This is probably going to be the hardest chapter for me to write. I need to explain some things about my brother. He is borderline retarded. He had behavioral problems all throughout school and is like a 12 year old in a man's body. He was jealous when I was born because he had been the baby. We used to be really close when I was a kid. I saw a few violent outbursts over the years, but nothing like what I was going to go through.
Just an FYI, he had hit me before, usually one of those split second moments when you shock yourself and are so sorry afterwards. There was a time when he broke down the bedroom door to get something that belonged to him. He slapped my mother once and when I tried to get between them I was pushed into a glass mirror and it broke. We have lived in the same apartment for 16 years and I still am worried about what the landlady will say when she sees the destruction in this place.
But I never got seriously hurt in any of these altercations. Well, the day we found out about my mom's staging, the subject of Lissie got lots of play. I couldn't raise her. My mom didn't even want that for me, she wanted me to get out and have my own life. I was so sick and Daniel, my brother, kept saying, you don't have cancer anymore, you just want to be free of all of us. You are selfish, and the like. Then he exploded and started hitting me with a shoe over the head. All of the sudden, his hands were around my neck and I couldn't breathe.I think he pushed me into a wall and I hit my head, the details are fuzzy and it was over very quick. I managed to call out to my dad to call 911 and that shocked my brother to stop and he ran out of the house. What followed was he tried to kill himself, was taken by ambulance and got combative with cops, was arrested for that, but basically got away with it. My mom spent so much time consoling him and all I could think about was what about me? My head still hurt, I had a black and purple eye, I had to tell everyone I fell down the stairs. I did eventually go to the E.R. with that story and got checked out. I had a hairline skull fracture but nothing else. I went through a bad patch after that. I was afraid for my safety. I started packing up my possessions, trying to control my environment, and basically imploding in an anxiety ridden state. All I could do was worry. I cried, I had panic attacks, I think I went through a little PTSD, I don't know, and I am still not totally back to normal, as reliving this as I write causes me to tear up. I have since forgiven my brother. As Jesus said, he knew not what he was doing. It is still hard to trust him, and I will talk more about that later, as this isn't the last time he would scare me beyond all reason.
