My Mom Lost Her Kids Because Of Me, She Then Walked Into A Room With A Gun
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My mother has always been abusive. All my life, she kept punishing me for every little thing. I remember one time she got home from work and saw that dinner wasn’t ready, so she burnt the back of my hand with a grill. My parents got divorced when I was a child but despite her abusive behavior, I still wanted to live with her, together with my younger brother and sister. I don’t know why I chose to stay with her. Maybe I still believed that she would change one day. But it only got worse.
Even though my mom kept abusing me, she never wanted me to leave her. Somehow I managed to go to college but my younger sister and brother stayed with her. They were unhappy there. I knew it would be better for them to live with our father and stepmom since they always cared about us. So I decided to help them to get full custody. My mom, of course, didn’t know that. Anyways, I went back home before Christmas to help my mom clean her house. This was basically my decision to give her a last chance. I thought if she could get her home out of hoarder status and if she went to therapy, she would be able to have custody of my brother and sister again. I wanted her to get better because no matter what, I’ve always loved her.
But well… On Christmas day, I was planning to take a bus to my father's home. My bags were packed and I was waiting in the living room to say goodbye to my mom. I needed to wait a bit since she was on the phone with her lawyer, talking about the custody of her younger kids. So, I called my dad to ask him something. I was on the phone with him when something terrible happened. I remember my mother walking into the living room from the kitchen. She had a gun in her hand. Her eyes were dead as they normally were whenever she was abusing me. She asked me how did I get the balls to be in her home when I was helping my dad take her kids away. Apparently, her lawyer informed her that I was going to testify on my father's behalf for the custody. I don't remember her firing the gun, but I do remember feeling the heat of something passing by my head on my right side. She kept pulling the trigger but the gun jammed.
The next thing I remember, I'm running down the road still on the phone with my dad. I remember he kept screaming if I was okay. When I was three blocks away from my mom’s house, I called a cab that took me to the bus station. My dad kept calling me to make sure I was alive. When I got to the bus station, I still didn’t feel safe. I just kept watching the entrance of the station since I was afraid my mom will find me there. But I finally got into the bus after two hours of waiting and reached my father’s home. After this horrible incident, I needed a lot of time to recover. But as weird as it sounds, I didn’t call the cops because I didn’t want my mom to get into trouble.
I haven’t talked to her ever since and we eventually got my brother and sister into my father's full custody. And well, I understand that all the negative experience I had with my mom affected me for life. Once every few months, I imagine that I am dying on the floor in a messy house amongst the trash, roaches, and anything else I couldn't clean up for my mom. It shakes me up for a few days. But I understand I can’t erase my past, so I learned how to live with it.
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