6. The hardest thing I've ever experienced

6. What is the hardest thing you have ever experienced?

...
I've pondered this question for the past two days--and sat down to write this post many times--hoping to sound "meaningful," "inspiring," or "heartfelt"...but at the moment, I am scared. A montage of images keep flashing in my head and I don't know if I'd feel comfortable writing them or even having them read by anyone.

*Deep breath*

When I was seven, my mother married the father of my half-sister, Julia. Julie is so beautiful and I love her oh so much. I did not love her father. He was a weird man. A man that I never felt comfortable around. A man that did not respect his role as a "father" and "husband." A man that was abusive--in more ways than one. A man that hurt my mother and my family. A man that hurt me.
Thinking back to that time in my life, I recall four memories related to my former step-father.

//Memory One\\

I was at the dinner table (sitting on top of two phone books so I could reach the table :3). My brother and I were expected to ask someone to pass the food when we needed it or give a summary of our day. I never could get my voice above a whisper when he'd ask me about my day. I never could say his name outright, "Steven." I could only whisper his name.

//Memory Two\\

One night, Mom knelt in front of me in the living room and asked me why I didn't like Steven. I replied, "He smells weird and I don't like his hand." A brown recluse spider bit Steven's hand, forever leaving it deformed. I never liked his cologne--he never smelled like Dad. Dad's cologne was the way a dad is supposed to smell like. Old Spice. :]

//Memory Three\\

*This is super creepy--you can skip if you want*

It was Thanksgiving and we went to Hometown Buffet for dinner. Mom and my brother piled out of the car, leaving me behind with Steven. I was so hungry--I just wanted to get out and eat. I unbuckled my seat belt and went to open my car door. Steven asked me to stay in for just a second. I did and then he said that there were some dog biscuits on the floor of the car--if I was so hungry, I should eat a dog biscuit. You know, to show him how hungry I was. I took a bite of one and then spit it back out. He let me out of the car and we went into the restaurant.

Memory Four:

//MY HARDEST EXPERIENCE\\

All I remember is being woken up in the middle of the night by lots of shouting. Mom and Steven were in a fight in the kitchen. Mom was also 8 or so months pregnant with Julie at the time. Jim woke up and I told him to be quiet and then snuck out of our room. Jim followed. We crawled underneath Julie's soon-to-be-crib and then peered inside the kitchen. I saw Steven yell at Mom. I saw him hit her face. I saw Mom cry. I saw him punch her pregnant stomach. I saw my mom fall. I saw him kick her stomach. I saw him pick her up and throw her. I saw Mom land. I couldn't stand it--but I had no idea what to do. I was only seven. Steven left. Mom tried calling for help, but Steven cut the phone lines. Eventually, Mom, Jim, and I got to a shelter and stayed there for a few days. During that time, Steven got into the house and poured battery acid all throughout our living and dining room--ruining the carpet. It was like a constant reminder that he was still there even though he'd left. I hated seeing the holes in our carpet. I hated what he did to our family. And I hated that someone so horrible would be privileged enough to call himself a "father." 

I'm not writing these memories solely for "pity" or for "vengeance." haha I've learned to forgive. But I haven't forgotten...I don't think I ever could. Forgiveness means different things to different people--I bet some see it as a weakness, especially in a case such as mine. I don't know what you're thinking after reading this, but please don't think differently of me. It's taken a lot out of me to write this--I just hope you'll see what I've written as an honest reply to a simple question: What is the hardest thing you have ever experienced?

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