Part of my story - trying to put together a book

It all started when I was 4. My mother met the monster, he had just gotten out of the penitentiary in MN. He drank a lot. Until then it was just Her, my two older brothers (who had the same father), me (only child from my father), and my littlest brother (from a different father also). At first when Kim (my stepfather, maybe I shouldn't use real names, I don't know) would get drunk and all us kids (except the youngest) would get beat. I remember numerous times when he would take us all to parties, drink to the point that he'd start arguments with people at the party, and told to leave. He would never let my mother drive, he was very controlling like that. And he would drive on the interstate through the Twin Cities drunk. He would have to pull over to puke, and would constantly push the car to see how fast it would go (sometimes up to 100 mph). We moved after living in Columbia Heights for a year, to Brooklyn Park. Many times, he'd line us up and beat us with the belt until we had welts. Sometimes my mother wasn't there, she worked days, his work at that time was going to the blood bank for money. We would be beat for things like not getting the dishes done fast enough or just plain being there. We lived in a duplex and the owners lived downstairs, the heard the fights (Kim and my mother) and heard us getting beat, and did nothing. I remember around this time, on a Saturday, we had to clean house and do laundry. We were woke up at 5 am to start, we didn't have any breakfast, one of my older brothers asked and was told we will eat when he feels like feeding us. Now that he asked, he said, you will have to wait longer. My brother got smacked and told to scrub the kitchen floor (with a toothbrush). I went into the kitchen to get some cleaner, it was the summer before 1st or 2nd grade, I can't remember my exact age I think 6 or 7. It was around 9 am, I saw some banana bread on the counter and took some. Kim caught me, beat me until I couldn't sit down (with his leather belt). Sent me to my bedroom, and locked the door, I remember the sun was going down, I hadn't used the bathroom all day, I had to go very, very bad. I knocked on the door, and asked loudly if I coud use the bathroom, I didn't wanna pee my pants. I was told by Kim "NO, You can come out when I F#$%^@# tell you you can, and you BETTER NOT WET YOURSELF, or you'll get another beating, you hear me GIRL?" So, I tried with all my might to hold it. My bedroom had a door that lead to the outside and down steep wooden steps, I tried the door, but it was locked. I crossed my legs hard at the door and cried so hard, I wet, not only did I have to pee I had to do a #2 also. The only other thing I could think of, as it was nightfall now, and my door still wasn't unlocked, was relieve myself in a canister I had in my room. I kept some beads etc., in it.
Another time, my brothers and I were playing war. We went in a part of the yard in back, that Kim couldn't see us from, it was right after breakfast. Puffed rice and powdered milk, not very tasty. He hollered for us to come in (he had been drinking again, of course) lined me n my brothers up, and beat us again till we had welts. We were told to stand in the corner (or by the wall). We had to stand with our noses barely touching the wall, no shifting weight of feet, no bending knees, no moving at all, or we would get smacked on the back with the belt. We stood there like that untill bed time, I got in bed that night and quietly cried myself to sleep, my bottom and feet and legs hurt so bad, and so did my stomach from hunger pains. That whole day my mother just sat in her rocking chair, staring out the window. Things like that went on every day or so. That same summer my brothers and I were in bed (I found out later that they had been awake and heard it also) my step father, after drinking all day, told my mother they need to find a way to get rid of us older kids and it would just be them two and my little brother. Two nights later, (there was an old bridge that was closed off, a new one had been built and they were gonna start demolishing the old, in Minneapolis, kinda by Lake of the Isles area) He moved the barricades, drove onto it and stopped in the middle. My mother asked him what he was doing, he said "Those 3 brats can just get the F out (my nose started bleeding), he said to me "Fing little B#@%^ now look at what you did, your F#$%^&* bleeding all over my car, damn you" My mother and him started yelling at each other, and I guess he started driving again, as we got across, the bridge fell, I remember wishing I would have been left on it.
From there we lived in a tent for the summer (we lived in Brooklyn Park for 2 years, my mother and Kim married there). During those years MANY times when he was drunk, he would tell me my father was a no good lieing Italian, I was a worthless piece of sh#$ just like him and I would account for nothing. My Name was always Girl or #3 (#3 because I was the 3rd oldest). The only one of us kids with a name, was my youngest brother, who was just a baby when Kim first met my mother. Well the summer before I went into third grade, most of it we lived in a tent, until the end drew near. We went to live with Kim's sister Janelle, her husband and two boys in Waverly, MN. We stayed with her for a month or two, then moved a few blocks away into a house. That is when the sexual abuse started. It was always late at night, and I always had my own room (because I was the only girl). I didn't understand what was going on, it felt wrong, I didn't know. I never said a word to anyone, I was told not to, and if I did, nobody would believe me anyway and I would never see my mother or brothers again. We lived in Waverly for almost a year, then we moved to Buffalo, MN. The sexual abuse never stopped and started getting more often and worse. I started fourth grade, in class that year, we watched movies on "good touch, bad touch". I realized what was happening, and it wasn't normal, and not all girls go through what I go through. I still was too afraid to say a word, the only person I told was a friend of mine from class. During a bathroom break, I told her that happens to me.
The next summer my mother worked a lot of overtime for Wagner spray tech, weekends and late days. So we were stuck home with Kim who drank, and didn't work. I wanna say it was during March, maybe a little later, we were going to go to our step-cousin's Confirmation Party in Annandale MN. First I had to do laundry (we had an old ringer washer.) Once again my step father was drinking, he'd normally finish off 2 gallons of Windsor in a weekend. Too this day the smell of it, even mixed, makes he gag. After changing loads, in our tiny little basement, (he had sent my brothers outside and told them to stay there) he sat on the steps in my way so I couldn't move. And he started molesting me. I was scared, sick, disgusted. He started to get more "brave" I remember thinking, it's the middle of the day, I'm supposed to be safe in the middle of the day. We went to the confirmation party. While there, me and my 2 older brothers were outside, he came out, told us he was going on a walk with Melinda, to stay there!! On the way home, he made my little brother sit in the back seat with my two older brothers, (on the way to the party, my little brother stood up in the front seat) and the whole way home, he molested me. During 5th grade, he had charges brought against him, for attacking my step-cousin the day of her party (she is a deaf mute). He went to jail until trial, couldn't afford bond. I told my teacher at school because when my mother asked us about it, she sat me and my brothers down, and said if it happened to us tell her now. But, before she did that, I heard her talking with Janelle (Kim's sister and others in family) about those lying dogs and how they are just jerks. And they aren't family again. Melinda is Janelle's biological daughter, when Janelle was younger she gave custody to her sister, so Melinda's mom adopted her. Made me wonder what they all would say to me if I told the truth. So I told my 5th Grade reading teacher, Ms. Koehnen. I met with 2 investigators, a male and a female, I can't remember who the female was, the male was Rick Lamers, from Buffalo Investigation. I told them all I could remember as best I could. I had to go by times of years and what grade, because I have always had a hard time trying to remember exact months dates, and how old I exactly was. I got home and overheard my mother telling investigators, (outside her closed bedroom door, which was downstairs off the dining room where I did homework) "She is just out for attention, and she never has like Kim ever, her and her brothers don't".

more to come, maybe, have to take a break - PTSD is getting bad...