From the ages of 10 to 16, it felt as if I was living under the reign of a dictator. DICKtator as I called him. 

Alcohol consumed his life and mine. From taking my door off of the hinges, to throwing temper tantrums, or keeping me home from school and sports for discipline. This was my “father figure.”

My mother, sister, and I were stuck in a situation that was hard to get out of.

He was aggressive, controlling, and a liar. Nobody knew of the abuse going on behind closed doors. 

My mother’s ex-boyfriend always said I would never forget him and I would someday thank him for all that he did “for” me. The only thing I can thank him for is what he did TO me. He showed me how strong I am.