Dear Evil Stepmother,
Stepmother, not such a pleasant word, is it? Makes one think of Cinderella. In my case, true that fairy tale was for me—how Cinderella’s stepmother was downright evil. It is so easy for you to fit that stereotype. Now I am speaking to you; the one made my life miserable. I imagined my father would get married one day. I also imagined someone who would love my father and welcome me. I did not ask you to be in my life. I never wanted that, and I still don’t.
I remember those days when I still lived with you and I wish I could forget. I can't explain why you despised me so much. Is it because I look like my mother? Because I'm not your child? Or was it the jealously, because you're not the only special person in my dad's life?
Although you never put your hands on me, you attempted to physically assault me while already abusing me both mentally and emotionally. The verbal and mental abuse hurt just as much. You destroyed what mattered most to me: the pictures of my young mother and me, the only memory I had of her when we were still a family. Every single day, I would get a negative aura from you. I could never read you, one day you were fine, like heaven, and the next hell would break loose. We didn’t talk much. When in the same room, I strived to make little to no eye contact. When you got angry, you'd grind your teeth and scream at the top of your lungs.
You seemed like such a nice person and looked so kind. You were one to put on a friendly face— much of a hypocrite. You are deceitful, and most exceptional at buying people’s love. If only they could see behind the curtains and closed doors. You were evil.
But I should understand why, right? You were going through life and married a man with a daughter. You're young; young enough to be my sister but you are not. You are bad mother. One that lacks nurturing abilities. You’ve never once told me you loved me. How can a person love someone and put them through so much misery? It was because, you didn’t love me, and you never did. It broke my heart to hear from other neighbors of the untruthful reason I had to leave my house. You and my father told them I had abused my siblings. My aunts quickly steeped up in my defense. I felt nauseated hearing those words. Telling people this to hide the truth, for your wrong doing. I got a restraining order on you, and this was the reason I had to leave. You did not want to live up to your consequences.
You’d hit me with your words, which felt like glass digging through my skin.
You are a sad person. You don’t understand the influence you can have on people's feelings. You got me kicked out of my own house, the one I have lived in for 14 years. That house and the neighbors that surrounded it, they’ve watched me grow up and some helped raise me. At times I sense a regret in my dad's voice, about marrying you. It was a mistake, but it can't be undone. I don’t know how my dad, my best friend, could choose someone like you. My father chose to ignore a lot of your violence and blamed it on postpartum depression.
This is my story and there are more just like mine. “1 in 14 children have experienced emotional abuse by a parent or guardian (Facts and Statistics).” This violence must stop. I'm here to fight for those who are experiencing the same abuse as I did. To speak for those who cannot. I was once them. Mouth numb, unable to utter a word. If I opened my mouth; I would soon lose my speaking rights, and consequences would be severed. I will be fighting for those who cannot. Being the voice for the voiceless. Like how my friends fought for me when I was blinded to my own situation. We hear too many of those awful stories on the news; evil stepmothers are real. I do not think I am wrong about you.
I will not claim you as my mother. Why would I? You are not much of a mother and had no interest in being a mother much less a good one. You had my baby sister, that was to only good thing you ever gave me. Every piece of respect I had for you has demolished. Next time you say you did so much for me, please, spare me the time and don’t. What will people think when they realize it's you, I'm speaking of? You are not the fairest of them all.
Joyfully free,
the little girl who's not so little anymore.
Works Cited:
NSPCC. “Facts and Statistics.” NSPCC, www.nspcc.org.uk/preventing-abuse/child-abuse-and-neglect/emotional-abus....
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