So, yesterday, I’m just cleaning my room and doing my laundry (as usual) and I get called downstairs by my step-dad (I’m gonna call him SD). He sounded upset so I was confused. He had me sit on the stairs and asked me, “you know the reason you aren’t in drama anymore isn’t just gas right?” “Yea? It’s because we’re stressed and busy, the gas is apart of it.” “Then why did you tell [best friend] that it was because of gas? Your mom got a text from [best friend’s mom] saying that you told [best friend] that we can’t afford gas.” “What? That’s not-“ “I’m tired of your lies. Ever since you were little you’ve always wanted your life to be worse— sprinkling lies everywhere like (I don’t remember what he said here). You make this stuff up and then go tell these lies to your friends! What do you get out of this?” “I- I don’t.. know.” “You’re delusional Elliot! Go and clean your [censored] room. I know your mom is gonna talk to you about this.” (Not deadnaming myself so I put my actual name) (there’s a lot of stuff missing because I can’t remember what happened exactly.)

My mom came home, went to my grandparents, then came back home. During this time I was panicking and terrified. I packed an emergency bag with two pairs of jeans, two pairs of pajama pants, four shirts, and a lot of underwear/socks. There was also perfume and deodorant. She comes into my room at like 7:30-8pm and tells me that she’s disappointed and hurt that I’ve been “lying” about her. And that I’ve “single handedly destroyed” her reputation and that she can never make friends in this town because of me. I don’t lie to my friends, I tell them what happens. I tell them when she yells at me, when she is terrible for no reason, when she makes me feel bad for eating, and god forbid when she hurts me or my sister(s). I don’t lie, I tell them what I have to so I’m safe.

Before I went to bed last night my mom and SD asked me who I thought I was, what gave me the right to tell people all of this. I told them “ I don’t know” but in reality I know I’m not stupid and I can see when things aren’t ok. I have the right to tell people about my home life, and the fact that they aren’t ok with it just goes to show that they know it isn’t ok either. The one thing that really stuck with me (as in I actually remember it and I didn’t repress it) is that my mom said that I was selfish and delusional, and that no amount of therapy will ever fix that. She said that right before I went upstairs to go to sleep and I ended up crying because what? I probably am selfish and what if I am delusional? Should I trust their word or my memory?

But I talked to my best friend and they told me what happened from their end (the first paragraph) and that they feel like it’s their fault. I told them not to blame them and that I don’t blame them. I also talked to another friend (I’ll call him Savior because atp that’s what he is). Savior said that I need to get out of there. He told me that I should write a few months of this down with dates and times (if possible) and he’ll try to get me out of here. He also gave me a reality check and reminded me that me trying to tough it out instead of actually getting help is only further perpetuating the abuse; he’s probably not wrong. He has ties with the government and with my word and proof of my story being straight for a long time (ex: emails and texts to multiple people) I might actually be able to get out.

I’m just so scared. My mom told me that if I think I have it bad now she can “make my fantasy” a reality and be worse than what she is. I want to get out but I’m terrified. I was so scared to come home earlier that I picked at my skin until my hands/arm was covered in blood and cried. (I sat out because we were doing marching band). I just don’t know what to do anymore.