Chapter Eighteen
See? Steven's not such a heartless piece of crap!
Peter listened intently as Steven started to open up. "I don't remember him doing it before I was born, but I'm sure he did. But I remember starting from when I was 2. Mom really did travel back then, although like 4 years ago she just quit her job and started dating around. When mom was gone my dad got really, really drunk. Not as bad as when Kristin was born, but drunk off his ass. He'd come into my room. I had white-blonde hair back then, and he would stroke it and say that I was his little angel, and with my hair, eyes, and pale skin I looked like a little whimp, someone perfect for him, or something like that. I hated his touch-I wanted to scream whenver I saw him after he did it. He would-" Steven stopped. Could he do it? He wnated to-he never told anyone, and he needed to-he was afraid he would kill himself. "You don't have to if you don't want to, Steven," Peter siad gently. "I-I want to." Steven said between soft sobs. "He would take off my pants, and slap me if I cried or screamed or anything-even if I squirmed a little. He'd touch me...
It kept up until I was 4. I guess it was because Kristin was born, but my hair was also getting darker, and the fact that I looked like a little whimpy girl back then was one of the reasons he did it. I hated the way he treated Kristin, he'd wrap her little wrists in rope and tie her up. Sometimes I'd untie her and take her to my room so he couldn't do anything to her, but when he saw she was gone he'd beat me, so I stopped. My dad started leaving her there for days, and he still sometimes went into my room, but not often. When she turned 2, I might as well had been invisible. I'd wake up, get dressed, and got to school. All the parents at the bus stop would ask me about the small bruises I got-nothing compared to Kristin's-and why my mommy or daddy never came with me. I'd say cos daddy was busy with my baby sister. Which by then was true. He would hit her then. Not hard, because since she was 2 it was easy to beat the hell out of her-a harsh spanking woulda killed her because she was so small. When she got older, like around 7, I started doing to her what he had done to me so often. I'd touch her...dad knew, and at first he made me, but then I started doing it myself cos I thought I hate her. His life was Kristin, work, and beer. Where was Steven? I wasn't in the picture, so I stopped caring about both of them.
After awhile I'd start to hit her-as hard as my dad did, even after he had just beat the hell out of her. I hated myself for it, but I didn't know who else to take my anger out. When I was 6 my mom started doing it to me. At first it was just beatings, but still no where near what Kristin got, usually with her hands. Then when I was 8 she would start touching me, to. She found out my dad did it and she decided to do it just to piss him off. She stopped when I was 10, because she had started to cheat on my dad.
When I found out I was being taken away from my dad, I was happy-he hit me after Kristin left. Not as much or as hard as Kristin, but he still hit me enough to raise question with the authorities. When my foster mom Laurie adopted me, I was kinda happy. A fresh start, ya know? But I found out that since they had no evidence that he ever hit me or did anything he was going to get custody of me again. So I wanted to commit suicide but-I was way to scared. I had caught my sister cutting sometimes and I acted like I didn't care but when she was alseep I'd go in there and take whatever she was cutting with- I never cut myself though. I started doing drugs when I found out that my dad was going to get custody of me. My grades were really starting to slip, so my foster mother became really worried. She followed me on day to the place where I got high and found me doing it." Steven said, still crying.
"I know she thinks I hate her, and i thought I did, to-but I really don't, I swear!" Steven cried. "Wouldn't you think that she hated you if she beat you?" Peter asked him. "I guess...but I protected her when she was a baby!" "She doesn't remember that-all's she remembers is her dad tying her up, beating her, and then the only other person she could turn to doing the same thing."
"I'd remember if my brother or sister protected me frm being killed sometimes." "Steven, I doubt you would." "Whatever. Now what do we do?" He muttered.
***Steven's POV***
I ccan't believe I just told him all that. I'm so embarrassed now. What little wimp let's his parents do that to him, then cry and tell someone? Damn you, Steven! I told myself.
See? Steven's not such a heartless piece of crap!
Peter listened intently as Steven started to open up. "I don't remember him doing it before I was born, but I'm sure he did. But I remember starting from when I was 2. Mom really did travel back then, although like 4 years ago she just quit her job and started dating around. When mom was gone my dad got really, really drunk. Not as bad as when Kristin was born, but drunk off his ass. He'd come into my room. I had white-blonde hair back then, and he would stroke it and say that I was his little angel, and with my hair, eyes, and pale skin I looked like a little whimp, someone perfect for him, or something like that. I hated his touch-I wanted to scream whenver I saw him after he did it. He would-" Steven stopped. Could he do it? He wnated to-he never told anyone, and he needed to-he was afraid he would kill himself. "You don't have to if you don't want to, Steven," Peter siad gently. "I-I want to." Steven said between soft sobs. "He would take off my pants, and slap me if I cried or screamed or anything-even if I squirmed a little. He'd touch me...
It kept up until I was 4. I guess it was because Kristin was born, but my hair was also getting darker, and the fact that I looked like a little whimpy girl back then was one of the reasons he did it. I hated the way he treated Kristin, he'd wrap her little wrists in rope and tie her up. Sometimes I'd untie her and take her to my room so he couldn't do anything to her, but when he saw she was gone he'd beat me, so I stopped. My dad started leaving her there for days, and he still sometimes went into my room, but not often. When she turned 2, I might as well had been invisible. I'd wake up, get dressed, and got to school. All the parents at the bus stop would ask me about the small bruises I got-nothing compared to Kristin's-and why my mommy or daddy never came with me. I'd say cos daddy was busy with my baby sister. Which by then was true. He would hit her then. Not hard, because since she was 2 it was easy to beat the hell out of her-a harsh spanking woulda killed her because she was so small. When she got older, like around 7, I started doing to her what he had done to me so often. I'd touch her...dad knew, and at first he made me, but then I started doing it myself cos I thought I hate her. His life was Kristin, work, and beer. Where was Steven? I wasn't in the picture, so I stopped caring about both of them.
After awhile I'd start to hit her-as hard as my dad did, even after he had just beat the hell out of her. I hated myself for it, but I didn't know who else to take my anger out. When I was 6 my mom started doing it to me. At first it was just beatings, but still no where near what Kristin got, usually with her hands. Then when I was 8 she would start touching me, to. She found out my dad did it and she decided to do it just to piss him off. She stopped when I was 10, because she had started to cheat on my dad.
When I found out I was being taken away from my dad, I was happy-he hit me after Kristin left. Not as much or as hard as Kristin, but he still hit me enough to raise question with the authorities. When my foster mom Laurie adopted me, I was kinda happy. A fresh start, ya know? But I found out that since they had no evidence that he ever hit me or did anything he was going to get custody of me again. So I wanted to commit suicide but-I was way to scared. I had caught my sister cutting sometimes and I acted like I didn't care but when she was alseep I'd go in there and take whatever she was cutting with- I never cut myself though. I started doing drugs when I found out that my dad was going to get custody of me. My grades were really starting to slip, so my foster mother became really worried. She followed me on day to the place where I got high and found me doing it." Steven said, still crying.
"I know she thinks I hate her, and i thought I did, to-but I really don't, I swear!" Steven cried. "Wouldn't you think that she hated you if she beat you?" Peter asked him. "I guess...but I protected her when she was a baby!" "She doesn't remember that-all's she remembers is her dad tying her up, beating her, and then the only other person she could turn to doing the same thing."
"I'd remember if my brother or sister protected me frm being killed sometimes." "Steven, I doubt you would." "Whatever. Now what do we do?" He muttered.
***Steven's POV***
I ccan't believe I just told him all that. I'm so embarrassed now. What little wimp let's his parents do that to him, then cry and tell someone? Damn you, Steven! I told myself.
