My father would sleep, as well as walk around the house, in nothing but a pair of torn-up tidy whities.. He kissed me on the mouth (not my brothers) as he hugged or kissed me goodnight daily.
As I started getting to the age of thirteen/fourteen, something else he did numerous times a day was touch my bottom. And when I say touch, I mean slap (VERY hard), squeeze and grope. I asked him to stop nearly every time he touched me, but he would always say "it's YOUR fault for being so squishy".
My father wasn't an alcoholic, but he was a very abusive child beater and wife beater. He's broken my mom's ribs, wrist, and covered her in nearly black bruises time and time again. He's also beat my older brother with a literal wooden 2x4 for not going 2 feet across the hallway to the bathroom to urinate, instead using soda bottles because he was petrified to run into my father.
My father also weekly gave both brothers a military buzzed haircut, which ended with my older brother being physically assaulted by jocks at school.
My younger brother 90% came out unscathed in all of this. My mom had a void in her heart when it came to showing me any sort of motherly love. I can't remember one time when she hugged or even said she loved me.
My father continued to touch me, curse at me, scream at me, and point his finger in my face for "talking back". He had a regular thing of screaming at me to get in my room, walking in behind me and locking my door, then cornering me while my mom is screaming outside for him to stop.
When I was six years old was when my father's infidelity (as far as I know) started. He would take me along on his dates with his coworker whom I later found out he was sleeping with. He would leave me in his truck for hours outside of her house while the two of them.. yeah.
My mother found out when I was sixteen and then we moved from Texas to Colorado to "fix" things.
He became more violent and claimed anime and video games were what was causing me to self-harm. I was eighteen years old, he was still touching me, and to the point then that he would grope the sides of my breasts when he hugged me. I still begged for him to stop, yet it was still "my fault".
I moved back to Texas to live with my grandparents (father's side) when I was almost 19, and then my grandfather died of a massive heart attack. That trauma in itself is a whole story of it's own (not than anyone cares, haha).
And last but not least in this shortened version, what has to do with the email photos below:
A year ago, I was rushed to the ER due to my heart rate being dangerously elevated (I'm on a beta-blocker due to genetic heart issues). My grandmother, unfortunately, wasn't feeling well, so my father and his now-wife (a woman he met in Colorado and was sleeping with while still married) took me to the hospital.
While there, as I'm lying in my hospital bed, my father comes in and shuts the door behind him. He starts yelling at me for not "having my life in order/having a job and a car yet". I get up off of the bed, unhook myself, and start walking past him, he steps back, and I walk out the door. I walk around the corner to the hospital phone and start calling my grandmother, all while hysterically crying my eyes out. Right as my grandmother answers the phone, my father's wife physically runs at me, slams into me and slams down on the dial tone, all while yelling "NO YOU DON'T!"
I step back and start walking back to my room, still crying. My father is standing at the corner of the hallway, where my room is a few feet away from. I put my head down and try to walk past him and he physically jerks my up off of the ground by my upper right arm. At this point I'm frantically looking around for a nurse or some sort of staff and the second I see a nurse I scream "SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE!" My father lets go and scoffs at me. A male nurse then guides me back into my room when I fall into a very violent panic attack. The nurse says that they won't let him back into the building if I want, which I insist on.
A few hours go by, my heart rate stabilizes, and then my father walks back into my room. I'm literally shell shocked. He says that he's taking me home and that they won't say a word to me during the ride.
I get home, and soon realize my father cut off my cell phone service. He tells me that he's ashamed and sick to his stomach at the "trash" I had on my phone and that when I apologize and wake up that he'll "think" about reconnecting my service.
Come to find out~ He had taken my phone (which I left in his truck, in the bottom of the passenger's door pocket thing) and went through my photos, as well as everything else, and found a selfie I had taken of myself in a bra. Big deal. The bottom line for that, in particular, is that he took MY property/phone and went through it. He claims that because he pays for my phone service that he has a right to look at whatever whenever.
So that's what the photos are about. ^
The last incident I had with him was when I went with my grandmother over to his house for a visit (I only went due to my grandmother) and he claimed that he's never touched me and that he's apologized for everything he's done. I got up, said "you guys are crazy" under my breath, and walked out the door to go get in my grandmother's van. As we were leaving/as I was getting into the car, he says "at least I'm not the one with-" and I see him pointing at his arms. As I was shutting the car door, I muffled "*******". I then proceeded to have yet another dreaded panic attack.
I have very bad, deep scars all over my body, but especially on my arms.