Mello Of Suburbia (To be woken up when Sept. ends)

Marie Espinoza. The name I’ve been carrying since 1997. I love my name, Marie. My last name, it’s shameful to me. I’ve even come to believe it’s a curse. I’m a troubled teen for many reasons. I find refuge in music. Green Day to be specific, but this isn’t about my music choices. September of 2007 was possibly the worst and best month in my life. Well actually all of 2007-2009 was just a nightmare. I can’t believe I made it through. It was all lies, violence, abuse…

My father. He doesn’t deserve to live. He’s a fucking bastard, I despise him, I HATE him. When I was a child, I guess most of my life was okay. I was growing up in lies and hypocrisy, though. My father always looked after me because my mom was the working one. God forbid he lifted a finger and when my mom proposed he got a job, there was a sure beating for her. My mom got engaged to my father when she was just 18. She got married at 22 and had me when she was 25. I had a fairly happy childhood until I was about 7 years old. My father brought in some woman neither of us knew. She was supposedly his “cousin”. Pshh…cousin; my arse! My mom later caught on to what was really going on. That…”woman” if that’s what you call it, was my father’s lover. He was cheating on my mom, in our own house. He had brought her to live there! What kind of shit is that? So, my mom confronted my father. He beat her until she was unconscious.

Then he brought 2 more people to live at our house. 2 underage girls. One was 14 and one was 16. I don’t exactly know what he did with them but knowing him, it must’ve been illegal, abusive, and wrong. When I was 8, in 2005, my mom had my little brother. My father went to Mexico to supposedly build this huge house he’d planned. BS. Instead of using the money my mom earned to buy materials, he spent it all on booze, prostitutes and drugs. Then, mom was just browsing the Spanish newspaper and there was this article about a murder. There were two people involved. Some random prostitute and my father. Turns out he had killed a woman. Yes, he killed her, then dumped her body along the road. Then he fled to the US and told my mom if she ever called the police, he’d kill her too. That he was capable of doing it and didn’t care. He’d often get drunk and hit my mother brutally. One of the worst beating I saw was when he dragged her down a long flight of stairs by her hair, hit her face into a bloody mess and kicked her in the stomach till she threw up blood. I witnessed that and so much more.

It was I think…2006? Yeah, 2006. My father made mom quit her job because he wanted to open a business but needed my mom to manage it. All of our money was invested in it. We even lost our home to it. The business they were opening was a grocery store. We all ended up living in the store’s office cause well, we were literally homeless. My school in Waterbury, CT was just like an insult to injury. I had to steal candy from the store so that I wouldn’t get the shit beaten out of me. When my father discovered I was stealing it, whoa, it was a horrible experience. He whipped me with a belt till I had welts then I had to sleep in the parking lot of the store. I thought about running away but I had no friends or family to go to. I was only 10 years old! I didn’t know shit about life on my own, let alone the streets. I had thought about what would happen if my father did, in fact, kill my mother. What I would do, where I would go. Thankfully, he didn’t but on many occasions he was damn close.

In September of 2007, my mom had enough. Mom told me about everything. My father had beaten her ever since they were dating back when she was 19. He stood her up at the wedding. He never wanted my baby brother and always denied him as his son. There was so much more too. She knew if she stayed there, she’d end up killed. So one day, she told me to gather my clothes cause we were leaving that wretched place, that horrid life. We ran to a nearby park and my mom called my aunt. We lived with her in a tiny room for 2 years before she kicked us out. So my mom found a house, she leased it and rented the rest, keeping 1 room for both of us. She needed the money and I understood. It was embarrassing too have friends over. I had to lie to them and tell them it was my room only. Then, my mom found out my father was still in Connecticut and wanted custody of me. Since they weren’t legally divorced, he was planning to kidnap me and we both knew damn well he was capable of it. My mom was sick of that.

Her fiancé called her and proposed that we move to Reno, NV. He’d help us find a nice home, give us some financial help while we got settled. She agreed and on March 16, 2010, we moved to Reno. We were never to go back to Connecticut. I left my friends, my memories…everything.

Now, my best friend, from Connecticut, tells me I’m a heartless bitch. That I only care about myself. That I’m a monster that ruins people. That I put her through hell and she wants revenge. Nobody’s perfect and I stand accused. But, she was obsessed with me. She claimed I gave her chronic depression, I made her cut, I made her want to kill herself. She LOVED me. She was bisexual. I wasn’t. I often apologized. Explained how there wasn’t anything I could do and I was sorry. I meant it too. But, the point is, I may be a heartless monster, but it’s not my intention! Only because I wont stand people who complain about their lives because they have relationship problems or their moms wont buy them some new item. I’ve gone through a lot more and I honestly don’t give a shit about those kinds of problems. It’s not my intentions… its just that all that I’ve been through has made me like this.

Society considers me a “punk”, an outcast. Nowadays, I’m surrounded by hypocrites. Born and raised by hypocrites. For example, my aunt kicked us out because of my appearance and my “punk” ways. Many people ask my mom how she can allow me to be like this at just 13. That a lot of times they’ve refused to talk to her because of me. She doesn’t give a shit what people think of her but she worries that this may affect me. Isn’t that funny? She worries about what people think of my appearance but she didn’t worry as much of what I was going through with that bastard. I don’t care now. I hope my father’s dead. All I want is to turn 18 so I can move out and start a life of my own. I’m closer to California now. Closer to my dreams.
Posted on April 29th, 2010 at 02:25am


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