Growing up, my childhood was a little…. interesting. Long story short my father was physically,...

verbally and sexually abusive, as well as a narcissist, drug addict, gambling addict and alcoholic. So basically, we had no money, the house was always loud or chaotic and most of the time i was crying, comforting my crying mother, or hiding in my room. But I grew up and that was my normal so I really didn’t think anything of it. We lived in a dingy little house, and I only felt peace in it when my father wasn’t home. Now, I am 17 years old and luckily me and my mother managed to escape my father, and everything that happened...

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