I can't take my life anymore I just need to write it out for the world to see how pathetic it is... My mother and father weren’t married when my mother got pregnant with me. My father walked out on my mother. He didn’t come back until he had the shit taken out of him by his older brother and he had put himself through school and gotten his PhD. My father originally comes from Haiti. He’s gotten where he is through sheer will power. In that aspect he has my respect. I didn’t meet my father until I was four. My mother decided to give him a second chance and we moved in with him. For the first couple of years things were okay. Then when I was around six we moved out of the country because of my fathers job. At this point things started getting bad. At first it started out as emotional abuse. I was routinely called stupid, lazy and fat. My mother was continually told she was worthless because she had no job (note this was my fathers fault as we had to move for his job) and only had completed a four year college degree. Then things started getting worse. I would be called into my fathers study and if I was looking at him the wrong way (his favorite reason was that my eyes were opened too wide) I would get backhanded across the face and told I disgusted him and to stay away. I would also be hit if I didn’t come into the office quickly enough. Around this time my little sister was born. She wasn’t an easy child and my father would force us all to sit in his study and watch her scream. He wouldn’t let any of us pick her up or try to comfort her until he allowed us to do so. Things continued like this until one day I forget why things crossed the line again. I don’t remember why my parents started fighting but they were and this time it didn’t stop until my father backhanded my mother across the face. Of course nothing really changed. My mother didn’t have many options. She had a newborn and an elementary aged child and she was living in a foreign country with no support system. My father just got worse and worse. Fights would start if dinner wasn’t ready on time, if we didn’t leave the house on time, just about anything possible was cause for more insults to be hurled our way. There wasn’t another major incident until we moved back to the U.S. At this point I was around nine. I remember we were living in a hotel at the time while we were looking for a house to buy. I was stuck on some fraction problems and this made my father furious. He told me once again that I was stupid and worthless. I don’t remember why, normally I was too petrified of him to stand up for myself but I think that time I had just been told one to many times what a loser I was but I tried to stand up to him. This resulted in him picking me up by my hair throwing me down across the bed and beating me until once again my mother intervened to take the abuse in my place. Once again even after this nothing changed. We continued to go about life as if everything were fine even though at home we were routinely cursed at and told we were worthless. Once again things continued to simmer until my father completely lost it one day and punched my mother in the face. Again my mother threatened to leave but never followed through. My little brother was born and things continued on low burn again until my father decided to change jobs. This resulted in him getting fired at his new job which resulted in us being homeless for about a summer and having to live in my Aunts second house. Of course their were massive fights but nothing got physical I think in part because my mothers parents lived just up the street. In the end we ended up buying a house in PA where my father shut himself into his office and we didn’t see him pretty much ever. Ultimately he found a new job with an electric company in Las Vegas and left us to travel out there. Understandably things calmed down until we got out to Las Vegas and started living together again. I remember a huge fight in the hotel there which resulted in my having to barricade myself in a bathroom to avoid being physically harmed. To this day whenever my little sister gets in a fight with anyone for any reason she shuts herself in a bathroom. Things calmed down for the most part. There were still fights and still the emotional verbal assaults but no one was gone after physically. Unfortunately things were not going well for my father at work and I recall one day I was feeling particularly depressed and couldn’t bring myself to go to school. My father once again started in with the stupid unappreciative bitch routine however this time probably because I had hit the age of sixteen told me to get my ass out of his house. Once again I don’t know what came over me but I stood up to him except this time it resulted in a punch to the jaw which resulted in me being hit to the floor, a split lip, and a fairly nice sized bruise the next day. I remember hyperventilating and screaming like an animal I was so enraged with my life and what was going on. My mother managed to convince my father to back down and at that point I thought that there was no going back that things were going to change that my mother wasn‘t going to be able to gloss this over once again. I was wrong. My father decided to switch jobs once again, this time to California and tried to force us all to move yet again. At this point we hadn’t lived in one place longer then 3 years. My mother finally put her foot down and we stayed in Las Vegas while my father went to California. Those were the calmest two years I think of our life. There was no senseless fighting, we weren’t being called stupid twenty four seven, I was in all AP classes, getting good grades, and had a job. My sister and brother were involved in clubs and scouting and had friends. My mother made friends and was forming a social network until of course my father struck again. At this point I was about to graduate high school, had gotten into every college I’d applied to and the rest of my family was for the most part well adjusted and happy. This time my father had found a new job in Massachusetts. There was really no reason to move other then that it was back to the east coast and that the family would be living together again. My mother was torn over whether to go or not. She wanted my brother and sister to see their father but we couldn’t sell our house in Las Vegas and my tuition needed to be paid somehow. Of course my father forced the issue and we ended up buying a house we really couldn’t afford in MA (my father refused to rent) thus having two mortgages as well as tuition. Needless to say things weren’t peachy keen. This brings us to the present day. I’m being controlled by threat of tuition revocation, my bank account is being drained because we can’t afford two mortgages and college tuition, my mother is looking more haggard then ever, my sister and brother have no social life or friends because they can’t bring anyone home for fear of my fathers temper tantrums, and my father continues to do whatever he damn well pleases because as he says he ate dirt for years and that we’ll never understand, and that he earns the money and supports our unappreciative lazy asses. According to him I should be happy that I have no money in my bank account and that I’m going to come out of school in debt because the fact that he worked so hard as a young adult is the reason I get to go. There was just another huge fight in my house in which I came within a hairsbreadth of having the shit kicked out of me again and my mother got screamed at for hours while my siblings and I hid in a bedroom so as to avoid garnering unwanted attention. I don’t know what to do…my mother won’t leave and I can’t leave as long as she and my sister and brother are stuck.