My parents beat me, gaslight me, and make me kiss their legs to make them stay — and somehow I’m always the problem...

I’m honestly just… tired. This all happened across yesterday and today and I still feel like I’m stuck in a nightmare.

I’ve been home for a while now because of multiple bony contusions in my right ankle which was mis diagnosed as ligament damage, and my mom got a message from our school app saying homework had been posted. She asked me to do it, and I said okay — just asked for the student code so I could check it on my laptop. She refused and insisted she’d read the homework to me.

She marked the pages and told me to write everything in my notebook. I asked her to bring my regular pens and highlighters — the stuff I usually use to make neat notes. I like color-coding things, making headers, bullet points, and all that. It helps me remember stuff.

Instead, she handed me a random pen and refused to get the rest. I still tried to make my notes look clean. That set her off. She looked at my notebook and started yelling things like:

“Is this an art book?”
“Are you mentally retarded?”
“Do you have the brain of a 5-year-old?”

Then my dad joined in and said, “Send him to kindergarten.” I tried to calmly explain that I wasn’t trying to show attitude — that this is how I study. I even told them to Google how people make notes nowadays.

That made things worse.

They blew up, started accusing me of copying "stupid internet people," and said crap like, “Oh, so if someone on YouTube kills someone, you’ll copy that too?” Then came the usual rant about how YouTube is ruining me and I’m wasting my life.

Eventually, my mom started hitting me. She picked up a cane and beat me — I tried to block it with my right hand, the one I’ve broken twice before. She hit it directly. Then she hit my injured leg too. I was yelling in pain. I kept screaming “It hurts!” over and over, and they didn’t care. They kept yelling. My dad said I was faking it. I could barely breathe through the pain.

My wrist swelled up, my ankle was throbbing. My mom ripped off my leg brace and shoved an ice pack onto raw skin while I screamed. I took a painkiller, sobbed for hours, and passed out.

That should’ve been the end of it. But no.

Today, my dad came up to me and said, “We need to talk.” I was still sore. He sat me down and said, “Why are you so disrespectful to your mother?” I said I wasn’t, that I was just expressing myself. He got up, grabbed the same cane, and hit my left shoulder hard. (It’s bruised and still sore as I write this.)

He told me to explain myself again, so I brought up a past situation — the subject selection drama — to show why I’ve been distant. Instead of hearing me out, they twisted everything I said. They took what they did and blamed it on me. They denied things that happened, claimed they said things they never said, and by the end of it I was actually doubting whether I was the one in the wrong.

I’m not even exaggerating — they gaslit me so hard that I started questioning if my memory was broken.

Then came the insults:

“You’re a narcissist.”
“You’re psychotic.”
“Mentally unstable.”
“You’ve been a burden your whole life.”

They said my mom had to “beg” my current school to take me — which is a lie. I was the one who convinced the teacher to give me a chance after a average entrance exam score. She accepted me on the condition that I improve by Term 1. My mom just sat there. But they rewrote the story like it was their heroic sacrifice.

Every time I tried to speak, they’d twist it back on me. They said I had listening problems, that I was ungrateful, selfish, evil. Every time I brought up something valid, they made me feel like I was insane.

Then my dad said, “If you’re planning to leave at 18, why not leave now?” and turned to my mom and said, “Let’s go. Pack your bags. We’re leaving.” I knew it was an emotional manipulation trick, but I still panicked. I didn’t know how far they’d go.

So I begged them to stay. Not because I wanted them to — but because I knew the chaos it would cause if I didn’t. Legal problems. Family drama. More punishment. I had to literally fall at their feet and kiss it and promise to be “a good kid” so they’d stop.

I’m done. I don’t care anymore. I’m going to nod, smile, agree, do what they say.
Until I turn 18.
And then I’m gone.

I can’t fight anymore. I don’t have the strength. My body is covered in pain. My brain feels like mush. No matter what I say or don’t say, I’m the problem. I’m either “too quiet” or “too rude.” I’m either “ungrateful” or “mentally unstable.”

They keep hurting me and then say I’m the evil one.

I just needed to let this out. I’m not looking for pity — I just wanted someone to hear me.

Thanks for reading.