I pretty much tried my best to avoid James.

However, from the moment I ignored him when he shoved me, to all the times I tried my best to avoid him, it just pissed him off more.

The morning of my first day of school I was up early, got dressed and double checked over the things in my back pack. Grabbed my sweater and opened my door to a hard SMACK to my face.

"Don't you dare talk to me at school! I don't want anybody knowing I have a flea infested dog living at home!"

And with that.. I headed out the door holding my face, holding back the tears.

School was, boring and long. I don't talk much as is, so making friends was never going to be easy.

But 3:30pm rolled around too fast and I headed for the car that was supposed to pick us up.

On my way there James ran into me, bumping me hard, causing me to lose my balance and I ended up on my hands and knees.

He bent down a little and whispered  "That's where a dog like you belongs."

I get up and brush myself off and continue walking, now with a slight limp. Keeping my head down along the way.

The moment the car pulled up to the house I opened the door as took off inside, halfway up the stairs, James caught my leg and I fell forward on the stairs hitting my head. 

I immediately start crying.

"Shut the fuck up! Nobody wants to hear your sissy cries!"

I held my head, ran up the stairs and locked myself in my room.

What did I do so wrong? Why is he treating me like this? Couldn't he have told his parents he didn't like me BEFORE they decided to adopt me?

How much worse can this get?

And... oh... I HAD to ask.

***

A few weeks of this abuse from James and it was pushing me to want to fight back. I've had it! I had to defend myself! I had to do something! Otherwise this was just going to keep happening! No way. I've been through enough.

I headed toward the kitchen and spot one of the maids fixing lunch. I lightly smile at her and make my way over to grab a plate. As I start grabbing food to serve myself, James stomps in the kitchen straight towards me.

Smacks the plate right out of my hand.

"Eat that shit off the floor like a dog should."

This is it! I've had it!

"Dude what the hell is your problem? What's wrong with you!?"

BIG MISTAKE!

James grabs me by the shirt and throws me against the wall. HARD!

I hit the cabinet on the way down.

James grabbed a kitchen knife and put it to my throat. So viciously it cut me drawing blood.

"TALK TO ME LIKE THAT AGAIN AND I'LL FUCKING CUT THE LIFE OUT OF YOU!"

The maid sat there in disbelief. James looked at the maid.

"Say a word of this and your life and career are OVER!"

***

After that day I cut my voice off from the world.

Living in fear, I never spoke.

Did what I was told. Obedient and quiet.

Eventually my adoptive parents assumed I was traumatized from my parents death that I became mute.

They put me in ASL classes, and art classes assuming it was a good outlet for the stress.

Deep down I wanted to tell them the things that James had done to me, but why would they believe an orphan over their precious son?

And so this is the way things continued until my 18th birthday.