You Deserved Better
Most of my siblings and I always had a rocky relationship with our parents. Rocky is an understatement. We were emotionally and physically mistreated up until the point where we could fight back.
When that happened, our parents eventually resorted to only emotional tactics, this time more severe just so they could make up for the lack. We were all raised as homeschooled Christian kids, so we were pretty sheltered.
The values that were taught in our household were: Jesus hates loose girls who do things like show their shoulders. Periods were a shameful thing, not to mention any form of intimacy. We learned how babies were made at 14, six years too late. TVs, cars, cats, beverages, etc. were not of God.
Phones of the lowest quality were required as soon as we turned 16 so they could call us to check where we were in the house. God forbid you’re Muslim, Orthodox Christian, or French (they really hated the French for some reason) and came anywhere near our house.
We weren’t allowed to go anywhere without them, and while I was “tame,” my younger sister grew rebellious as time went on. Once, she decided to sneak out and drink with the neighborhood kids, who we saw only once (the don’t-go-anywhere-without-us rule included the backyard) in our lives.
It was the week before her 18th birthday (we didn’t celebrate that anyway, just knew the date). She took her phone with her, and then pretty much got stranded out where they all were.
Since our parents promised to force her to sleep outside with the stray dogs if she went anywhere without them, she was too afraid to call anyone for help. Besides, our house was really far away. I can’t bear to think of the next events.
She got in the car of a very tipsy guy from the neighborhood, who proceeded to get the car flipped over in a ditch. It went up in flames. Four people, including her, perished. Only the driver survived but was scarred for life. My parents continued to mock her even after she passed.
They had the nerve to blame her, and they had the nerve to tell everyone in the family that she basically got what she deserved, which our much younger siblings believed instantly. It was their fault.
If only they were normal people, she’d be able to call them and tell them she was scared somewhere in an alleyway. I moved out of that place two months later, and spent the next seven blaming myself for my sister’s passing.
It still surprises me to this day how a parent can blame their child for DYING. Rest in peace, Martha, you deserved a better life. I’ll always love you.