Stories

Middle child

The name I will give is Muse, simply because I dislike giving others my real name and for safety reasons as well I shall leave it out. I am seventeen turning eighteen in December; I was diagnosed with AS just a half year ago. Growing up as the middle child is never fun, my older brother moved away when I was seven making me the oldest of the house but still he left behind records. Let's go a little bit before that though, I think it might make more sense. My mom left my father when I was five, we moved from Alaska down to Florida where she found a boy friend and got together with him. He was kind if not a little strange, but he took care of use and showed use what was different in Florida such as Snakes and Alligators. When I was seven my mother left him for a reason unknown; and for awhile it was just her and my brothers and I. A few months past and she started dating some guy who soon moved in with use, he made houses and used to be in the army. He was strict, and did not like it when I or my brothers did not do as he asked. My older brother hated him, and soon moved to his father leaving me and my younger brother with mom. He tended to yell a lot, and he would spank me when I did something he did not like. My younger brother was the perfect son, he got good grades always, he was in the advance programs and he had a lot of friends. To my parents he was perfect but to me he was pain. My brother would break something and blame it on me saying, I saw Muse doing it. I would come home not even knowing what happened, get pulled in the door turned over the mans knee and spanked without a word. When it was report card time my brother was always allowed to stay up and get to do something like get a new video game, while I was yelled at and punished for my poor grade's which most of the time was an A in reading, a B in science, and a D in everything else. I was usually sent to my room, forced to listen as my brother laughed along with my mum and our step dad over something. When I had a spelling test it was worse, I was made to write twenty words hundreds of times, and if I could not spell it out when asked I was made to do it the next day as well. I can not write, doing so makes my hand cramp up in extreme pain. I never did pass my spelling tests, even now I can not spell quiet a few words. No one took notice of the fact I had no friends, nor the fact that I came home crying with bruises and cuts from getting picked on. My best friend in the whole world was my Tabby cat who I had saved when he was a kitten. Years later I was fifteen and my mother was scared of our step dad who had become violent in his ways especially toward me. The few things I knew I was tolled they were wrong because kids in my grade level should not know such things. I was so proud of myself for knowing why we can not use the blood of people who passed away to save people who are alive. I proudly tolled my mother it was because when you died the heart stopped pumping, and you stopped breath, the heart pumps the blood through the veins in your lungs where it collects air and gives it to the rest of your body. When the blood did not get air it died. I was yelled at for days; threaten that if I did not say I was wrong I would be punished. We moved away soon after, we moved to a place in Europe nice and safe without him ever knowing, but sadly we had to leave my only friend, who purred when I petted him and when my step father yelled at me, would come running and jumped into my lap where he would hiss angrily at the man making me cry. My cat saved me; he made me want to keep going to make sure I could take care of him. When we left him I died, and still a little part of me is dead. My mother had married a man two years ago, and I must say I love him with my whole heart. For the first time I am happy to go home, and tell people what I know. Sadly I can not learn the new language needed, I am unable to read it or write it, and even to speak it makes me feel like I wish crash. I can understand most of what's said to me, but to reply to them is impossible. It was here that my mother learned what's wrong with me, and I know she hates it. She does not like that I have it, nor does she understand when I can not do something like wash dishes. I try to say that I do not like to touch dirty dishes and the sound of the plates and silver all clanging together makes me want to cry and hide. She does not understand but I know she tries. My new step dad tries his best as well, he tells a lot of jokes and tried to explain why they are funny, and he has yet to give up. I no longer go to school, I know it's a bad thing but I simply can not make myself go through that. I take a pill to help me think, and it helps a little. I know things will be hard for me, but I could live in no better place with AS. They are building a whole town just for people who have AS and need help where there are people who work there and help remind us to take showers, or eat dinner. Simple things like this are hard for me, my mother has to tell me to eat because I will forget, but I have already been tolled of this place, so when I move out I have a place waiting for me already. I have a job, I work at a warehouse and the people thee are kind and funny, always making me laugh when I get angry or sad at being unable to do something I was asked. My life is pretty good, and I am happy I know what I have now so that I can learn what to do to make it better.