Originally posted by: hopeless74
hi, my dad died when he was 56.
he used to come home, and down a 1litre bottle of whiskey in less than hour
he then used to scream at us. he made my sister and i stand to attention for hours, like soldiers. we had to stand there, not moving or make eye contact with anything, just stare at the wall. when we did move he used to beat the shit outta of us. he hit me so hard one night thick gooey blood was oozing out of my ear and all i did was cry and go to bed. i was only 6!
then my mum would try and protect us and all his madness was unleashed on her.
there was nothing worse than hear my mother tell us to go upstairs, when my dad was throwing her round the living room, pulling her hair out
because my mum hated my dad, they didnt sleep together. he used to come into my room and have his wicked way with me.
this went on everyday for at least 5 years
dark days..
Thank you so much for sharing your story.
My mom divorced my abusive biological father and remarried a raging alcoholic. Rest his soul, he was killed on the job back in 2003. He was a pipeline welder and was welding a natural gas line when a piece of heavy equipment at ground level hit a pipe and triggered the flow of gas. A massive explosion left him severely burned all over his body and he died in the hospital about 24 hours later.
Even on his deathbed, I was screaming at him in anger. I had been planning on having a talk with him because my Mom had lunch with me the DAY BEFORE and had said that she had finally had enough of his drinking and abuse. No one here wants to know the ways I thought about getting him out of our lives. His work accident happened the next day. Truly one of the weird/scary coincidences to ever happen in my life.
When I was a kid, probably 12-13 years old... he would come home absolutely plastered. I was his favourite target to pick on, maybe because I was the oldest boy and reminded him of my father. This man was such an angel when he was sober - he would do anything for anyone. When he was drunk, he was a monster. I spent many nights curled up in a corner while he screamed at the top of his lungs. I'll never forget the awful smell of his breath and how his eyes would look right through me. He would have "buzz words" for every drunk, like "individuals" and other stupid words. A lot of them are ingrained in my memory. Unfortunately even the most timid little puppy will snap if pushed far enough, and when that happens you lose a lot of innocence. You're never quite the same. All through my teenage years it seemed to be... how far will he push me this time? What do I have to do to get him out of my face?
One time he came into my room, picked up my 27" TV that he bought me (hooked up to my C=64

) and smashed it to smithereens on the kitchen floor. Then he walked through the shattered glass in his bare feet, and stabbed himself in the chest with a steak knife. I'll never forget the sound of the knife as he twisted it around in his chest. F'd up.
After my sister's wedding, my Dad was nice enough to invite my Mom and stepdad over after the reception. Big mistake. Drunk stepdad proceeded to be drunk and loud, and before I knew it he was accusing my Dad of letting our German Shepherd in the house to attack him. That dog was my best friend. I was about 21 or 22 at the time. I had a bunch to drink that night too, and I found myself face to face with him in the living room, asking him to sit down and STFU so we could enjoy the night. My dog was standing next to him and he grabbed it's upper and lower jaws and began to twist. My dog let out a yelp and I hit him with the nicest right hook ever, right in the cheek. *snap!* I hit him in the back of the head a few times on his way down and then began kicking him when he was down. My Dad said "that's enough" and I was so upset I just began to bawl. My mom was saying sorry to me, and blah blah blah - dysfunctional family chapter 2374789. What's incredible is that even after getting punched out, he was still an idiot and I can only imagine how the ride home went with him & my mom.
So I'll say it again and I apologize for the TMI story... but whatever helps alcoholics get off the sauce is fine by me. I don't care if they make them believe in Santa Claus. If they turn their life around it's worth it.