Mom's family was a little suspicious that we were being abused. Her younger brother –our fun uncle- and his wife had a little girl, and we spent summers going back and forth to the beach or to their home. While we stayed with them the last time, they noticed bruises, and our skittish movements. We constantly flinched if we dropped things, we ate only after they did, and we slept either around our sisters or by ourselves. Things just seemed odd. They asked if we got their money on our birthdays and holidays, but we didn't get money. We only saw the cards, but our mom suddenly had cash to spend.
They never found evidence, yet when the oldest girl started high school, she got a bigger group of friends whom she talked to about her home life. They started to get worried, seeing the injuries she sported. Soon, they convinced her to call Child Protective Services –CPS- about things. They came over to investigate, bringing everyone into the living room, including our parents. The man asked us questions about how often they drank, if we were left alone a lot, if we thought we were being beaten, etc. We all replayed robotically, nodding and saying the right answers. We didn't think we were abused. The school taught us how to spot it. Our house was nothing like that! Dad 'loves' us, Mom cooks when she's home, our family took care of us, we passed school –some better than others- and our parents only argue. As far as the rest of us were aware of, everyone is raised to fear getting in trouble, should be quiet so Dad can watch his TV with one of his kids in his lap most times, and they drank only every so often, never having more than a few at a time. The man left, and nothing was done to them. The eldest, however, was sent into a mental facility because she obviously needed a psychoanalysis.
She came back very upset with everyone. She felt like we abandoned her. Even though we attacked one another, we felt united against our parents. We'd get together at times, sitting on our beds and talking about things that we hated about them. She must have been going through horrible mental punishment given to her by her.
She always took the fall for whatever we did if it was bad enough because they thought she was trying to get us all to gang up on them. We had sheer numbers against them, so we could have put up such a fight, but.. we never wanted to, no matter what they did to us. I suppose we were well trained.
Since Mom's family suspected mistreatment, her parents watched very closely when we moved into their house. She had left Dad for the millionth time, which we all knew wouldn't last long. It never did. She's a codependent. We didn't have a place to stay, nor enough money to take care of us, so our good grandparents agreed. They're such nice people, even now.
Things went pretty well up until the princess had an argument with Mom. They were outside on the long, long driveway made up of sharp rocks arranged haphazardly, hard, red clay riddled with potholes. After it escalated, Mom grabbed her by her curl, frizzy hair and pulled her all the way up the driveway and the wooden stairs into the house. The cops were called –by our grandma- but they ended up arresting our sisters for a day or do. Our grandparents were NOT happy that our mom wasn't in trouble, but they couldn't do anything about it at the time.
I was maybe late 11 or early 12 the night she left us there. I didn't sleep well –I still suffer from bad insomnia today- so I stayed up working on a project for school. The others were asleep, along with her parents. She squatted down beside me, a warm smile on her face. She pet my head, which I really love, so I felt like whatever she had to say would be good news.
"I'm going away for two weeks to go to San Antonio with your dad. I won't be here when you and your sisters get off the bus tomorrow. Tell your grandparents they have to watch you all until I get back."
"But, I though he wasn't staying with us."
"I know, sweetie," she ruffled my long hair. "But he said he's changed. Don't worry about it, okay? Tell the others I love them. I have to get packed now."
She stood up and grabbed one of our old school bags with rolling wheels. I nodded, not thinking much about it at the time. She left us alone so often that it wasn't unusual behavior anymore.
On the way home from school with all five of my siblings, we road home on the bumpy bus. The others were complaining that Mom was going to get back together with Dad again, that they could feel it, so I told them she was. After they collectively talked to each other, they asked me why she wasn't home this morning. I relayed her message, and they scoffed and rolled their eyes. Some of them said 'typical' or 'of course' but the youngest seemed happy. I was too. Both our parents together again, what would be wrong?
We arrived home soon. Our grandma also wanted to know where Mom went. I informed her, too. Her face went from confusion to shock to angry in 3.5 seconds. She picked up the phone and proceeded to yell at her daughter, saying that she couldn't just up and leave like that, and shouldn't use a child as a messenger for news like some pigeon. The day went on, grandma muttering while our grandpa did his best to coax us into a sense of security or whatever. Once she settled down and figured Mom wouldn't change her mind and come back, she ended up calling the cops again. It was the straw that broke the camel's back.
A van drove up to the house, and in it were our other grandparents. They told us to pack our bags with everything we wanted to keep. It wasn't much, though. They took us to a hotel, where we stayed the night. You would never understand that feeling of waiting. It was so.. so.. ugh, it was awful. We aged from 17 or 16 through 9 or 8 years old. Six young girls stuck in another hotel –we stayed in them frequently enough that it wasn't too unfamiliar- with the people who also hurt us, being told that things would blow over. No, it wasn't kidnapping. For some odd reason, the CPS workers sent HIS family members, who lived 9 to 12 hours away depending on traffic to pick up children who have been suspected of abuse from a house that was completely safe. Don't ask me what the hell they were thinking.
They woke us up early, then drove us to this building. We stayed in a small lobby-like area packed full of movies, snacks, and carpeted floors all day. They took us one by one into a separate room, talking to us and asking questions about home-life. We must have described quite the story because they freaked out when we finished up. By the time we were once again stuffed onto a large van, it was well past dark. They gave us McDonalds for dinner, then finally dropped us off at this house where Foster Kids stayed. Supposedly, we stayed at our uncle's house, the one with our little girl cousin, for a month between the questioning and being placed in a Foster Home, but I can't remember any of that at all. I thought for the longest time we went there first until my aunt told me otherwise.
So, they got us checked in, and we stayed there until the end of the school year. We got adopted by our aunt and uncle. Literally, they picked us right after the last day of school before summer vacation started.
It took another year and a half or so for the adoption process to finish. We had a family, most of us anyways. The reason the princess wasn't taken in too was because she was too much. She left bruises on the youngest's arm, fought our aunt, and tried to seduce our uncle. It was so gross. . She was so used to 'daddy' loving his little girl, but he looked just as disgusted as we felt. All in all, we couldn't help her anymore. She wanted to stay that way. Now, she lives around with HIS family still.
The oldest turned out almost exactly like our mom even though she was the most promising one of us intellectually. She was in college, but dropped out to have her baby at 17 or 18 years old, and now dates a guy over twice her fucking age who was in jail at 16 –while she was barely born- for molesting his 4 year old niece. We don't associate with her anymore. We don't like her boyfriend –they could be married by now- and she became satanic but claimed to still be Wiccan. Trust me, this is an argument for another day.
The second eldest left when she was 17. She also fought with our aunt and uncle a lot. As far as I know of she went back to our mom, but decided she wasn't any different than the last time we saw here. She's now in collage and has a job as a mechanic doing very well, but she hasn't come back to us. We don't mind. She's a good kid, but –like most of us- she has a lot of mental and personality disorders.
The fourth oldest has been into a couple mental facilities to help with her issues. She was suicidal at one point, but is now doing much better. She gets a job when she can, has a boyfriend, and is in NHS –National Honor's Society- and is in the top 20 percent of her senior class.
The youngest has quite a large case of Survivor's Guilt. She does not have anything wrong with her other than mild PTSD, but it's less than the rest of us. She likes to pretend she has insomnia and other disorders, but our psychiatrist, councilor, and other experts say she doesn't have them. It's been proven multiple times, but you try explaining that to a 14-year-old.
I have been to the most mental hospitals out of us –about 4 different facilities, but have been in one twice so it makes 5 stays in total. The last one lasted 1-and-a-half years to the day in three long-term facilities-. I have PTSD, OCD, ODD –oppositional defiance disorder-, ADHD, major depressive disorder, cluster A and B personality disorder, and I most likely have multiple-personality disorder, but I won't tell anyone about it. They'll just send me back into hospitals or give me more meds that hardly work. It's not like I have specific voices in my head like last time –it's happened before, which is why I know they'll send me away. They did the first time- but is more like I'm saying a lot of things at once, but I have completely different opinions about one thing or another. I'll be out walking the dogs and think about music of some kind, and I think how I loved the lyrics cause they match my mood, then there's a whole chorus of voices arguing to be heard over the others. Some say the same things in different ways and my head starts hurting, and I yell in my mind for them to shut up. Half do so or say okay, and half yell back that I should shut the fuck up. There are angry ones, sad ones, happy ones, dumb ones, logical ones, neutral ones, ones that disagree when all of the others finally agree for some damn reason, and then there's me. I know they aren't real, but at times, I can just imagine all of us sitting in a court room, everyone in the juries as multiple me's, and the defendant is the thing I'm thinking about. There's so much scrutiny for anything that happens to drift by.
I also have moods that flip around quickly, and, as a girl, that shouldn't be uncommon, but to the extent that I have? No. One minute, I'll be fine and content with things, then I get so angry I have to go outside, find thick braches, and beat them against the trees breaking most in two or three swings. I mean, these things are as thick as my freakin' arm. Or I'll be numb, not really thinking or feeling anything, then I almost break down crying for no reason. This happened the other day. I was watching a YouTube video when my eyes began watering bad. I held myself together long enough to ask to use the bathroom and walk down the hall before I locked a stall, put my face in my hands, and cried for 2 or 3 minutes until someone walked in. I then felt like crying until after a class and a half afterwards. This girl was helping me to feel better, and I STILL don't know what made me cry.