unwritten by Timothy Terry (best feel good books txt) 📕

repulsive and gross. My brother? You have got to be mental to even think about doing that. I locked my door for days and days.
I didn't tell my mother. Whats the point I thought I said no. That’s that.
He would ask in several different ways after that. It would be “wanna do it” or “suck my dick”. It was absolutely gross.
It had been a couple of weeks since he would ask again. It was about mid- August and it was about nine o’clock. My mother had just left and my brother told me I wanna show you something in mom's room. I said okay and he shut and locked the door. I turned around and I asked him “is that necessary”?
He replied back “its very necessary for what i'm about to do”.
I then cringed because I didn't know what the hell he was about to do. He then pulled his penis out and showed it to me. I almost fell over and I backed up to the wall.
I said to him that this is very inappropriate.
He said that id been parading around in close that showed off my butt and clamed I was trying to “turn him on”.
My brother asked my one time “are you gay, because you sound gay”.
I said yes. I didn't think he would do what he was about to do.
He leaned in to kiss me. Right when his lips touched mine my reflexes told me to slap him. I slapped him in the face.
He said very out of character “don't ever fucking do that”. He then grabbed by my hair and threw me as hard as he could on my mother's bed.
He then forcefully tore off my pajamas I had on. I know that I should not o into detail. At that point he had sex with me. Forcefully of course.
I cried frantically and I asked him, get off, just get off. This is wrong.
I blacked out after the first five minutes. I remember at one point I kicked him in his lip and cut it. It started to bleep and he slapped me so hard in my face that my whole head turned.
I don't know if it was him slapping me that hard that made me black out or just me not wanting to see it, but I blacked out.
Somehow I ended up in my own bed the next morning. I didn’t remember much of it just what I told you. I lay-ed in bed for the whole day.
I knew what he did was wrong. I was violated. I was physically alive, but mentally my innocence was gone. I was mentally dead.
I felt lifeless. I finally got out of my bed at about 9:00 at night. I walked past my brother who was playing video games and he said hi.
I said hello back. I didn't want to think about it. I did things to not think about it.
The best therapy was sleep. I thought in my sleep he can't hurt me and I won't think about it.
If your wondering if it happened again? Yes. Many times. I had count, but lost track.
Another time he raped me again was when I was reading and my mother was gone as usual.
My mother was always somewhere else, when I needed her to come to my rescue. She would be at work, partying, or out when it happen.
I was reading and he came in and said “hay sexy”. I said no i'm not in the mood.
He told me he didn't care if I was in the mood. He said he was going to get it when he wanted it.
I answered back “your a sick motherfucker, you know that”. He picked me up by the hair and back handed my and threw me back on my bed. He tore off his pants and again he decided to rape me.
Sometimes he would choke me during it. Just enough where I would pass out.
After a while I stopped screaming and blacked out. I think that was my way of dealing with it. Going to sleep and I didn't have to see it happen.
I would wake up and act as if nothing would happen. It was my way of coping, I think.

I felt as though my body was physically there, but my mind was not. Most of that era of my life is a blur. Sorta like seeing one of those “black and white movies”. The really bad ones from a different time.

I finally came out to my mom and started secretly seeing a guy we will call Jon. Jon was a big, but sweet guy. One day I told him about my brother raping me. He then tracked my brother down while my brother was on one of his walks around town.
Jon started to talk to him about me and told my brother he would kill him if he would ever touch me inappropriately again. My brother said something about me and Jon socked my brother in the face.
My brother then came home crying like a big baby to my mom. Long story short my brother never touched me again.

My mom finally got fed up with my brother after one night some people came to out to our house to tell her of the stuff my brother was doing. My brother apparently knew they where here and showed up to our house with a knife.
Not just any knife, but one of this circle ninja knifes.
My mom sent my brother away, and I have not heard of him since.
Although he had only lived there for eight months he changed my life in more than physical abuse or even sexual abuse. Oh no he did so much more than that. He took my innocence away. What he did was wrong.


Six:
Happy are those who dream, dreams and are ready to pay the price to make them come true


I then started school again after Christmas brake. I was a totally different person. My whole personality changed.
When I used to be such a happy and loving person I turned into a dark, Gothic, punk kid. Everything about me changed.

My grades prior to Christmas break and Chris living with us where A’s and B’s. My grades dropped to D’s and C’s. I hated everyone. My teacher's, my friends, and anyone who would contradict me.
My friends stopped talking to me . I remember one time my group of friends sat at a table on the opposite side of the cafeteria at lunch time. When I walked over to were my friends where, and sat down one of my friends, who I will call Bobbie said “ You can't sit with us anymore, your really getting weird”.
I replied back I don't need you, I have other friends, your a fucking nerd anyway”.
That was the last time I ever talked to that group of friends.
I found a new group of friends. It was your typical group of punk, Gothic, kids. The trouble maker's the ones that are always in some kind of troubles.

My attitude toward adults also changed dramatically. Instead of being the respectful kid I was before. I thought that I was right and everyone else was wrong. I remember whenever my mother said something I would find a way to contradict her, with everything.
When my mom would tell me that I could not go out with my friends I would tell her “ill be home by ten” when in truth I would stay out until three in the morning, or she would say can you do my dished I would say I don't look like your damn maid, do you own damn dished.

I remember I went from choir class, because I hated choir, and I went into intro to Spanish class. I remember exactly who my teacher was. The day I had my schedule change I had to get a paper signed by the teacher.
The teacher's name was Mrs. Gee. I remember when I walked into the classroom she was sitting at her desk yelling at students. When I walked in she stood up,to talk to me there stood a short women, as who looked like she may be no taller than 5 foot 7 and no more. She had silky, shiny blond hair in which came up to her shoulder’s wearing kackey pants and a blue polo top with a collar on it.
When I said hello and held the slip of paper she said “ don't you see I'm doing something. You can wait over there. She said pointing to a wall, informing me to wait on it.
After five minutes of her talking to the other kids and yelling at them she finally walked over to me and snatched the paper out of my hands. She said, oh you will be in my third period

Mrs. Gee and I where on good terms for the first few weeks or maybe even a month or so. Then it started.
Mrs. Gees and I first feud was in February of my seventh grade year. I remember what our argument was about. She said something about my close. She stated your pants are too high. I replied “so what, it's not like their too low.
She then said back, you do not need to talk to me like that. I'm not your parent's. I am your teacher.
I then said back don't like it don't look at it then. Then the bell rang and she made me stay after so she could give me a lecture about respect. I probably apologized and she let me go off to my next class.

Another one of our many problems and feuds was when I was smart mouthing Mrs. Gee, just absolutely being absurd and refusing to do my work. She then told me to finish the worksheet I was working on at home and I threw it down and said whatever Hitler.
Although I realize it now, though I did not then, but that was rather Racist.
I remember she wrote me up. On the office slip she wrote on the slot that was on it that I was in the third grade. I guess that I was acting like I was in third grade. She told the coach and he made me do like one hundred exercises called up downs.

I remember one other times me and mrs. Gee came to blows was a time one of my classmates gave me a silly picure of the cartoon corrector sponge bob was holding up his middle finger and I was showing it off to my classmates as I was working on a project. She snatched it out of my hand and wrote me up. I remember my school Principle gave me weeks worth of ISS.
Though theirs many other times me and Mrs. Gee feuded I cannot spend all day talking about it.

She wasn't the only teacher that I was rude to. I had a special education math teacher named Mrs. Powers. Mrs. Powers had a very loud voice which later she claimed that she was toned deaf and could not help how loud she talked. Mrs. Powers was mildly a larger women, but lost weight the following year.
Mrs. Powers had what seemed as though she had anger issues. She has one