My dad is a tyrant

I am 17 years old. I’ve never posted my problems on websites. I have a friend who I told everything to and it made me feel better. But as time went on, things got more complicated in my family, and it became difficult for me to talk about it even with my closest friend.

I have an ordinary family: mom, dad, me and my brother. Ever since I was a child I heard scandals, but they were only on weekends. All weekends our father slept, and the three of us would sit in separate rooms and create a coffin-like silence. If we weren’t talking in whispers, my father would run out and yell at the whole apartment.

We lived in that apartment until my 6th grade year, I didn’t know what a normal family looked like, and I never complained, even loved my father. Then we moved, it seemed like life started with a new leaf, but, of course, things continued.

When my father slept, we were silent, when he ate, my brother and I were not allowed in the kitchen, we were afraid to walk around the apartment talking, but then I took it all as if it were meant to be.

My father was involved in some illegal business and went to jail for it, for about two years. That’s when I realized what real life was, I felt the urge to come home soon, to my mother, to my brother. My mother became so happy, she stopped being afraid, we all started to live again. But nothing lasts forever, especially happiness, and my father came back.

My father was involved in some illegal business and went to jail for it, for about two years. That’s when I realized what real life was, I felt the urge to come home soon, to my mother, to my brother. My mother became so happy, she stopped being afraid, we all started to live again. But nothing lasts forever, especially happiness, and my father came back.

My brother has health problems, poorly developed speech, he is severely behind in his studies, he studies in a regular school with healthy children, so it is very difficult for him. And our father always didn’t care what was going on with us. He would give money to mom, and mom would buy everything.

But he didn’t play any role in our upbringing, he just yelled and that was it. Until they put him in jail, the only thing that saved us was that he worked hard and we rarely saw him. But after prison things got worse, he still doesn’t work, it’s his third year.

Tortures us, yells at us, picks on my brother why he’s such a bad student. My brother is a little slow with his studies, and he yells and yells at him.

There was such a case: Dad told Dima to learn a story, come to him and tell it. So he did. My mother and I heard him yelling at him, but we endured it. But then the roaring started, just for the fact that my brother, you see, was not paying attention, and jumped up and ran to them. Said calmly that he had no right to yell at the child and took Dimka away.

My mom helped me, but after 2 minutes, he flew into his room and started yelling, “Get up (my brother went to bed) and tell me. And then I heard my brother start crying. He had never cried in his life, he endured a broken arm, fractured clavicle, walked for two days at least squeaked, and then I hear – crying. I couldn’t help myself, I burst into the room.

A scandal broke out. My father hit me with his fist, and I hit him back. With each blow, I tried to get stronger in spirit, hoping that someday I would be able to hit him back for real. He would have beaten me up, but my mother flew in and saved me.

And it happened very often, there were weeks that were every day, sometimes once a week, sometimes less, as when. My father was sick in the head, his own sister was in an asylum, I think there was a place for him there, too.

When I hear him walk up the stairs in the entryway, my heart sinks. I don’t know how much more I can take.

I’ve read a lot of stories, and in fact, I just found out today that you can share with someone in this way. You can’t really talk to your family about it, or to your friends, especially when they have their own problems, or a perfect family, they won’t understand. Mom says that everything will be fine. But I know my mom is afraid to file for divorce, and it will never end.

I don’t have very close relatives to run to in case I need to hide or spend the night. There is a grandmother who lives alone, but she doesn’t want to help. She just calls and says, “You have such a fun family, I like it so much.

There was a time when I wasn’t home, my mom was away, and Dimka really wanted to stay with his grandmother so he wouldn’t have to stay with his father, but she wouldn’t let him come. It was winter and my brother was out in the cold all day.

My father is always humiliating us, bullying us, pissing us off. And one day he drove my brother so mad that when we were celebrating my grandmother’s birthday, Dimka said: “I wish you were dead.” My father smiled without thinking for a long time, then jumped up and started kicking him as hard as he could.

I don’t know who to turn to. I’ve often thought about committing suicide, but I realize that I will never leave my brother, and that maybe I can graduate from university, get a job, and leave here forever.

It may be strange, but since I have no one to share it with, I reassure myself with thoughts of having a normal life in the future. The scariest part is that every day when I go to bed, I pray that my father will die, and even stranger still, every night I imagine killing him, and I feel better. Maybe this is the limit I don’t know, could it get any worse?

I’ve written before that this is the first time I’ve written about my problems on the site. So I don’t know what I want: help or for someone to read and write that I am not alone. Or just to make me feel better that I have written all this.

I feel like I’m in a no-win situation. And maybe what I have already written about my problem will be the first step toward the freedom of my family.