I hate my new life. My parents separated when I was nine. And I’m now fourteen. So this was around five years ago. I had my dog best friend Duke since I was eight. He was always there for me, comforting me when I have bad days, when I’m sad and even when I feel stressed. I’ve never remembered a time where duke wasn’t by my side during that time. But that changed when mom and dad were going through court so they can decide on who has custody over me and my two younger brothers and to get divorced. (Their legally separated) My mom wanted to start fresh with her then boyfriend now fiancé. And my dad also wanted to start fresh with his now girlfriend. They wanted to start in different states with there new partners. But this left me to stay with my grandparents. I enjoyed living with them so I could continue going to school at the town I grew up in. But unfortunately no matter how much I have helped them from cooking to cleaning they didn’t like me or my brothers in their house. But I still loved them. But after I finished seventh grade was when the court would finally decide on where I and my brothers would go to. But the problem is I have so many problems on both my dads and moms side. My dad always had a drinking problem and this causes him to be mean and angry. And my dads girlfriend has a son. Her son is an absolute a******. He screams and cries for whatever he wants even though his older then 6 years. He punches, hits, kicks etc. I beg my dad to discipline but he refuses because of me and my brothers cause him to act like this. When I was ten my dad got angry at me for liking my moms boyfriend. He said some nasty things about him and I then told him to back off and leave them alone because I thought he was cool then. He got so mad because of what I said and threw me against the refrigerator and punched me in the face. Giving me a big bruise on my back and a black eye. His girlfriend isn’t perfect either. She always sided with him and never heard me out. When I tell her that dad was giving me bruises she refuses to believe me. And same thing happens when I tell her that her son does the same thing. For years they bruised and scratched me up. I tell my mom and she believes me because my own father abused her without my knowledge and their was evidence.
