Breanna's Story - My Life

"My family is not that rich, but I was always happy."

Image with illustration of three mountains

Trigger Warning: This story mentions abuse of minors. Please proceed with caution.

I was born on June 2, 2011. When I was only one month old, my grandfather passed away from cancer. I never got to see my grandfather. When I was two years old, my mom broke up with my father. Why did they break up? Well, my father never stayed at home; he would always go out to party with his friends and smoke all the time. Even though my mom told him to stop, he wouldn't listen. When I was a kid, I thought he was a good dad. I was too young to know anything. I always wondered why my dad's breath smelled like coffee. It was because he smoked, but I didn’t know that.

Even worse, my dad borrowed money from gangsters and caused us to lose our home. He ran away without telling us. I forgot to mention, I have two brothers: one is five years older than me, and the other is three years older. One day, we came home to find our house painted red. I was still in kindergarten back then. I didn’t understand why, but I saw my mom cry.

My mom would always go out late to meet my dad secretly. But one day, she decided to leave him. She was heartbroken. I remember when I was five years old, my "dad" suddenly stopped in the middle of the road and told us to get out. He then drove away, leaving my mom carrying me and holding both of my brothers' hands. Luckily, a guy in a truck asked if my mom needed a ride. He dropped us at my grandmother's house. I remember him as a nice man.

I always thought I would have a "perfect family" one day, but as I grew older, I knew it was impossible. Every time someone asked about my dad, I would say I don't have one and ask them how they would feel if they didn't have a dad. They would tell me, "I love my dad!" while I hated mine. He made me lose everything. I remember he would often hit me and my brothers for small mistakes.

My mom got sick after my dad left her. She was heartbroken and developed trust issues, often blaming us for everything. Every day, I would get a new scar, but I knew it wasn't her fault, so I always told myself, "Everything is going to be fine tomorrow." I was struggling with myself every day. But my mom would always hug us and say sorry. Want to know why? Because she didn't even know why she hit us. She would forget sometimes.

She went to many doctor’s appointments, but they said if she didn't cure herself, she could kill herself one day if she couldn't control herself. She hated looking in mirrors, and I don't know why. But no matter what, I always loved her. I remember she told us that she would die without us and that we were the reason she was living. She said she didn't have the heart to leave us so young.

Time passed by, and when I was 11, I got to celebrate my birthday for the first time. I was so happy! My mom's health finally started to get better. For a while, I thought everything would be fine, but my mom would often fight with my uncle. I hated it, but I couldn't do anything about it, so I would always put pillows over my ears and act like I couldn't hear anything. It was funny, but whatever!

About my school life, I can't talk much because I was so scared. I only talked with my favorite teacher. She would tell my mom, "Please tell her to talk more and make some friends. She's very sweet and kind." But my mom wouldn't care. She always loved me no matter what and was always by my side. I remember when a student made fun of me for not having a dad and hit me. I told my mom about it, and she came to school and told the kid not to mess with me. She was my hero at that time.

My family is not that rich, but I was always happy. I would always ask myself questions when I was about to sleep and answer them. It was one of my habits. I'm too poor to have my own room or clothes, so I sleep with my mom and wear other people's clothes, but I'm still always grateful! People often ask why I dress the way I do or say they don't like my style, but I don't care because I'm happy that I have clothes and have fun all the time!

At the age of 13, which is how old I am now, my life is starting to get better. I talk a little more and do some exercise! But my mom and my uncle still fight sometimes. Oh, by the way, I'm still wearing other people's clothes that they don't want anymore. I wear them, but I don't mind at all! Remember to be grateful and happy no matter what! Find what you like and continue the journey! <3 The photo down there is of me and my brothers when we were kids!

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