Two-faced love

I was on all fours, gasping for breath. Attempting to recover from a massive blow to my body that knocked the air out of me. I don't remember were exactly I was hit, but I laid on my stomach (as I was told) still unable to breathe. I had just barely caught my breath when he sat on what felt like full weight on my back. This restricted my air even further pressing my ribs to the ground restricting my lungs. I attempted to tell him when he elbowed my back telling me to shut up and stop fighting.

He grabbed one of my legs and pulled it up. My tight pelvic muscle (I think that's what it's called) was immediately struck with excruciating pain. I immediately cried out and was met with another elbow to the back. This painful process endured until finally he dropped my leg and moved to the next one. This leg must have been tighter than the last because the excruciating pain was worse. I couldn't help but cry out and bite my arm.

When he finished that side he took both legs and pulled them back hard. I was once again met with the excruciating pain that was impossible to get used to, but what made it worse was the sudden panic that rushed through my whole body. I couldn't be in this position. I couldn't move my legs, both were in his iron grip. Now I really did attempt to fight the painful lock he had on my legs. Now I really did cry out letting him know I couldn't move. I was met once again with an elbow to the body, this time the elbow actually hit me hard enough to really feel pain throughout my stomach. He held me in that position a few seconds longer before dropping both of my legs to the ground and getting off of me.

"Get up." He ordered. My young six year old sister was in the corner silently watching the whole thing. As I got up I wondered what was going on in her head. I wondered how she felt. But all I could see were her deep, dark eyes looking. Her innocent, young face solemn.

Later that night I cried. Not because of the stiffening pain I was in but because of the overwhelming confusing hurt I was feeling. I am constantly told that I am loved and cared for and I believed it every time. But then something always happens, confusing me all over again. What I always tell myself is that my father loves me, so does my mother. They just don't know how to show it consistently.

They put me through a lot of pain physically and emotionally. They tend to consistently keep me under their control and discourage any dreams or aspirations I have for myself. They also say plenty of words that worsen how I feel about myself. For example, "Your weak. You would never survive on your own." or "Your stupid and a fool. Do you think your husband would want to deal with that?" I often try to hide it, but I often believe what they say. And I always take it out on myself. I realize now that it is not mature nor a strength to keep everything in and blame it all on me. No longer can I sit and take everything. I have to be more mature, I have to take action.

The only action I could think of is to find a way to get out of the situation I am in. When I do this I can no longer let people get into my head, allowing me to think falsely that I'm unable to do it because of my age, or my gender. I'm going to find a way, and if plan A doesn't work than I'm going straight to plan B. Once I find a way for me to get out, I'm going to find a way to help my siblings if it gets worse or continues.

In conclusion, I do believe my parents love me, they just don't understand me or how I feel. I don't know if this is abuse, I'll let you decide what you think it is. All I know is that I need to get out. And that I'm going to get out.