A tainted beginning

I'm what you call a guilty child. I decided that this was the best label for me when I was eight years old. The reason I gave myself this label is because when I was six, my dad left my family. I know now she didn't mean it but back then my mother used to blame my sisters and me, for him leaving. It was apparent though that the real truth was he left because of her and no woman, no matter what, wants to accept the truth that they made their loved one miserable. Despite knowing this information now, when I was little I trusted my family whole heartedly because I had this unwavering belief that they would never lie to me to intentionally hurt me. I believed in her words and felt a great pain of guilt and regret. My feelings of sorrow and guilt only increased when I would wake up to her liquid sorrows upon her pillow of despair at two in the morning. I would tip toe as quietly as I could to her side and lightly sit on the bed so that I could comfort my loving mother. The woman I cared for with all my heart and would gladly die for. That night was something I held close to my heart and treated it as if it was our secret. To this day my sisters never knew of my mom's two am crying fits and only I would take the responsibility upon myself to make her feel better. I felt that as her daughter it was my duty. It was then I vowed that I would never cause this woman anymore pain than that she had to forever carry within her heart. My Mother was the exact definition of house wife. My father made the money while my Mom stayed home, barefoot and pregnant. So naturally when he left, so did the money. There my mom was left with a mountain of debt, five children, and no job. From there everything changed. No one was a child anymore including me. My 19 year old brother became the man of the house and gave every paycheck he earned to my mother so that we could be barely fed. My mother worked three jobs, one right after another so much that when I was seven, my sister of 11 years old raised me as if I was her own. My older sister and brother eventually left us. They needed a chance to fix their own ruin lives and they couldn't due that if they had 3 little sisters to worry about and a mother. I began to question my childhood in the environment I was in. Everyone's life seemed relatively normal while mine was hell. I could no longer connect with girls my age since all they had to worry about was which doll to play with while my worries were how much will I be able to eat today? More regret and guilt was placed upon my shoulders when we were so desperate for food and shelter my mom cried as she threw away her pride and begged a pantry for food just for us, she didn't care if she ate as long as we did. And that very night we slept at a station eating a bagel. What also became apparent to me was the flood of emotions of how alone I truly was when my Dad decided to call me. I will never forget that day because when I was 8 I asked, "Daddy, when will you come back for mama and me?" To which he replied, "Never, so you're just going to have to grow up and deal with it. I'm never coming back for you." Needless to say my tiny strained heart...shattered. I felt dead, lifeless. At the age of nine, I was told that I was no longer the youngest child and that I was a big sister. Now I know why Dad didn't need to come back. He had his replacement child. As the years went on my emotions stayed hidden. After that phone call all I could think was "My feelings upset Daddy...I won't do that anymore." And so I didn't. I became emotionally repressed and slowly deterioated as time when on. Life for me didn't get any better though. When I was 12 my mom had already gotten a boyfriend whom I wasn't too fond of. I found him incompetent, idiotic and useless. But for some reason he filled the hole my Dad created in my Mom. One morning when I was arguing with my mother he didn't like that and decided to get into it. I told him that my problem was with my Mom, not him and that I would like to deal with it with her. He didn't like that either so he decided to choke me...My mom was in the kitchen, she had her head bent to look for something to cook with but popped her head up when she heard no voices and she saw me clawing at his hands struggling for air. She screamed his name and he dropped me. I couldn't think I could only move. So thats what I did. This fight was in the morning time so I was still in what I call my pjs which was just a tank top and some shorts. I grabbed any pair of shoes i could find and bolted out of the door running anywhere, in hopes to get away...to get to safety. I once asked her to leave him but she wouldn't and none of my sisters wanted him to leave because then when my mom worked they wouldn't have anyone to drive them anywhere. My brother told me that I should have known better and that I brought it on myself...I never asked for anything again. Despite the feelings of anger the one emotion that I felt stronger than anything was guilt. I had no right to ask my mom to give up happiness when she had endured so much pain. And because I believe this I never asked her again and decided that I alone would bear the pain and fear. Much of my life is built on this broken foundation but I ask for nothing more for I feel I have no right. I am 17 years old and I still live with my mom and her boyfriend in a broken home. The food is scarce and the home is literally broken. There are holes in the wall, the shower is broken as well as the toilet. For awhile I slept in the corner of the living room. To this very day I cry every night silently feeling the burden of my upbringing and pondering why I must go through with this alone? I never bother to bother anyone with this until now. I know it is my burden to bear, a heavy one at that...but all I long for is freedom. Will I ever get the chance at a new beginning?