Archduke Robert of France
February 6th, 2008, 11:45 PM
To start, let me say that this has to be one of the worst days I have had in a very long time. Today, I had to leave school early because of a dental appointment. So as I am walking from my class, I see the car parked with my parents waiting for me. I hurry to my locker and put my textbook away, when I come back and go to the passenger's door I tell me dad to sign me out (part of the school policy). He then says he did in a “you're an hour late†(which I was not) sort of voice and orders me to get into the back of the driver's seat. At this point, I am enraged that my concern for school policy was taken as an act of aggression. I open the passenger door and throw my bag into the seat next to me.
That was a mistake. My father then begins his diatribe on how I'll, “be driving a piece of shit car†and “could not even afford one to begin with.†Now if he knew anything about me, I have no desire to have a car and I never expected him to pay me for it. I also find it horribly ironic that I actually make significantly more than my father.
As I sat in the back of the car, I began thinking about everything that he has done to me. I guess it all starts in third grade. My father had been rather abusive, so to speak, and all this came out when a concerned teacher referred me to the counselor for some behavioral problems. I confessed that I wanted to runaway from home and just die in a ditch somewhere. They called my father in who put on a marvelous show of crying and “I'm going to change things.†When we got home, of course, he began screaming at me about how this was all my fault and blaming me for everything.
Things most certainly got worse for me when he got married for the fifth time, I believe. This time, I had a stepbrother and things got along quite well. We went to church quite a bit and I found the concept of God to be more than reasonable. When the marriage fell apart less than a year later, he began this whole thing about spirits and how she would burn in hell for divorcing him. At this point, I could still claim to believe in God, although I knew not why he would permit such things.
While everything was kind of just stewing, my dad and I got into a bitter argument. Although I'm not quite sure what it was over, I ran into my room and screaming into my pillow to release all the stress. Suddenly he storms into my room and chases me off the bed. He backs me into a corner and begins swearing at me. (Just as a note, we lived in a hotel-ish sort of place and had security guards. When I was younger, one of them actually came to the apartment because he was swearing at me so loudly). Anyways, he suddenly rushes toward me and pushes me against the wall. He then begins punching me in the stomach and storms the room in a fury. After regaining my ability to breath, I notice that I can taste blood in my mouth. I had seriously considered calling the police, but I could not bring myself to do it (more on this later).
Eventually he met someone else on the Internet and they got together. The thing was that she lived across the state and so she had to fly here if she wanted to see him. She claimed that she understood what I was going through and would try to make things better. It meant that we would have to move to Kona, but that was a comparatively small price to pay for a better relationship with my father.
The most serious doubts about my religion came during the week we were planning to move. He took me out of school a week early, meaning that I hardly got to say my farewells to all the friends I had made that year. Even though I know for a fact that he said he would not take me out on that day, he claimed that I was lying and trying to ruin everything for him. So after not getting to tell everyone goodbye, I was trapped in my house and cleaned up my room.
One evening I had decided to take a break from the third day of cleaning and called the person he was about to move in with. A few minutes into the conversation, he bursts down the stairs and tells me that I am being lazy and forcing him to do everything. Mind you, I had very little in my room left to clean. He starts screaming and all that.
Sometime during that week, we got into another argument for reasons I do not recall. He drags me to the store with him to pick up some food. He asks me if I wanted something and I said no, because I wanted to go back home. When we're in the check out line, he suddenly screams, “Fuck you, Robert!†extremely loudly. He gave me the most menacing glare I have seen. Even though other people most definitely saw that and looked at him, nobody did anything.
On the final night of our stay on Kauai, he bought a boatload of beers and begins drinking. He then gets angry at me for no reason, as I sit on the couch reading a phonebook out of boredom. He calls me “Satanâ€, “the Devil†and a bunch of other names. He threatened to beat me and all that. I just sat on the couch and cried for three hours until it was nearly midnight. He suddenly gets the brilliant idea to go to a 7-eleven for snacks. I agree simply because I'm afraid of what will happen if I don't. We buy some snacks and he takes me to a remote cliff area. At this point, I am terrified that he was going to kill me. I literally feared for myself and unlocked my door so that I could runaway if he tried to stab me or something.
I survived that terrifying night and moved to Kona without further incident. I confided in my father's new mate about my thoughts about him and what he's done to me in the past. I was fairly confident that she would be able to make things better, but it most certainly didn't.
Not too long ago, I learned that she would betray my secrets to him if it meant it would deflect his drunken rages away from her. One day he storms into my room, catching me off guard. He grabs my hair and yanks my head back, nearly knocking me off the chair. He starts swearing at me because I told her not to marry him because he's been divorced more times than I can count. It was, of course, more than just that but it didn't seem to matter. Perhaps it wasn't my place to say, but he began punching me in the face. He screams that if I do anything like that again, he'll drag me outside and beat me. Unable to take it anymore, I just broke down and cried for five hours.
Once more, I considered calling the police, or at least talking to a counselor. However, I was unable to bring myself to do either. Even though I have not despised anyone more than him, I can never bring myself to do anything. I'm partially afraid that he'll just get a slap on the wrist and make my life worse, or that I'll get taken away, in which case I don't know what will happen to me.
I have decided for myself that I no longer believe in God because of what I have seen. Besides him using God as justification for his brutal actions, I also find myself disagreeing with many of the Christian ideals (men being “better†than women, sexuality, etc.). I had thought about talking to him about it, but he reveres God so much that I have valid reason to suspect that he would do one of the following: 1) deny me food, transportation, etc. because “God†has given him the money to give me those things and if I don't believe in Him, I shouldn't get anything, 2) kill me in a drunken rage (he drinks a lot now) claiming that I am Lucifer or 3) completely disown me.
Things came to a head today, and I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. I could literally envisage myself strangling them in the car. Thing have progressed into school where minor things like a rumor have almost sent me off the edge. I don't really know if I can trust the counselors (seeing as how they have failed in the past), and I don't want to talk to one of my teachers because it would forever change the relationship. I am teetering on the edge of a breakdown...
That was a mistake. My father then begins his diatribe on how I'll, “be driving a piece of shit car†and “could not even afford one to begin with.†Now if he knew anything about me, I have no desire to have a car and I never expected him to pay me for it. I also find it horribly ironic that I actually make significantly more than my father.
As I sat in the back of the car, I began thinking about everything that he has done to me. I guess it all starts in third grade. My father had been rather abusive, so to speak, and all this came out when a concerned teacher referred me to the counselor for some behavioral problems. I confessed that I wanted to runaway from home and just die in a ditch somewhere. They called my father in who put on a marvelous show of crying and “I'm going to change things.†When we got home, of course, he began screaming at me about how this was all my fault and blaming me for everything.
Things most certainly got worse for me when he got married for the fifth time, I believe. This time, I had a stepbrother and things got along quite well. We went to church quite a bit and I found the concept of God to be more than reasonable. When the marriage fell apart less than a year later, he began this whole thing about spirits and how she would burn in hell for divorcing him. At this point, I could still claim to believe in God, although I knew not why he would permit such things.
While everything was kind of just stewing, my dad and I got into a bitter argument. Although I'm not quite sure what it was over, I ran into my room and screaming into my pillow to release all the stress. Suddenly he storms into my room and chases me off the bed. He backs me into a corner and begins swearing at me. (Just as a note, we lived in a hotel-ish sort of place and had security guards. When I was younger, one of them actually came to the apartment because he was swearing at me so loudly). Anyways, he suddenly rushes toward me and pushes me against the wall. He then begins punching me in the stomach and storms the room in a fury. After regaining my ability to breath, I notice that I can taste blood in my mouth. I had seriously considered calling the police, but I could not bring myself to do it (more on this later).
Eventually he met someone else on the Internet and they got together. The thing was that she lived across the state and so she had to fly here if she wanted to see him. She claimed that she understood what I was going through and would try to make things better. It meant that we would have to move to Kona, but that was a comparatively small price to pay for a better relationship with my father.
The most serious doubts about my religion came during the week we were planning to move. He took me out of school a week early, meaning that I hardly got to say my farewells to all the friends I had made that year. Even though I know for a fact that he said he would not take me out on that day, he claimed that I was lying and trying to ruin everything for him. So after not getting to tell everyone goodbye, I was trapped in my house and cleaned up my room.
One evening I had decided to take a break from the third day of cleaning and called the person he was about to move in with. A few minutes into the conversation, he bursts down the stairs and tells me that I am being lazy and forcing him to do everything. Mind you, I had very little in my room left to clean. He starts screaming and all that.
Sometime during that week, we got into another argument for reasons I do not recall. He drags me to the store with him to pick up some food. He asks me if I wanted something and I said no, because I wanted to go back home. When we're in the check out line, he suddenly screams, “Fuck you, Robert!†extremely loudly. He gave me the most menacing glare I have seen. Even though other people most definitely saw that and looked at him, nobody did anything.
On the final night of our stay on Kauai, he bought a boatload of beers and begins drinking. He then gets angry at me for no reason, as I sit on the couch reading a phonebook out of boredom. He calls me “Satanâ€, “the Devil†and a bunch of other names. He threatened to beat me and all that. I just sat on the couch and cried for three hours until it was nearly midnight. He suddenly gets the brilliant idea to go to a 7-eleven for snacks. I agree simply because I'm afraid of what will happen if I don't. We buy some snacks and he takes me to a remote cliff area. At this point, I am terrified that he was going to kill me. I literally feared for myself and unlocked my door so that I could runaway if he tried to stab me or something.
I survived that terrifying night and moved to Kona without further incident. I confided in my father's new mate about my thoughts about him and what he's done to me in the past. I was fairly confident that she would be able to make things better, but it most certainly didn't.
Not too long ago, I learned that she would betray my secrets to him if it meant it would deflect his drunken rages away from her. One day he storms into my room, catching me off guard. He grabs my hair and yanks my head back, nearly knocking me off the chair. He starts swearing at me because I told her not to marry him because he's been divorced more times than I can count. It was, of course, more than just that but it didn't seem to matter. Perhaps it wasn't my place to say, but he began punching me in the face. He screams that if I do anything like that again, he'll drag me outside and beat me. Unable to take it anymore, I just broke down and cried for five hours.
Once more, I considered calling the police, or at least talking to a counselor. However, I was unable to bring myself to do either. Even though I have not despised anyone more than him, I can never bring myself to do anything. I'm partially afraid that he'll just get a slap on the wrist and make my life worse, or that I'll get taken away, in which case I don't know what will happen to me.
I have decided for myself that I no longer believe in God because of what I have seen. Besides him using God as justification for his brutal actions, I also find myself disagreeing with many of the Christian ideals (men being “better†than women, sexuality, etc.). I had thought about talking to him about it, but he reveres God so much that I have valid reason to suspect that he would do one of the following: 1) deny me food, transportation, etc. because “God†has given him the money to give me those things and if I don't believe in Him, I shouldn't get anything, 2) kill me in a drunken rage (he drinks a lot now) claiming that I am Lucifer or 3) completely disown me.
Things came to a head today, and I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. I could literally envisage myself strangling them in the car. Thing have progressed into school where minor things like a rumor have almost sent me off the edge. I don't really know if I can trust the counselors (seeing as how they have failed in the past), and I don't want to talk to one of my teachers because it would forever change the relationship. I am teetering on the edge of a breakdown...