Siblings and Cruelty: A memoir

My name is Molly, and I was abused by my siblings when I was growing up. I don’t know if you have any siblings, but I can tell you that being the youngest child is very, very difficult.

I have an older sister, Emily. I used to steal her jewelry and makeup, and I also read her diary. But other than that, I was pretty much the most perfect sister ever.

Emily and I in our Halloween costumes.

I also have a brother, named Eric. I’m pretty sure that I was always perfectly nice to him, but he would beat me up on a regular basis.

He may look nice here, but he used to chase me around with shrimp.

I want to share a story with you about how my fear of basements developed. It’s not a pretty story.

I was a young, innocent child, 5 years of age, living in Atlanta. I was obsessed with Pocahontas and enjoyed singing Barney songs. Oh, and I had great fashion taste.

Me, probably pretending to be on Barney

My siblings decided it would be a good idea to terrify me, so that I would never go in the basement again. They told me that there was a WITCH in the basement. Well, I was a brave, courageous child, so I said, “HA!” and went into the basement. Unfortunately, my evil brother was waiting down there, wearing this mask. He was hiding behind some boxes and JUMPED at me, cackling.

It still makes me want to pee my pants.

I screamed and ran away. Obviously. Since then, I have been scared of basements. Luckily, I had my revenge. If I ever needed anything in the basement, my mom made either Emily or Eric go down there with me. But still…

I was doing my laundry in my sister’s basement, today, and I made the dogs come downstairs with me, just in case.

Thanks, siblings.

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