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.
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.
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.
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.
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.