Being dragged outside

I was about 11 years old. My parents were trying to get me into the car to take me someplace (more about that someplace later on). Not wanting to go, I became dead weight, which made it harder to move me. I had read someplace that the civil rights protesters were told to do that when being arrested so that’s why I did that. I was dragged outside onto the sidewalk in front of the house. The knees of my pants were torn from the friction between my knees and the cement and my knees were bloody. When my dad could drag me no farther, he began to kick me. This went on for a short time until he broke down crying, asking out loud what he had done to deserve this. My mom went to comfort him, so I got up and went back in the house.

Later on, I showed my mom all of the bruises on my back and ribs. She pushed me into her bedroom, and made me show my dad. They laughed and someone said, “You’ll never do that again, will you!”

~ by dysfunctionalfamily on December 26, 2007.