told me all this while cooking dinner last night, matter of factly like he was telling me the weather. He expected it. I then clarified that this meant not just Thanksgiving, right? It's only going to work if you cut off contact? And he said, yep. Good thing I got my hunting blind the other day...I don't need to go over there anymore. I'm so proud of this man, I've never felt so secure with him as I have the past 2 days. I want it to continue, and I think it will. We've turned a corner. It'll be interesting to see what WWN does in the upcoming weeks. I don't think she's realized DH is shining up his spine for US. He chose ME. HE CHOSE US.
submitted by neighborlynurse to JUSTNOMIL [link] [comments]

2020.11.25 10:18 iamgodandashamed Moms walking around naked

I was born in 1968

At first it may be because of a failed relationship with a neighbour because she hooked
up with my brother. On that what sort of person does that, seriously. I wasn't ready for
that. I have decided not to swear on here. I will also not give away names or businesses.
They could possibly work it out but I won't name anyone. I just want to tell my story.
Later it became more of I just want to forget. And sleep. I can't kill myself or hurt

Some more reasons are that I was bullied throughout my life. My stepfather abused me. My
real dad was an alcoholic. My mother was controlling from my 20's. When I met the
neighbour I was 21. My Mother kicked both my brother and I out if we didn't stop seeing
the neighbour. But then again the neighbour was a waste of space. Around the late 2000's
my mum actually wrote me a letter to say stop seeing a mutual friend.

Some local kids decided to throw condoms with water inside them because I was friends
with a gay guy. I knew he was gay. So what. But local kids thought it was wrong. They
were homophobic. I could really get them into trouble now with that. But why bother. I
really just drink so I will die soon hopefully. I have lost all hope for humanity.
They threw them at my car.

Anyways, after my abuse I still didn't work out my sexuality until probably 1994/1995.
I am not sure.

My father was an alcoholic and lost the family business early on in my life. My mum and
dad separated when I was 5. I remember little about my early childhood. Mainly things at
school. One home incident really stuck out early. I have a scar above my eye because a
steel ladder hit it. 5 stitches.

I am pretty sure my dad use to abuse my mum and gave us all the belt at one point. My
oldest brother acted out a lot and left when he was 16 I think.

After my parents separated I would visit my mum on weekends and holidays and see my
stepfather and his kids. Then in 1975 my mum and stepfather moved to another state.
Starting in December, 1978, I visited my mum and stepfather in the holidays staying
about 5 weeks. This happened in 1978,79,80,81. In June 1982 my dad had the accident and
I stayed with my mum for about 3 months.

Another incident was a German Shepard ( named that way at the time) attacked me when I
was walking home and I got some bad scratches and a lifetime fear of dogs. Found out
later the dog attacked someone else and was shot dead.

I am one of three brothers. The oldest is now dead from a heart attack but was an
alcoholic. Around April he started drinking heavily and was told not to drink again.
The second oldest now has cancer but was born with brain damage. He was the
brother that the neighbour dumped me for him. ( again yea who does that?) Me. I am an
alcoholic and had been abused, bullied, cheated on, lost a son to a girl who cheated on
me. Yea so life is great hey.

I worked out my sexuality in 1994? Maybe. Well in 2000 I moved to a big city and started
driving a taxi. I left a winery because the lead hand wouldn't stop pushing his ideas on
me. One of my last conversations to him was that I would kill him and bury him. I think
I got the point across.

In 1978, I had a weird conversation with my stepsister. She asked me how I masturbated.
I didn't at that point. 2 years later after my mum and stepfather met another couple,
some of my abuse started. Yes it was sexual. I can't say I was forced. I wanted to do
it. I know that doesn't make it right. Its just what happened. With one of the sons of
the other family some things happened. We visited a nudist camp and nudist beach. The
other family had 6 children. They were a blended family. The oldest was about 16. The 2
stepsisters were a year older then me. The 2 stepbrother's were my age. There was a
younger girl. About 3 years younger. In 1982 I had extra relations with the other
brother and both stepsisters. We were all about 14 and 15 when this happened.

Actually in 1982, my father had a bad accident. He was going to buy a bottle of sherry
from a pub. Apparently he said he did a u-turn and hit a tree.
Actually he hit the tree at speed. He claimed someone ran him off the road.
He hit that tree with such force that the car, a ht panel van, had a rounded dent in the
front that it was amazing he was still alive. He had broken ribs, broken legs, and
troubles with eating and other things. He couldn't walk properly afterwards. When I saw
him in hospital I fainted. It was horrific. So I went to live with my mom. When he
recovered I went back to him. He continued to drink. We moved from one city to a town
then to a beach town. At this point I was experimenting with wearing women's clothes.
And in the beach town I continued with meeting men.

In 1984 my father died. He couldn't eat properly. And still drank. I started stealing
things from 1982 and ended up spending 3 months in a detention centre in 1983 ( I think)
then had probation until age 18. When I left the centre I again run away but my children
services officer found me. Anyways. I stopped acting out and lost my father.

In 1981, I was in a school in grade 8 in a high school that I knew nearly everyone in
the school. 1982 year 9 I did it then had to continue year 9 in another school where I
was bullied. 1983 I had to repeat year 9 but when I was sentenced to 3 months prison
after stealing bicycles, a boat and tried to steel a car and succeeded in stealing my
dad's car and drove to a big city, my dad took me to the police. In the police interviews
they first tried to pin a lot of stuff on me and i played along until i got sick of the
righteous cop who thought i was some sort of crime wave. I wanted to leave school. One
of the best things I made friends with the strongest guy in that place. Funny thing I
remember when a yacht won for a small country. And a song about still standing. I made
a coffee table too.

After my father's funeral me and the second oldest brother returned to my mother's and
stepfather's place. A caravan with all of my toys and coffee table, my brother's models
and telescopes and clothes was stolen as well as school photos. The caravan was recovered
but nothing else. Who steals photos and toys?

2 incidents that happened about 8 years apart in 2 different states really affected me
badly. The day after my birthday in 1986 I picked up my car from the pub, saw some
friends, then drove home when I got to my turn I saw some police cars and an ambulance
and a car that looked like it was sideswiped. Turns out the driver who was killed was a
local popular girl and was pushing her car after running out of fuel. The drunk driver
lost his licence and not much else. I reckon he should have been locked up for murder.
Another 8 years or so in another state a local kid hopped into his classic car and headed
into town but a big 4wd driven by another drunk driver was headed towards him and
collided and killed him. The drunk driver got a slap on the hand. He, too should have
been put in jail for murder. 2 more wastes of spaces.

I want to tell my story to everyone for free. I don't want money. I am a unemployed carer
for my brother who has cancer. If anyone wants to donate, donate to a worthy cause of
your choosing.

In year 7 the teacher's kid was in his class and because of that I got the cane for
several times. Of course I would like to find that kid now and whip him but he is another
waste of space.

The principal was also a waste of space and at one time kept us all on the parade ground
where someone fainted from the heat. À girl at the school who I liked lied that she
liked me but was joking. I did see her again in 1989 maybe. The third bf of the
neighbour punched me because I started stalking her, oh yes I did stalk her but again
who the hell hooks up with my brother after dumping me.

That couple later was arrested for drugs and later left the area. A local drunk who
abused me for the following and stalking ended up getting run over and died. I thought
at least one waste of space is now dead.

A stupid idiot died. Good.

There were some great experiences from my childhood. Like a cat that was blind that I
called pinky. She was a white albino cat. She was probably blind.
She was the greatest pet I ever had. She had a litter in my dad's doctor's case. She
once followed me all the way to the local shop ( about 4 kms) and back but I had to
carry her the last few hundred yards. But as all great things it ended with tragedy. I
came home from school and couldn't find her. My dad said he found her after being
attacked by dogs, her back broken he had to put her out of her misery. I have never
since had a pet like her. I don't know what happened to the dogs, but another
reason I hate dogs.

Put it this way. If I had a gun and a dog walked up to me I would pull the trigger.

On my stepfather. Yes he abused me and another kid. His reputation could be ruined by
this. His paintings are hanging in a council office and a park is named after him. If
anyone thinks they should be changed then I will get that done. If not I will leave it.
My stepfather passed away in 2005 from a heart attack because he still smoked.

My mother was controlling. I think in the early 2000's I told my mum and stepfather
about a girl I was interested in. That didn't work out. I never told them any other
relationship again. I think I picked younger girls because I missed out on girls from
21 to 33. I met many girls from 2001 to 2019. Most were younger. Only one was older.
But they were always of legal age. I could never be an abuser. And I couldn't be with
a married woman either.

Some of the first girls were Aussie, but I soon moved to Asian ladies, even marrying a
Vietnamese girl so she could stay in Australia. It failed though cause she was too busy
making money as a hooker. She claimed she was a stripper but she would bring guys back
to the house. In 2010 I changed to mostly African girls. My last lady friend was

A "gf" in 2017 to 2018 who I had a baby with who was still born because of her not
telling me that her water had broken. She also cheated on me. I don't know when it
started. Soon after leaving a job where I was bullied and treated like rubbish a guy
came to the house and she hoped I wasn't home. After some distinctive noises I did
leave. She wanted to have a second baby but after finding out she cheated I didn't want
to have another kid with her. Soon after we left the house and I went back to living in
my car.

Living in my car. Pretty sure I did this from December 2009. Anytime I had work in big
city. At one point I joined a gym so I could shower. Other times I went to swimming
pools. Later I found a truck service station that wouldn't mind who used the showers
as long as you bought something.  Actually some great meals and people at the
place. I couldn't really afford it but at least I wasn't paying rent.

Yes I am an alcoholic. I won't stop. I want to die. I am ashamed. If anyone wants to
stop me guess you will have to lock me up. In the world we have a megalomaniac who
wants to rule the world. We have minorities who are continually dying in custody. If
even one person doesn't do anything then nothing changes.

Met a lovely person in 2011. Things ended in 2012 when I left a Job to be with her. Job
later folded. Owners were another waste of space. But I loved this person. I know it
wouldn't have worked though. I was too old. If I had met her in, oh that wouldn't work
out. Let's just say if I was 20 years younger it would have been better.

I can only think of one woman who was my perfect match but that didn't work out. Or if
we were born in different times.

Pretty sure that I will never find true love or another job.

Thanks to the federal government for forgetting unemployed people over 35. Thanks
for one state government for blaming another government for closing state boarders
then recording more infections. And thanks to a waste of space.

Pandemic. Look at the numbers. One country has the most. This country never took
proper precautions. Their leader is another waste of space.

My new catch phrase. Another waste of space.

Jobs I left. 2 times at the winery. Firstly one couple couldn't work fast enough. I
know I am slow but this couple was retarded. Second time was because of that leading
hand. Driving taxis I just moved depots when I moved houses. In 2002 I worked for a guy
to deliver junk mail. He was another waste of space. I lived with him and his gf ( being
a friend of mine) I woke up one night to his swearing, actually turning out to be a
reminder to my dad.

I worked for a depot in 2008-09, because the mechanic thought it was funny to trap me
in the window. Guess what another waste of space.

I worked for a depot where the owner was a waste of space.

A dealership I worked for where I was bullied and that. Well everyone there was a waste
of space.

Oh yea bonus material. A girl and a cop tried to frame me for hitting her car. She
actually reversed into me. Her and parents ran a shop with adult videos and drugs. The
cop was involved. Anyways later on I heard he tried to pick up another girl and got his
brains blown out.

In that place before we moved I could get anything I wanted. For instance I could buy
a gun.

So should I keep drinking.

I also ran a few businesses of my own. And even one on an app. Again probably making
less then $10 an hour. More wastes of spaces.

Talk about slave labour. Even in this country they still want people to pick fruit
and be paid for weight. Again another waste of space.

From October 2018, after I left that house I would work up to 8 days then drive up to
the little country town and buy and cook dinner for my brother. Sometime in September
2019 I noticed my brother had a lump on his neck. He said he had it for awhile. I got
him to see a doctor and when he did she referred him to a ct scan. Then he referred to
an oncologist. He was diagnosed with incurable cancer.

Mum passed away in 2013 from cancer.

I moved all my stuff up to the house to care for my brother at the end of September.
Cook and shop and stuff. Drive him to his appointments. We have visited another town
which is 100kms away 26 times. My brother has had all of his treatments and all is good
for now.

I will no longer risk my brothers life now. I won't be meeting anyone for years.

Now to this year. I have almost paid off a big debt. Started in 1994/1995 with a
bankcard. Up to $13000. Paid it off in 2012 after my ute got written off. But then
made it again after the move to be with that girl. This year I also got the remainder
of me super. ( a stupid idea. Why not have your money now). Anyways bought some gadgets,
paid off debt and may have a road bike end of this year.

My body isn't too good. I am overweight and have high blood pressure. I had also
started smoking when I was 15 then gave up when I was 23. So at a later date I may
develop cancer as well. Do I want to know. Part of me does and my doctor has suggested
I find out via an x-ray. Part of me does not. We all die. I have now reached out to
see a psychologist to talk to someone about my mental health and life. But I also want
to tell my life story to my family, some day.

I stopped drinking the other day will now take it one day at a time. I know I have to be
here for my brother. After that I don't know.

Now my sleeping pattern is all over the place. Wake up at midnight after a few hours
sleep. Fall asleep around midday sleep til 8 pm. Then it changes again. Last night fell
asleep around 9pm and woke up at 4am. I hope it is all good now. Was thinking of drinking
again to make my sleep right but didn't.

We did have a memorial for my stillborn son and I named him after my stepfather. I don't
know why but it was the first name that came to mind. He is buried at a cemetery that I
have never visited. As far as I know there is no plaque. I will reach out to the cemetery
to find out if he has one.

I heard some wonderful news on sunday. I am drinking now. I am celebrating. I am an alcoholic.
In 2012 I stopped drinking for a few years. A few weeks ago I stopped drinking for a bit but
started again. I don't care if it kills me. A ducking dunt is still not gone from the usa
He should be removed.

Finally some good news. The ducking dunt didn't get enough votes. Now if he doesn't leave he
can be removed by the secret service. You will be able to guess who he is. I think he is
insane. My country is trying to get the country responsible for the pandemic to face some
sort of charges. That country has told my country to really think about what they are doing.
Probably a good idea not to pick on a very large country in terms of population.

Some things did happen in 1979. with that other family we did visit a nudist beach. In 1980
the other family purchased my stepfather's mothers' house after her passing. Then after
that we would visit the nudist camps. I cant remember much else that happened in 1979. At
one point some time early on i saw both my stepfather and mother naked. Probably was in
1978 now that I think of it the night I saw them was the same night my stepsister asked me
about how I masturbate.

I have found out where my son is buried. I checked some records from a council and found
out where he is and asked the council if he had a plaque. He doesn't so I am visiting the
cemetery soon and will get a plaque for him as soon as I can. He was light skin but still
be a person of colour if he lived, with all of the rascism that is still abundant in my
country. White people just don't know what it is like to be treated differently because
of the colour of your skin.

I had deleted some of these paragraphs but decided to reuse them. I dont want the world
to end. I just want my world to end.

My mum sent me a letter sometime in 1996 about my father having been abusive to her.
That's why she left him. I ran away to a big city for a year.

Going to get a gew more gadgets like a video camera to film my story to put up on
youtube using narrator to tell it. This is my life now. drinking to sleep and trying to
forget my life. I could of course stop drinking but where's the fun in that. I dont want
to live forever. I think the world will end soon. We have many countries that want to
start world war 3. Luckily the reign of a dictator has been ended. But i dont put it
past his stupid chrildren trying the same thing. I think the best solution is to kill
him and his entire family. That would save the world. But then again there is 7.8
billion people on earth. So why not end human life.

Actually I think all of the human races' problems are because of politicians. Lets
get rid of politicans if you want the human race to survive another 1000 years.

We have many websites where people scam other people, troll other people and
bascially treat other people very terribly. Why cant we stop these people. How
about get rid of the internet. It is not working. Many other things throughout
history has killed many people. Cigarettes, Alcohol, Coal, Oil and more that
without the world would be better off. There has been many wars too. Many
terriost actions and gun related crimes. One big country has a right to bear
arms. But they continue to have gun deaths and many other crimes. Get rid of
the guns. GET RID OF THE GUNS.

Remember hearing about a guy who actually shot his dad because his dad use
to beat his mother.

One last thing a stupid country voted in a complete dunt. And now there are
rumours you will vote in his daughter. What is wrong with these people??/?

In 1997 a certain popular person died in a car accident. I was making my
style of picnic tables when I heard. It was a sad day.

About 2005 I was driving to big city to do some job that was supervising
taxi ranks. I would finish at 5 am drive halfway home to the country then
sleep in my car. Wake up and drive home. Sleep a bit more then drive back
to big city.

I have sent an earlier update to my stepfather's kids and a friend. I don't
think I will see them again. I want to actually remove the paintings, the
gravestones and the sign at the park.

Actually I think a certain polictical party in a big country is to blame
because they didn't want a woman in office so they put up a candidate so
fundimentally stupid and he was voted in and now with rising deaths in
the country and now they can't get rid of him.

Tell you what let's get rid of violent games. I like violent movies but
they should be stopped too. A great movie trailer I saw was for Tom &
Jerry. Yes it is violent but it is a cartoon. Why should we watch movies
about killing then not think it in real life.

From 2000 I used a chat program on yahoo until about to 2006. Then
changed to one called tagged. where I met most of the girls. Met a
couple through facebook too.

Loved seeing movies at the drive-in or cinema. Saw a few great movies
up until 1978. The next movie I saw at a cinema was in 1989. Missed out
on a lot of great movies. Though now I have a great collection of dvd's,
CD's, records, tapes and videotapes. And Books.
submitted by iamgodandashamed to lifestories [link] [comments]