Being adopted as a child always made me feel like I was stuck in the middle. Growing up it wasn’t always easy being around kids that always talked about their lives at home, I always wanted to share my experience with them but I just knew that I couldn’t. I was always worried about what would happen by the time I got home
I always hated being home, I would make every single excuse I could to stay after school regardless if it was having detention and most kids and teachers couldn’t understand that but the truth is everyday when I would go home I would have to look in my mothers eyes while she would beat and torture me. She would let me go days without eating and when she did feed me it was popcorn or pop-tarts. She adopted me but hated me so much and I never understood why and till this day I still don’t
She would hit/beat me with anything in her sight, something so little could happen to her and I wouldn’t even have to be there but as soon as she would walk through that door everything was my fault it got to the point where I was going to school with bruises on my face and teachers would ask me what happened and I would just say anything; the most wildest story I could think of, but see me as a child I knew that because I was adopted that people would make me seem like I should be an outcast or be called “special privileged” but I was always smart just not smart enough to deal with my mother. One day she even told me enough was enough and told me to leave because I didn’t like her boyfriend she really chose someone she had just met in 2 weeks. That made me feel like it was really my fault at the time, I was young and not really accountable for my actions at the time. There’s been many times when I would have dreams that I killed her. When I was 13 I got caught stealing and my mom had to come pick me up for the store’s security she put up a front in front of them and acted like she really cared but as soon as we stepped foot in the house she hit me in the back of my head with a vase, glass broke everywhere and I pasted out she just left me on the floor I could tell because when I had woken up I was still in the same exact spot. I just went in my room and cried in my pillow because if I cried out she would’ve came in and hit me again.
Honestly don’t know why I wanna tell this story now but she can no longer hurt me. I’m about to be 19 in four days and my mom still continues to try to get in contact with me but I just cant.
— Naijah, age 18